I did as the woman had instructed and walked through the town, passed the numerous garden of herbs, bleating goats and the single, unnervingly quiet, inn. I sidled up to the front door, rattling the handle and smacking the window, but no one answered. There was no movement inside, no lights, no sign the inn was open, so I continueed until I was back on the main road. Here I looked around, helped only by the moonlight, until I found the small path drifting from the road that was described to me. It was a thin dirt track, only made by boots often travelling over the same area of earth. Ferns and mushy brown leaved covered it, causing it to be barely visible.
I paused, listening to my magic. It lay in my chest as still as a pond, a welcome change after those days of terror from the asrai, but it didn't help me decide whether or not to go down the overgrown path. I blew out a rush of air and looked to the wide, open road again. Lights trailed along it, glowing warmly and keeping the dark at bay, and nothing threatening seemed to be nearby.
The boy may be playing pranks and the driver may be spreading baseless rumours, I told myself.
But an old fear began to bubble as I stared at that trodden path. It was an old, hollow thought of blood and terror, one that made me not want to find the healer. It was stupid to ignore help and carry on through the night, I knew it. Out in the darkness something worse most likely prowled and I couldn't see a thing. I was in a foreign place and I had no clue how to navigate it. Even ignoring the monsters, I could accidently walk into a ditch or be pounced on by crooks. All I wanted to get to Grigore in one piece.
But I couldn't force myself down that path. Despite telling myself to find out if the healer was a threat myself and not to just follow hearsay, my feet wouldn't move. All I could hear were screams and all I could smell was blood. I knew what trusting the wrong person did to someone and I knew that kindness and a desire to help could be used as a mask for something more sinister. My old fears won though.
'Find a little place around the edges. A tree, a shrub, just some place to sleep that can hide you, then be off in the morning when you can see clearly again.' I whispered to myself as I twisted the ring Grigore had left me.
I just had to hope nothing big came too close while I slept and that my gut was right.
So I turned my back on the thin path leading to the healer's hut and drifted off down the road, holding my hand and that ring close to my chest and listening acutely to my magic. Once I went close enough to the boundary, I pushed off the beaten path, picking my way carefully through the shrubs as I cast my eyes to find some place safe to sleep. It grew unnervingly dark as the small amount of light from the moon was eaten by the thick trees and night. The only way I could see was because my magic was still letting me see what was right in front of me. Everything appeared in a strange blue haze, giving the world an eerie feeling. The sound of owls hooting, the sharp rustling of leaves and feathers and wolves howling in the distance was not helping me keep calm. My magic remained soothed though which was a little comfort to me. If it didn't feel threatened then there was nothing nearby that was an immediate danger. I kept reminding myself of that until I saw a dim light through the trees.
I paused in confusion when I came to a very small clearing where a small, battered hut stood I'd seen just a moment ago. It wasn't imposing and had a messy, wild look to it that made it more timid than imposing. In front of it was a lamppost holding a small sputtering flame and a little scrawled sign informing me I was now in front of the healer's hut.
My brow furrowed. I didn't understand. I'd purposefully walked away from it, and yet I was now in front of it?
I touched my magic, sensing its calm still and a distinct lack of curiosity. I looked up at the hut and, with a worried heart, set off again. This time I walked straight around the edges in a differently direction, diving over the little herbal patch and delving west. I'd find the town boundary and I'd sleep, I told myself. I just got lost. It was dark enough to lose my path now and I wasn't knowledgeable enough to be navigating places I didn't know.
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The Weaver's Source
FantasyLyra has been waiting for her Weaver to find her for years, unable to leave the safety of her home and only connected to him through passionate dreams - remembering nothing about him apart from his wild, sensual song. When the lone Weaver Grigore f...