17 December
To: Oliver Thornstead
Bree-town
My Dearest Uncle,
I pray that this letter finds you and Aunt in good health and keeping. I allowed myself a glimpse of your firewood stack when last I visited, and if you'll forgive me, the supply seemed rather low. You must tell me if you have need of more, for I can obtain as much as you like at a good price from Mister Thorne. He owes me a favor or two, after all.
I have kept myself busy enough these past days since departing your enviable hospitality. Bree is as predictable and peculiar a village as it ever was, and I do not think it will be changing anytime in the near future. I have not seen hide nor hair of the odd and badly tempered young woman I mentioned to you some time ago. She seemed to both crave and despise my company at the same time, and for such women, I have little tolerance. Can you blame me? Surely not, for you know all too well what I have endured from Miss Forbush in the past.
A new cloak has been obtained, and I proclaim that I like it better than the last, which I bestowed upon the young lady walking about quite inadequately dressed for the cold. I hope it served its purpose. Whither it goes now is beyond my knowing or my concern.
The faggot of firewood for the woman Ulfey has been secured and brought to town. I will see if I can find her, but if not, I will leave it at the Prancing Pony with instructions for Butterbur to pass it on to her. If he forgets, as he is prone to do, my ire will be upon him.
Have you plans for Yule, Uncle? I know you would not think of forgetting to extend an invitation to your beloved nephew for your yearly festivities. I dearly look forward to a glass of Aunt's mulled cider and a few songs by the hearth.
Until Next We Meet,
Westen
