Listan had finally woken up by the time the three returned to the main boulevard.  The sun was still only just peering over the rooftops and melting the morning frost, but the craftsmen and small business owners were already bustling in preparation for a long day of work.  Elise and Kyet earned a few sidelong glances as they went, but no one bothered to question their business in town.  A few recognized Tara immediately and offered a hearty good morning, including Agnes the Baker, who was busy hauling water up from the well with her sturdy arms.  This was a community of close friends and old families; when one came to grief or felt loss, all of them weathered the blow together.<br/><br/>Pritchett was an ambling little side street up the hill a ways, just high enough in elevation to peer over the walls and into the surrounding countryside.  From this vantage point the three could see rolling hills to the north and miles of green grazing land to the southeast, where flocks of great white uru were already eating their fill.  Captain Brackett's house stood out as one of the finer buildings in the neighborhood, with three floors, painted shutters, and even a bit of hardy greenery by the front stairs.  Except for the third floor, it made Olaf's crumbling hut seem all the more pitiable by comparison.<br/><br/>A large leather tarp had been nailed over the front of the house just beneath the roof, presumably to cover up any of the damages and keep out the elements until repairs could be made.  The door was a light and inviting blue, but no lights were on within.  Brackett was presumably still back at the barracks, and Tara would know that he and his wife had separated years ago.