"𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐦," softly uttered the doctor.
The diagnosis is clear; Alessia had lost the ability to utter a single word for nearly a month. Her parents, initially unconcerned, grew tense upon hearing the news, overcome by a blend of emotions that the...
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•━━ ❦ ━━☠━━ ❦ ━━•
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"Goog day, folks..."
Upon our arrival at the tavern, silence prevails. Bepo, who usually displays more cheerfulness on the wintry islands, remains silent, and Alessia has withdrawn her presence, by telling me that she felt something watching us at the edge of the forest.
Everyone is tense, and I can't blame them, for I too have a bad feeling.
We take seats on several benches. Most of us opt for the local beer, made from a plant that grows in the high mountains during the mildest weather periods. I read somewhere that it has analgesic effects if consumed as is, but I don't think I have time to delve into it while this man lurks nearby...
As minutes pass, the crew relaxes a bit. The other customers have resumed their activities, and orders arrive promptly. Only a few glances linger, those of bounty hunters.
"They're captivated by your beauty," Alessia whispers to me, leaning over the table.
I let out a smile, the urge to return the compliment is irresistible, but so is the desire to see her reaction if I don't.
