Utterly Mad

By the time she reached the farmhouse, the rain was coming down in sheets. The farmhouse was ancient, but once inside Ferret found that it was quiet dry. Well kept in fact, for the most part. It sported a fire place and more surprisingly, there was dry wood at hand. In short order she had a good fire burning in the hearth. She had been soaked through by her day in the swamp and the gentle warmth of the fire gave a welcome respite. Once she had warmed up a bit, she took stock of her surroundings. The farm house was sturdily built and sparsely furnished. She closed her eyes and, as Stam had explained in his notes, waited. The purpose, as Stam Dalenson had written, was to try and feel the "intent" of ones surroundings. The lands beyond the cold desert had a palpable sensation of threat to them that one could feel simply by concentrating and listening. She felt nothing more than the warmth of the fire and the damp still clinging to her clothes. She smelled the dull aroma of old wood and the astringent scent of burning pine, and the only sounds she could make out were the low crackle of the fire, the rythem of her own breathing, and the heavy drone of the rain on the shingled roof. The house, such as it was, was safe. She removed her clothes and set them before the fire to dry. Folded up on a shelf was found a large, thin blanket and wrapping herself in it, Ferret decided that she would hole up here until the weather cleared, or at least lessened.