The shepherd nods. “I have both if you tell me what it is you need,” he says calmly. A mage, then. Or some magic user. Wren clears his throat, then nods to the dogs. “Baxter, outside. Annie, stay.” The larger black and white shakes himself then slips from the room and around the corner. From there, the sound of a latch being thrown and then a door opening before closing. 

“The water will be ready for your tea if you've a need of it. Otherwise, there is clean water from the pump in the kitchen around there and I've most of the local herbs, dried and in tinctures. If you've need of something I do not have, then I will get Marge to give it to you.” He considers a moment, then adds, “You say you'd like a body of water and there is that, on the other side of town. If the well water is not sufficient, that is.” 

He scratches his nose, then lifts a brow toward the magical man. Then, because there is little he can do immediately, Wren takes a step to the side where he settles into a small, horsehair chair. With a grunt, the weaver leans over and begins to undo his boots. The evening will happen with or without a guest. 

The process of removing his winter gear is calmly done. The shepherd first undoes laces, then pulls boots off. These, he sets beside the fire, combating the damp of a day's work before settling back and undoing arm braces of wool and leather. He begins to lay out various clothing items on a rack to the other side of himself. His cloak, hung on the hook by the wall, will dry in the warmth, but not so the overtunic, the kilt, his woolen socks. All is woven well, tight and finer than the usual coarse fare of the peasantry. But then, it is Wren's work and he has traveled a great deal, woven for many a year. 

He lays all of his things out, stripped down to a pair of linen breeches and a light tunic of lawn. With a cough, Annie curled by the hearth and ignoring him now that the usual systematic settling in has been done, Wren leans forward and gives his guest a close look. 

“I've no need to ask questions if they'll bring trouble. But there'll be curiosity. This town has little involvement with Kirin folk. Not that they're against them, mind, but you'll seem alien to them, even as human as you are.” Wren curled his large forearms across his knees, hands at opposite elbows. “If you'll be here long enough to heal, you might want to tell me what you'd like me to say, to stave off questions.”