The Silver Chain

Aerin had wandered into the town, if you could really call it that, when she was very young, newly orphaned, with no relatives to step forward and claim her. She’d been taken in by the innkeeper, a gruff man of few words, who gave her a bed and board. She, in turn, helped him and his wife at the inn. She had a room over the stables, warm enough in winter and cool in the summer.
Mainly, she worked in the stables; she was rather shy of people and preferred the animals, as she tended to drop things when she was nervous. She mucked stalls, groomed horses, and polished the tack of the inn’s six ponies and any guest’s mount. It was hard work, but she had nothing to lose; no dowry, and with the scar that went from eyebrow to cheek on her right side, received in the same freakish fire that robbed her of a family, she stood little chance of marrying. She stood little chance of marrying anyway, she was considered an outsider, and a bit odd at that.
Aside from the vicious-looking scar, Aerin had long chestnut hair, kept braided severely back. Her eyes, for she still had use of her right eye, were a light golden brown; amber even, when she was in the right mood. She was taller than most women, but willowy. Most of the girls her age had little, in some cases none whatsoever, muscle; Aerin was as strong as a mule, and twice as stubborn. She was a decent rider, but only because she’d taught herself not to fall off a horse. She had no real plans for the future, for she had nothing, outside the stables, to lay claim to.