At the knock on the door, Dolph stared at Isolde for a minute too long. Their breath seemed to hang in their throats.<br/><br/>"Go," Isolde hissed at the blond man.<br/><br/>He melted into the shadows into the back of the house.<br/><br/>Smoothing her hair, Isolde answered the door.<br/><br/>"Hello, Mr. Ray, what brings you to my house this cold and snowy night? Won't you come in?" Isolde is the village herbalist and knows most of the residents. Often the villagers come in the  middle of the night for remedies so she wasn't to off kilter at this late visit. She gestured toward the dining table.<br/><br/>"I will need to be brief. I have an injured person who needs my immediate attention."<br/><br/>Something about him made her turn sharply to really see him.<br/>Mr. Ray was quiet and well respected in Taverton but beyond that Isolde knew little about him. Evidently he was usually healthy since he had never visited her shop before. His normally pale face was almost waxy tonight from either illness or grief. She couldn't tell, but something about him reminded her of Malachai. Isolde struggled to refrain from gaping at him.<br/><br/>"Really, Mr. Ray, I don't mean to be rude but my patient takes precedences over hospitality, I'm afraid. Please sit down." Isolde busied herself by tossing the quilt over the bed and pulling a chair closer to the fire. So much for open concept living, she though wryly.<br/><br/>To her surprise, Dolph stepped out of the shadows, hands in his pockets.<br/>"Hello." he said simply, coming to sit in the other chair. He didn't offer to shake hands or to be cordial, just sat down. "I will take it from here. She needs you." He told Isolde. She looked from him to Mr. Ray, sensing a tension but went back to work on the girl.