“It’s bloody cold here,” Skillet thought. The other Dwarfs, all males as far as she could tell, seemed to relish the perpetual nip in the air. “Aye, as soon as I can, I’m takin’ myself to warmer climes, and enough of this nonsense.” No one seemed to notice how close she sat next to the fire. If nothing else, the Dwarfs knew how to keep the ale flowing, and the fires stoked. A log snapped in pyrotechnic protest. She brushed a cinder off of her sleeve, and moved a bit further back, hearing a loud, cheery laugh from the innkeeper.
And cold as hell