The cobble stone street was wet from the recent down pour. Eira stood on the soaked road, the water from the rain storm still dripping off of her cloak and on top the road. A slight breeze began to come from the east, rustling the bottom of her cloak.

Eira moved her head sharply to look at the sky above. As she did the water on the hood of her cloak sent small droplets of water flying onto the cobble stones, that made a small dripping sound as the droplets crashed into the stones.

The once angry storm clouds that had raged on so violently not more than an hour ago, now were retreating out of sky and back to where come from. They were no longer a deep violet and back, but to much of Eira's surprise, were a light gray. The clouds continued to fleet toward the west, revealing the full moon.

The moon was a captivating shade of gold that cast a light upon the cobble road. The breeze began to grow stronger, now pushing the the puddles of water toward the west. Eira was covered in water, and the breeze, that had now began to grow stronger by the minute, sent a chill through out her body, that chilled her to the bone.

Eira's scarlet eyes fell on the small inn that stood on the northern edge of the road. She stared at it for several seconds before walking across the empty road toward the pleasantly lit inn. Her heels clicked on the stone street and splashed in the puddles as she walked toward the inn.

The inn was small, but looked warm and welcoming. But in a strange sort of way, like it was to welcoming. Eira reached for knob, grasping it, feeling the worn brass in her hands. She gave the oak door a firm pull, attempting to open the door, but it barely budged. She gave it a firmer pull, and managed to open the door.

A rush of hot air met her face, causing a strange sensation on he wet, rain covered face. Eira stepped into the front room of the inn.

The front room was lit by candles and a roaring fire in the hearth, which was probably the source of the heat of the room. An old lady sat in an over sized coat sat in the corner of the room, stirring a stew that rested over the open fire and staring into the flames that danced around the pot.

She was old, and appeared older than the sands of time. Her face was like a wrinkly peach covered in brown age spots. Her nose was large and crooked, and it curved over like a bird's beak. Her lips were cracked thin lines that were curved in a particular manner that resembled a deranged smile of a lunatic. Her eyes were black and piercing like that of a hawk. They stared into the fire, which reflected back in her irises, giving them an eerie glow.

Eira broke her stare from the old women, searching around the small front room for a desk to check in. The desk was hidden in the shadows of a corner in the far side of the room. Eira tapped on the small bell that rested on the worn oak desk.

The old woman's head snapped toward Eira's direction. "It will be a while deary, the inn keeper is occupied at the moment."

There was something about the way that the old woman spoke, her voice was that of a sweet old lady, but there was something about the way that it seemed to pierce your ears like nails on a chalk board. It sent a chill down Eira's spine.

"Well then," Eira paused, "I will just wait her then." She could feel heart beats begin to grow more rapid, adrenaline began to pump in her veins. Something about this old woman didn't seem right.

Things were silent for a long time, as Eira stood at the front desk and the woman remained at the hearth stirring the stew. Eventually the old woman was the one to break the silence.

"Would you like some Inn Keeper Stew, darling?"

Eira was hesitant at first, she didn't know whether or not to trust the woman, something in her gut not to do it. But Eira did not wish to come across as rude, so she nodded silently and moved toward the old woman, who was pouring her a bowl of the stew.

Eira toke the bowl from the old woman, and gave the woman a faked, warm smile, "Thank you," she whispered.

It smelled foul, and looked just as bad as it smelled. The stew was a dark red color, almost a blood red. There where various vegetables like squash, cucumbers, and broccoli floating around in the scarlet colored juice. The meat to the stew was a strange looking sort of meat, that was a deep red that had rings, of what she presumed, was fat. It caused her stomach to turn.

She fiddled with the spoon, trying not to eat it.

"Do you like it?" asked the woman.

Eira gulped down a spoon full of the stew. It was not as bad as she thought it would be. She nodded to the old woman and continued to eat the soup. After she ate about half of the soup, she began to feel tired. "It must be the travel" she thought.

"Why is this called Inn Keeper Soup?" she questioned, turning her head to look at the old woman.

"Well, it is called that because the Inn Keeper made such a good soup, it was decided to name it after him," she said politely.

"It is a shame though, that had to kill the Inn Keeper to make the stew. He was such nice old man," muttered the woman. She looked at Eira, and smiled.

Her vision began to blur, and she began to stumble and lose her balance. Eira dropped the bowl of stew and fell back onto the floor.

There was something in that stew.

Eira could not move, she tried to move her arms and legs but they were lifeless, unresponsive pieces of meat.

"Now there is none of him left to make anymore stew with." She turned to the paralyzed Eira, and drew a knife from her coat. "But do not fret love. You will make just as wonderful of a stew I am sure of it."

The old woman named Selma Black stood by the hearth, stirring her stew, waiting for the storms of the East Wind to bring her next ingredient for her stew.

I was just really bored on night.