Ilene walked down the dirt road, not giving the fog much thought. She could walk this road with her eyes closed. She was just happy that her father had let her go, he had been worried about the fog of course but by now Ilene knew just how to wrap him around her little finger. She was the only child of the miller and his wife, that's why she lived half an hours walk from the village, where the river ran wild and powered the mill's big paddle wheel. The mill itself was a rather large and impressive stone building, with thick walls and narrow and deep windows, impossible for anyone but a windling to get through, put perfect to fire your crossbow from at any brigands foolish enough to attack the building. Since Ilene's family lived outside the protection of the village palisade, you could never be to carefull.<br/>Growing up in the mill hadn't been to bad, though it had been lonely for large parts of her childhood. When she was younger she had not been allowed to make the trip into Whitewater herself, so when her parents didn't have time to escort her she could spend days without meeting her friends. Lucky for her, her father loved books and had spent a small fortune to build a nice collection. Ariahva's father had set up a nice and cozy reading room on the second floor of the inn for the guests to enjoy, but even though it had some rare books it didn't come close to the library in the mill. Ilene had spent many lonely days poring over those books, and somehow it had helped.<br/>Of course, these days she was rarely alone, almost as she was making up for lost time. Or maybe it was because she was the daughter of a miller. Five decades earlier the famed elven troubadour Chauncerier had written the song "The Miller's Daughter" in honor of a woman he had had a brief, but intense, affair with. The song quickly became a favorite among the commoners of Barsaive, and not only because of the catchy tune or the clever lyrics, but also because of the very naughty way it described the adventures of a woman who's thirst for men could not be sated. Songs and legends held great power in a world so rich in magic. Who knew, maybe Ilene's appetite had something to do with the song and the common perception of what a miller's daughter was like? Or maybe she just was a bit of a slut. These kind of thoughts never burdened Ilene, nor did the gossip around the village. She was young and pretty and men favored her, why not take advantage of her good fortunes? So far she had managed to keep her activeties from her parents, but how long that would last no one could say.<br/>Ilene shivered, the days were getting colder. Yesterday her father had seen a large block of ice float down the Serpent. It used to be that the climate was far to hot for any snowfall, but for the last ten years or so some of the land north of the Serpent had been hit with brief but hard winters. It was the Scourge, most agreed, you couldn't even trust the weather anymore. They could probably expect snow any day now. Ilene hurried on, eager to warm herself by the fire at the Stone Turtle. Maybe she should have put on some more clothes...