The Twilight Child Saga

Chapter 7: The Willowbrook Sanctuary

The Silver Griffin

The morning sun, a golden orb in the sky, painted the fields with long shadows, and Cassandra, her satchel heavy with dreams, set off towards Willowbrook. Each step on the well-worn path was a brushstroke on the canvas of her new life. Birdsong filled the air, a hopeful melody that mirrored her cautious optimism.

As the sun climbed higher, her thoughts drifted to Thomas. Had he mentioned her to the folks at the Silver Griffin? Or would she arrive unannounced, a stranger seeking refuge? Hunger gnawed at her, a physical reminder of the uncertainty she had left behind.

Finally, Willowbrook emerged from the valley like a haven in the storm. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the rich earth, and the cheerful chatter of villagers swirled in the air. Cassandra's heart quickened.

The Silver Griffin Tavern and Inn stood proudly in the village square, a weathered sign swinging in the breeze. Horses were tethered to hitching posts, and the inviting sounds of laughter and music spilled out onto the street.

Hesitation tugged at her. But the tantalizing aroma of roasting meat and simmering stews proved too strong for her weary body to resist. With a deep breath, she tugged her hood lower, concealing her face.

The tavern doors stood open, beckoning her inside. As she crossed the threshold, a wave of relief washed over her. She had arrived. Now, all that remained was to see if they would give her a chance.

The tavern door, heavy and oak, groaned open, releasing a gentle breeze and the sounds of laughter and music into the morning air. Cassandra hesitated on the threshold. The warmth and the enticing smells beckoned but also stirred a knot of unease in her stomach. She pulled her hood lower, a silent plea for anonymity.

Inside, flickering firelight danced on the walls, casting long shadows that whispered secrets. Hunting trophies and faded tapestries adorned the room, hinting at a proud and mysterious history. The air crackled with the energy of a hearth fire and the vibrant hum of conversation.

A woman, solid and welcoming, stood behind the bar. Her eyes, though kind, held a shrewd intelligence that Cassandra couldn't ignore. "Well, hello there, young traveler," the woman greeted, her voice as warm as the firelight. "What brings you to the Silver Griffin this fine morning?"

Cassandra's voice, though soft, carried a steely resolve. "I'm seeking work, ma'am. I heard you might need a stablehand."

The woman's smile tightened, replaced by a scrutinizing gaze. "Is that so? And what makes you think you're qualified for such a position?" Her tone held a challenge, an invitation for Cassandra to prove herself.

Cassandra met the woman's gaze head-on, her green eyes flashing with a determination that belied her youth. "I've grown up around horses, ma'am," she answered, her voice steady. "I can muck stalls, groom, and handle even the most spirited steeds."

A flicker of interest sparked in the woman's eyes. "That's a start," she conceded. "But we need more than just skills here. We need someone reliable, hardworking, and trustworthy."

Cassandra's chin lifted a fraction. "I can be all those things," she vowed, her voice unwavering. "And more.

The woman, Agnes, studied her for a long moment, her gaze piercing. Then, a smile bloomed on her face. "Alright then," she said, extending a hand, "young... uh..."

"Cassius, ma'am," Cassandra supplied, her grip firm as she shook Agnes' hand. A new name, a fresh start.

"Cassius," Agnes repeated, her smile genuine, then started her sentence again. "Alright then, Cassius, let's see what you can do. The stables are out back."