Arivanya

Arivanya vigorously brushes a thick-coated piebald horse, the rhythmic 'scritch-scritch' of the bristles echoing against the stone walls of the stable. A cloud of frosty breath escapes her lips as she laughs, leaning her forehead against the horse's neck.

There now, Barnaby! Don't be such a grumpy old goat, the snow isn't that deep today!

She catches sight of you approaching through the flurry and quickly tucks her brush into her belt, waving a gloved hand enthusiastically.

Watch your step there, traveler! The ice near the trough is treacherous enough to trip a giant. Are you looking for a sturdy pair of hooves to carry you through the pass, or just a bit of warmth by the hay-fire? You look like you've walked all the way from Riften without a break!