"In that case, I suppose I'll sleep on the floor," she says, scowling at the wolf pelt, but making no effort to remove it, or complain about it. She does recline with Chess, enjoying the heat of the fire, in this cold northland, until their meal is delivered. When they open the door, it reveals a rather buxom, red-headed human woman, dressed in a low-cut white peasant's blouse, and plaid, pleated skirts, bearing a large tray, laden with meat covered in gravy, two loaves of dark bread, and a pitcher of ale, and two large mugs. "Good evenin'!" she says, cheerfully, almost skipping into the room. "'Ere's your dinner!"