The Wanders 1: Priceless

Chapter 4

The family firepit was dented, but stable enough for a soothing warmth tonight. The family sat around it, away from what was left of their home, and felt the calm beyond the trauma.

Gomer and Ciela kept conversation light with the kids while everyone reassured Ma that the danger was over. Tubby lay relaxed with a few raw roasts, his wounds freshly dressed and the others patting him. Their better foods came from a flattened pantry to roast over the fire. As the minutes turned to hours, moods subtly lightened until even a song or two sweetened the air.

But nobody slept. Not Gomer still feeling the fight, or Ciela who kept her dagger ready, or the kids both coming to terms with a new reality of their lives. Even Tubby kept a skittish eye on the road in case those bandits came back while Ma kept forgetting that her cot was beneath half a ton of wagon. Between the six of them, nobody got a wink.

...............

It was a bad idea. Everybody knew it was, but nobody had a better one. Dante kept a tight grip on his training sword while Abeline held onto her book. Gomer and Ciela walked in step, quietly assuring each other that returning to Alenwell wouldn't be the death of them. As abrasive as going back felt to everyone, the truth was they couldn't travel anywhere without supplies.

So they moved down the road, strolling with no real hurry and light talk to accent the footsteps.

"You think we could get some breakfast while we're there?" piped Abeline.

Ciela tossed back a smirk. "Sure, and maybe stop in for a nice bath before the bandits know we're around."

"Okay, I know you're joking," grinned the girl, "But that actually sounds really good."

Gomer hid his own apprehension behind a smiling hum, "We'll head in, get ourselves some provisions and maybe a tent, then head on. Simple as that. We got savings enough to last a while till we get back on our feet."

"Glablagrra?" asked Tubby.

Ma returned a sniff, "The dog is right, dear. We really ought to be heading home. Who knows when those ruffians will come back!"

"We lost the wagon, Ma," boredly corrected Dante.

"We did?" blinked Ma. "Where did you last see it? I'm sure we can find it if we start searching."

Gomer probably would have let that comment sink in, perhaps ponder over what they should do now that their home was a pile of splinters, but his attention drifted when they came around a bend in the road. There, not a mile away, lay the village of Alenwell.

The sun was high by now and the markets appeared to be in full swing. Its merchants came and went with shouts of advertisement echoing between the streets and caravans. They all acted as if nothing had happened, though a few took glances at the disheveled elves now trudging in from the wilderness.

The Wanders were on guard, measuring their steps and shifting their eyes across every passerby. That wasn't to say they appeared overly combative, but there was a certain uninviting air they carried all the way to the desk of a certain old appraiser.

He was as busy now as when the Wanders had first met him, tidying up a shelf when five elves and a massive beast came up to his counter. He didn't seem to notice them at first, but then turned to see Gomer and Ciela. His breath froze and his eyes went round.

"Hi," Ciela quietly hissed. "Remember us?"

Instead of the terror they all expected, the old man paused before growing a wide open smile. His face brightened with a near laugh before he ran out from behind his counter to shake Gomer's hand. "I can't believe it! Sure I wanted to, but I thought those hoodlums were just cheesing when they said you all slabbed Korse!"