The traveler walked past another closed storefront that evening, the seasonal chill biting through his worn cloak though it was wrapped tightly about him. The torch on the shop's front banister had yet to be extinguished by the owner, though the light wind looked as if it may save him the trouble before long either way.
Another step and a soft crumpled sound was made as his boot touched the ground. He paused, looked downward, and angled his foot just slightly to see what he'd trampled.
A muddy and torn parchment with a large tear where the nail once held it to a wall, somewhere. He would ordinarily have dismissed it as rubbish and kept on, but he was taken by the beauty of the faded manuscript. It had been quite some time since he'd last seen anything written in a more elegant script than what the common folk of Eriador usually mustered, and so with interest piqued he bent to unfurl the remains of the posting.
He needed to dust off the dirt coating in spots, and some words had already been obliterated, but the man understood the gist of its message. He couldn't recall seeing anyone about Bree fitting the description given, but he knew that winter would be upon the land soon and he desired warmth from the coming elements if nothing else.
He folded the parchment, carefully slipped it inside his battered rucksack, and continued on – this time with his head up so as to keep a look out for this mysterious person.
OOC: Written in response to this notice.
Update: This kin did not work out for me but will be leaving my writing up, for historical sake.
