The fog became ever more intense. She held his hand that he not go astray. Her hand was small and cold. He enwrapped it in his own to give it warmth. She smiled at his concern.
They passed a pond where floated debris, bodies of dogs and cats, and perhaps objects of more unsavory character. As they reached the far edge of the pond she turned to the right, slipped and shuffled down a mucky side street.
She slid the door open and motioned him to remove his footwear. When they stepped inside she took a soiled towel from its rack, wiped his feet and her own.
The room was small. A straw mat covered the floor, and cheap cotton tapestry decorated the walls. A small barred window looked out from the back wall. A mat unrolled on the floor beneath the window served for sleeping.
She closed the door, dropped a strong wooden bar in place to block it from opening. "He will not enter. Still may the Powers help whomever he meets on these dark streets. You are fortunate I took you in. Others might have taken you for a changeling, and left you to your own devices. Many a young maid has lost her life by mating with handsome changelings!"
"You are most kind. No, no changeling I. My name is Demo, and I am here on a mission. When it is done I must once more depart."
She seemed little interested in his mission, regarded his face and figure with marked curiosity.
"Thy clothes are not as ours. Thy skin is dark from rays of sun, and here there is no sun. And thee speaketh strangely, with words and accent unknown in this land." She stopped, a bemused look on her face.
"What call you this land and its people? What is your name?"
She smiled at his questions.