The tailor’s shop was eerily quiet. Only the scuffling of some foraging rodent broke the silence with an occasional scuffle with a dried leaf. The hair on Lydia’s arms stood up. The tang of dried blood hung in the air like a rotting carcass as she clung to Shenyo’s tail. She was beyond weary and frustrated that they could not easily decimate their enemies for it seemed as if here, where ever here was, there were many.<br/><br/>She righted a toppled chair but something about Shenyo’s posture suggested that this was not a right thing to do. Perhaps, they should keep their footprint small in here as well as out in the open. Picking her way pasted smashed cases of thimbles and spools of thread, she soon saw there were no garments left finished. Disappointment clung to her as she tossed one brocade gown the color of new grass down in disgust because it had been rent from bodice to hem and was stained with brown blood around the neck.<br/><br/>Stepping into the smallish kitchen with its tiny fireplace and one battered wooden table, she sank down at the bench and put her face in her hands. Taking a deep breath, she pushed on the table to stand but noticed two things at once. In the corner was a servant’s dress hanging on a peg and the table moved easily to reveal an indention in the floor with a brass ring attached. Lydia was not too proud to wear a peasant's brown serge garment and different clothing was a high priority. Maybe Shenyo would want to inspect that little mystery of a trap door.<br/><br/>Taking the loose fit dress off the hook, she quickly began stripping off the soiled and travel filthy one she wore. The air was cool on her skin and she wished for some washing water, but knew that a humble house would not have water too readily available. Scouting around, she did find the small tea kettle did hold some water so she poured some out into her cupped hand and began by rubbing it into her face. The rough homespun fabric was scratchy against her white skin but when she was finished, she felt better.<br/><br/>"Do you think the trap door is truly an escape route or perhaps just a root cellar or a place to store wine?" she asked Shenyo as she was winding her thick black hair into a knot.<br/><br/><br/>