Page Turner looked into his mug of cider, refusing to make eye contact with any of the ponies around him. While he did have a hidden strength in his small body, it didn't change the fact that there were a few characters here that could snap him in half if they thought he looked at them in an odd way. This meant the only place that he could look, was into his drink. He'd somehow managed to get a place in front of the fire without argument, and he savored the warmth emanating from the flames. He was no stranger to the cold, but he still preferred his heat. He risked a glance around the room, and again saw that he really was out of place. Half the size of almost everypony else, one of the few stallions with shorn fetlocks and the only with glasses. He began to regret ever coming to this frozen place, and having to stay because of the storm. But the treasured he managed to buy off of that mare were nothing short of incredible. Treasure was a relative term, as not all ponies saw bound paper as riches. The irony was that while these types of places were the last location in Equestria book-loving ponies could be found, they held some of the oldest and most fascinating tomes. A few of them the Canterlot library might even be interested in. For now, though, he was stuck until the morning, when the storm was going to subside enough for him to move his wagon out. Until then, all he had was the fire and a few drinks, but even that little group had to be interrupted by a loud bang. Page turned around with the rest of the tavern's occupants to look at the mare that seemed to want the attention. She began ranting about courage and an epic quest of some sort, but Page simply returned to looking into the fire, tuning her out. But a single word bought his attention back to the loud mare. The dragon of Naskralar. Was she really.... By th time his mind had pieced it all together, the mare was in front of the the fire with him, taking in the warmth. Not knowing how to approach the mare, he went the usual route and held out his hoof. "I'm Page Turner. Now you say your seeking the old dragon of Naskralar? Last I heard, it was just a legend." He reached into his saddle bag and pulled out one of the books he'd obtained that afternoon. It was a deep brown with an artistic representation of a dragon on the front. "And I know my legends."