The gruff old man tending the fires, his face lean and pitted from more long winters than most have seen, caught sight of Signy out of the corner of his good eye as she stepped inside.  She wasn't quite creeping in, but nether was she walking in naturally, as a customer would, and the man seemed fully prepared to chase her away as a good-for-nothing scrounger -- until he realized who she was.<br/><br/>His scowl deepened, and he turned away, though he somehow gave a strong impression of keeping a close watch on her just the same.  Signy was used to this, and merely continued on her way, not having hesitated even an instant.  She still did seem uncertain, though, moving slowly, only her gaze darting quickly around the room, leaping from face to face.  Some were familiar, and those she discounted for the moment.  Others were not, though thanks to the runes, she still recognized them.<br/><br/>One of the women serving out the mead was known to Signy, who had done a reading for her not long ago which the woman had apparently liked; for she splashed a ladleful of mead into a small wooden cup and brought it over to the girl, surreptitiously.  Signy smiled slightly and murmured an awkward but genuine thanks, unused to these politenesses.<br/><br/>She didn't drink yet, continuing to drift gradually closer to the nearest strangers, seeming faintly uneasy, but quietly determined, as was often her way.