No Matter What

Chapter VIII

I moved slower than I would have liked to, but I was getting better. My body was recovering from the soreness. I was getting stronger as I regained my energy through occasional rest and food. Lots of food. I had never eaten so much before. I had never felt that hungry. I ate and ate and soon there was nothing to eat. I had eaten all of the sustenance I had packed.

I did not freak out too much. I had already filled my stomach and my energy was back. I still had a good amount of walking to do, but it would be no big deal to skip one meal. However, as I walked, the hunger came. After a while, my stomach started complaining. I pulled it in, and that helped, but the lack of supplement became more evident as time passed.

I was starting to consider hunting, when I saw the medium sized hut a few yards away. As I got closer, I could make out the letters on the sign, "Travelers' Inn." I ran to the door and opened it, a little bell rang.

"Uh—hallo," an old man said.

"Hi," I replied, "I'm looking for—uh... food?"

"Vee serve meals only to those who stay," he had a foreign accent, he's r's were pronounced in a way I had never heard before.

"Okay. I'd like a room, then, please."

I did not want to stay, I had a limited time period, but I knew I could not go on as hungry as I was. Dinner would be served in a bit. After that, I would head to Fairyland to collect the green fairy dust.

The old man took a key from a drawer and lead me to the place where I would be staying. He held it with his ringed hand. He was proud of the golden accessory. The heart-shaped ruby it featured almost seemed to glow.

"Vee vill call joo ven the food is ready," he said then walked back to his balcony, leaving my key on the door.

I went in and closed the door. A bed. It felt like an eternity ago, the last time I slept on a proper one. I spread my arms as lied back. Rest. I sat up and knelt forward to take off my sandals. I put them under the small desk that was by the door. My right foot was badly injured. There were painful burnt blisters on the center. I pulled up my sleeves to look at my arms. The cuts were starting to scab over. I lied back down on the bed and closed my eyes tight. I kept seeing it. I kept feeling it. I relived what happened on that boat.

"Stop remembering. Stop remembering. Stop remembering," I kept telling myself. My eyebrows knitted and my forehead frilled.

After a while of shaking my head, I managed to fall asleep. I was woken up by a knock on my door.

"Dee-ah!" the old man said it as if it were a song, "Dinner is ready!"

I got up, still half-asleep, and opened the door. The old man had a tender smile on his face, it was contagious.

"Joo go down and to the right," he pointed as he said the directions to the diner. I thanked him as he walked away, he had a fast pace for his age.

"Sir," I said and he turned around, "I don't believe we introduced our names, I'm Gwen."

He smiled and said, "Joo can call me Mr. Schpiel." He continued his way to the balcony.

I could smell the meal from my room. Some kind of soup. My stomach rumbled at the thought of eating it. I put on my sandals and walked to the room where the food would be served. It was not crowded, but there were more people than I expected. Two men sat impatiently at a table, a group of young boys at another. The boys yelled and threw things at each other. A man and a woman, probably the boy's parents, sat at a table right next to the little rascals.

I decided to sit as far away from the boys as possible. I sat on a table next to the two men.

We waited for a while until, finally, the cook came out, a strong old lady with a huge pot of pumpkin soup. She placed it down on the table at the center. The boys ran to the food and fought over who got to be first in line. The rest of us walked and made another line on the other side of the table. The cook came out with wooden plates and a big spoon. The boys ambushed her, each taking an item, and served themselves so fast one of them spilled the content of their plate. He poured some more soup and ran to catch up with the others.

The cook, unamused, went into the kitchen and came back with rags to clean the soup covered floor. I served myself last and sat where I was even more certain that I wanted to sit now—far, far away from those demon children. As I slurped down my meal, I could not help overhearing the conversation between the two men on the table next to me.

"Impossible, I tell you," said the first man. He had a curly brown beard and a round face.

"My. God. Tell me all about it!" said the other. This one seemed like the perfect opposite of the first. Skinny and tall, with long arms and no hair, not even on his head. His baldness made his big ears stand out.

"Well, there I was, right? Standing right in the middle of a forked road; three different ways."

"Right. Each one leads to a different witch's house."

"Correct."

Three ways, each leading to a different witch's house.... Something about what they had said seemed familiar. I kept listening.

"So there I was, trying to guess which one had the purple rose," the bearded one continued, "I decided to go left. But those three witches are wicked! They set traps all over the path!"

"And you survived!"

"I barely survived! They guard those roses with their lives!"

"Ah, the Roses. You know, I saw them once?"

"You did?"

"Well, the petals. One of each."

"Blue, black, and purple."

I gasped. My gasp was so loud, everybody turned towards me, even the boys. The cook peeked out the kitchen door.

"Sorry," I said, "the soup is just so delicious!"

Everyone went back to their meal. The men kept talking. I had figured out why it felt like I had heard about what they talked of before. The rose petals were part of the ingredients list!

"Anyway," the round man said, "the path was full of traps and I had to run back."

"Had to?"

"Y—yeah... Had to."

"Oh my..."

"And that is when I found this place."

"How dangerous! Imagine how many travelers came out of this very inn and turned into that small road only to fall into all of those traps you have to face!"

"Certainly. They need to put up a sign."

"So, anyway, you were saying before... 10 gold coins? You will be rich with this offer! When does he arrive?"

The conversation was no longer of my interest. I put my plate on the center table and I left, heading towards my room.

I took out the map from my bag.

"Turn into a small road..." I said to myself, looking for said road in the map, "Found it."

I took my bag and walked to the balcony.

"Vell, hallo! How can I help joo, Gwen?" said the old man.

"I'm leaving now."

He looked concerned, "Now? So soon? So late! Don't joo vant to stay the night?"

"No. I'm sorry. I have to go." I held out the key to my room.

"Oh... Okay..." he took it from my hand, it clinked against his ring.

I handed him the proper amount of coins, then left.

"Farevell!" he waved as I went out the door. It was dark and the air was cold. I turned right and kept walking down the dry-earthed road.

I took out the map to locate myself. Was I ready for this? If that man could not do it, how could I? "I can," I said to myself, "I can because I have something he does not have: the courage to go through anything to save my mother."

The turn was narrow and deserted. I stood there, talking myself into it. I kept walking. The trees were not tall and they had nothing strange about them, but they slowly made the road become narrower, which made it feel like the air was suffocating me. I decided to close my eyes. I closed them and I kept walking until I felt ready to open them again. When I did, I found myself in the same situation as that man in the Travelers' Inn. Three roads, three ways. I took the same decision he did, I went to the far left.