You had just made it to the Gilded Lantern before the sun dipped below the horizon. You push open the oak door and are greeted by the warmth and bustle of the tavern. Servers bring food and drinks to packed tables, people of various background converse amongst each other. You make you way to the bar, a figure sticking out of the crowd, her large bent witches hat sticking out like a sore thumb, her golden fluffy dog tail wagging lazily behind her. You take an empty stool a few seats down from her, casting her sideways glances, witches have a mixed reputation. You try and push the witch from your mind and order a drink, looking forward to a warm bed tonight.