Thornhaven's interior spread out before us in the warm glow of evening.
The main street was wide enough for two wagons to pass comfortably, paved with cobblestones that showed decades of wear but were well-maintained. Buildings lined both sides, mostly two or three stories, stone foundations with timber upper floors, peaked roofs designed to shed rain and snow.
Street lamps were being lit by workers carrying long poles with flames.
The smell of cooking food drifted from various establishments.
Market stalls were in the process of closing, merchants packing up their wares, calling out final deals to passersby. I caught glimpses of what they'd been selling preserved foods, traveling supplies, monster materials: claws, hides, what looked disturbingly like eyes in jars, weapons and armor in varying states of repair.
People moved with the purposeful energy of a working town at day's end. Laborers heading home, their tools over their shoulders.
