Her reverie was interrupted by a noise at the entrance to the smithy. Standing outside holding the reins of a monster of a horse was Patren Longfoote. Serali immediately tried to make herself as inconspicuous in her corner as she could. She had taken to Brek instantly, when the outlander had moved into the village a few years past, but she had not taken to Patren at all.

Breck looked up from his work, and Serali saw a flash of distaste run across his face before he smoothed it out into a neutral expression.

"Hey Breck," called the other man. "I need to have this brute here re-shod."

"Alright, I suppose you want him done now, since you've hauled him along."

"You've got it right, blacksmith, I'm going on a bit of a trip soon and I'll need to have new shoes before I go."

"Bring him in then and I'll get started."

Patren came in through the big double doors at the front of the smithy, leading the horse behind. He was a large man, not as broad as Breck was, but taller. He too was from outside the village, having moved in from parts unknown a little more than a year ago. Unlike Breck, or Serali herself, he was dark skinned and dark haired, though taller than most of the village-folk. Perhaps because of this, or perhaps because he was an open, charming man, unlike Breck's self contained taciturnity, he was fairly well accepted by the village folk. There was even talk of letting him be a part of the Mayor's council. But Serali's parents didn't like him, and Serali herself felt terribly uncomfortable any time he was near. He looked at her far too often, she thought, and she got the feeling that something very unpleasant was going on behind his dark, unfathomable eyes. He caught sight of her and turned that look on her now. She felt like a mouse cornered by a cat. Something in his gaze set off every instinct she had. There was something wrong with him, something that didn't show but that she could sense all the same.

She tried not to show how unsettled she felt and pretended to ignore him, turning her gaze back to the fire.

Fortunately shoeing a horse didn't take terribly long, and Patren was soon leading the big, ugly animal away. If he looked on the outside the way he is on the inside, thought Serali, he'd be uglier than the horse is.

"You don't like him either, do you?" asked Brek.

"No I don't. There's something nasty about him. He looks at me and I feel like it's making me dirty just from the looking. He's always polite to everyone, but I don't like him all the same."

"You're right not to, child. And never let yourself be alone with him. I don't know, of course, but I can guess. I've seen his like in the city before. They're fakes, all of them, and liars. What exactly he's hiding and what he's lying about I don't know, but I doubt it's anything good."

"I wish they'd pitch him out, if they're going to pitch out outlanders," said Serali sourly.

"I couldn't agree with you more, child. But no one here is going to be listening to either of us. They're good folk here, you and I both know that, but they're too used to seeing only their own. They're judging on what somebody looks like, and not what he really is." Then he picked up his hammer and shook his head. "Enough of that though. No use complaining about things that can't be changed." And with that he resumed his banging, the sharp clang, clang of the hammer on hot metal filled the room.