The dampened rhythmic sound of steel splitting wood woke Ash from a deep sleep. Each impact traveled through the cabin's sturdy walls and into his room. His body ached. Even after a long night's rest his muscles nonetheless screamed from yesterday's training. This was nothing new, though. His body felt like this most mornings. He lay there for a moment, trying to shed the last vestiges of his unwillingness to start the day.

  With a grunt, he threw off his blankets and swung out of bed. A loud thud startled him as the book on Conjuration he was reading the night before slammed onto the stone floor. He cringed as it skidded to a halt only a few feet away from the hearth; faint whispers of last night’s fire still playing inside. With a sigh, he picked up the book, inspecting it for damage. Satisfied, he gingerly placed it on the table across the room to rest among its similarly well-worn brethren.

  Now outside the comforting warmth of his bed, the room's cold started to invade his lanky frame. He quickly threw on yesterday's clothes and grabbed the thick fur coat that hung on the back of his desk chair. It was his favorite fur coat. This was due, mostly, to it being his only fur coat. He draped it across his shoulders, its white rabbit fur collar puffy around his face; the rest of the coat consisting of a thick black fur that reached down to his ankles.

  He wasn't sure what animal it was from. Moradin, the man who was the likely source of this morning's incessant chopping of wood, came home one day with 30 pounds of the stuff. When Ash had asked what beast it had come from, the oaf simply shrugged and said “A big one.” Ash didn't care too much. It was warm, and that's all that really mattered.

  He tied it tight around his torso with the help of the rusty mirror on his wall.

  Hair's getting long, Ash thought, playing with the white strands that hung in front of his eyes. Even the ones that framed his face were starting to mix with the rabbit fur collar of his coat. He'd have to deal with that soon.

  The rhythmic chopping of wood continued to sound through the door as if an impatient guest waited outside. He begrudgingly put on his boots, and with a sigh, opened the door.

  A heavy gust of cold air hit Ash like a wall. He pushed through it and closed the heavy wooden door behind him. Hand still on the handle, he leaned his head against the door’s thick wood and strongly considered going back inside, starting a warm fire, and crawling back into bed. A subtle grin formed on his face at the idea, but he thought better of it. He sighed again and turned around, his breath forming a large cloud in front of his face. He stepped further onto the cabin’s front porch and looked around at their little homestead. Two additional doors sat to the right. One led to a common area and the other to Moradin’s room, the windows that sat next to both, absent of light. Bundling his coat tight around himself, Ash walked down the porch’s creaky stairs and into snow.

  It was still dark out. The sun didn't like to rise this time of year. However, a decently sized fire in front of the cabin proved ample light. The light flickered against the wide lumberwood trees surrounding their clearing and casted long shadows into the forest. The tall trees reached into the morning gloom like reeds into a murky lake. They made for good firewood, but their density made them impossible to cut. However, the giant of a man in front of him didn’t make it seem that way. Steam rising from his muscled form, Moradin split logs like they were made of warm sourdough.

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  “A bit early, don't you think?” Ash said, standing still as a stone. He hid his hands in the pockets of his coat and treated Moradin with a bleary eyed glare. The man was more than six heads taller than Ash. Not that Ash was short; he’d like to think that he was an average height. Moradin was just freakishly tall. The man’s brown hair, chiseled face, and half smile, that always seemed to be there, was a stark contrast to Ash.

  “Good morning to you too, sunshine.” Moradin responded, his voice deep and affable. He gave Ash a smile as big as ever, before returning to hacking away at his pile of logs.

  Seeing that smile plastered on his face this early made Ash unreasonably upset for whatever reason. The madman didn’t even have a coat on.

  Ash grunted and waddled over to a kettle of coffee in the coals next to the crackling fire, his steps crunching in the thin layer of snow. He warmed his hands before pouring himself some of the hot coffee into a small tin cup. The smell alone made him feel a bit better. He plopped on a nearby log, cupping the warm brew in both hands. Sitting there, arms and legs tucked in as much as humanly possible, he glared at Moradin hacking at log after log as he sipped his coffee.

  This is really tasty today, he thought as he gingerly sipped from the cup; its warmth and pleasant aroma sent waves of comfort through his body.

  “Not half bad, huh?” Moradin said jovially, glancing back with a cheeky smile.

  Ash responded with a glare and a dismissive grunt.

  Moradin laughed at the gesture before continuing his work.

  He didn't understand the man sometimes. It was less than twenty degrees out and the freak acted like it was the first day of summer.

  He wished he could call him a dullard, but Moradin taught him everything he knew.

  Does that make me a dullard? Ash contemplated between gentle sips. He closed his eyes for a moment, finding comfort in the contrast between the cold winter air on his face, the rich taste of hot coffee on his tongue, and the pleasant warmth and crackle of the fire beside. This is what he valued most: comfort.

  A log being tossed into the fire pulled Ash from his thoughts. It seemed Moradin was done chopping. Despite his size, Moradin's footfalls barely made any sound in the snow as he walked by Ash. He hung his ax on one of the cabin's walls before joining Ash by the fire.

  “You’re coming with me to the ruins out east today,” Moradin said as he donned his coat.

  Ash perked up at the comment. “Ruins? You finally got them open?”

  Moradin nodded with a grunt as he poured himself some coffee. “We’ll have to head there early if we want to make any meaningful progress inside.”

  Any lingering tiredness Ash had vanished like snowflakes into a fire. “You think I'm ready?”

  “I think you'll do just fine.” Moradin smiled, giving Ash a hearty pat on the back. “Also, it'll be nice having an extra pair of hands for once.”

  A pat that hard would usually put Ash in a sour mood, but he couldn't care less right now. He was finally going to enter a fresh set of ruins.