Little John glanced over his shoulder as Malcolm approached, and Elody too, tilted her head down, as if listening for something which didn't come. Both seemed to relax a bit more after that, and the stress upon her brow seemed to ease as Malcolm put a foot upon the porch step. A wry smile played at the corners of her mouth as she shot a glance towards Little John, who gave a low whistle in reply to Malcolm's compliment.<br/><br/>"Alright...alright, a charming way to claim a spot near the hearth. Come on in."<br/><br/>She had to admit, beneath the scruff and dust of travel, he was a good looking man. And it was nice to receive a compliment that wasn't a veiled threat to her virtue. Lord knows she heard all manner of vulgarity from Tompkins' men lately, damn their souls. Stepping inside, she held the door for Malcolm and Little John before closing it and motioning to a small sitting room. It was decently and cozily furnished; two rocking chairs were drawn in front of a hearth, with a small sofa near the front window. A desk was in the corner, with lit lamps placed about. She stood quietly, listening as Malcolm spoke of the war. James had been a part of it, as well as Little John. All Union, thank God.<br/><br/>As she was about to ask how he liked his coffee she glanced down and noticed the man miles away in thought, no doubt reliving the horrible battles in a reel of flashes across his mind's eye. Little John had seemed to grow more reverent as well, and she let the quiet moment be for both of them. There were few around who hadn't been scarred, in some way, by that dreadful four year nightmare...though the right side finally prevailed. Worth the sacrifice to those who lived to see the end and beyond.<br/><br/>His question jarred her back to the present, though she had a fair bit of practice answering it now. The ache was still there, though dulled.<br/><br/>"Buried at the base of the oak tree behind the house," she stated matter-of factly, swallowing a bit.<br/><br/>"He was..." the voice caught in her throat as Little John pointed down the hall at the kitchen. The soft cadence of a four-legged gait could be heard before a large dog, half wolf by appearance, came padding into the sitting room. The animal appeared calm, moving over to the stranger crouched in front of the fire with no hesitation. He stuck a soft, wet snout against Malcolm's shirt sleeve, sniffing down to his hand. Seemingly satisfied, he turned twice and lied down in the warmth and glow of the flames.<br/><br/>"So..." Elody cleared her throat, looking at Little John before down at Malcolm once more<br/><br/>"Forgive me, this is Crixus. If you don't like dogs I can take him out back, though you're the first visitor he hasn't greeted with bared teeth and a rather vicious bark. I guess this means we can trust our new acquaintance, Little John..." the wry smile was back as Little John shook his head somewhat incredulously.<br/><br/>"Well, Miss Elody, it is a nice change a' pace, to be sure."<br/><br/>Her smile warmed a bit as she moved towards the kitchen.<br/><br/>"I'll get that coffee straight away."<br/><br/>As she set about procurring some hot coffee, her gaze was drawn, as it usually was, out the window that looked over the fields behind the house. The spot underneath the oak tree, where two gravestones stood, and where Crixus spent most of his time, was now vacant. She could count on one hand how many times Crixus had come indoors. The fact that he hadn't come barreling around the house in a state of snarling terror spoke volumes to both her and Little John, but this...coming INSIDE? Only for bad weather would Crixus venture inside, and he would only go as far as the stove, curling up at its base. From time to time he would come to find her and Little John, make sure things were alright, then head dutifully back to his spot beside James. Well, in any case...it was a pleasant change. It sure made her a bit more at ease with a stranger in the house.<br/><br/>She soon returned with a small tray, smiling as she gave Little John his cup.<br/><br/>"How do you take your coffee, Mr. Blackwood?" Glancing up, she noted the first bits of snowflakes, swirling about on the breeze.<br/><br/>Handing him a cup, she motioned at the window.<br/><br/>"Snow's coming...we would..." for the second time, her voice died away as the faint sound of horse hooves could be heard in the distance. Little John set his cup down and straightened his hat before moving out onto the porch, his rifle resting in the crook of his arm. Crixus let out a low growl and quickly followed.<br/><br/>The color seemed to drain from her cheeks as she tightened her jaw, steeling herself. With a thin smile, she looked back at Malcolm, her hand slipping into her apron pocket.<br/><br/>"More company, do excuse me."<br/><br/>Turning, she moved resolutely out onto the porch, joining Little John as five men rode up to the house.