Myths: The Folklore Trilogy

Chapter 22- In Which Our Future Is Told

The woman's house was small and simple, an almost homey atmosphere. A small fire was crackling in the fireplace, and some bread thing that smelled delicious was in the oven. I breathed in deeply. It was a sense of contentment.

She gestured for us to sit down at a table, and we obliged. Audrey was tense, her eyes darting around the room, her brow furrowed. Audrey was always slow to trust.

The woman placed three mugs of something steaming in front of us. It smelled like heaven, chocolatey with a vanilla tint. Audrey eyed her cup suspiciously, and Sophie, sensing her hesitation, waited for a moment. But I detected no malice in the woman, nor the cottage, nor the drinks. I took a tenative sip.

My tongue practically lit up with joy. It was like milk hot chocolate, white hot chocolate, and hot vanilla (if there is such a thing) mixed together. I sighed while I savored it. Then I took another sip. Warmth blossomed in my chest. I couldn't hold back a smile from my face.

Sophie drank next, then finally Audrey. They loved it just as I did. It tasted like home.

"Do you like it?" The woman said, breaking me out of my thoughts. I nodded emphatically. She smiled. "It's called ambrosia, if you've heard of it before. It always tastes like what you need most at the moment."

"It tastes like home," Sophie said quietly. The woman gave a pained smile. "I know, child. I know."

She began wrapping a green cloth around my wounded arm. I winced. It was cold and wet, and hurt when it touched my skin. The woman tied it off gently. "That was quite brave of you, continuing to fight with an injury like this," she whispered. I shrugged with my good arm.

"By the way, Sierra," Audrey said, turning to me, "that thing you did with your elbow. That was awesome! Teach me that!"

I shifted uncomfortably. "It's not that cool. Stage Combat 101, never hit anyone with your elbow. The bone there is harder and more concentrated. If you accidentally hit someone in the face with it, you could really hurt them."

They stared at me. "Stage combat?" Sophie asked.

"I told you guys I did a lot of theater," I said. I looked at their blank faces. "Um, or maybe not." There was an awkward silence.

The woman cleared her throat. "I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Genevieve. I am a diviner."

There was silence, except for the crackling of the fire. Funny thing, fire. It becomes the loudest things in moments of silence. Always bright, always dancing, just begging for attention.

"A diviner?" Audrey blurted out. "Those exist?"

"What's a diviner?" Sophie whispered.

"Like a fortune teller," I whispered back. She nodded.

"Yes dear, they most definitely do exist," Genevieve said with a wry smile on her face. "My gift is not much appreciated in the world today."

She looked at us, suddenly serious. "You gave me a gift. You saved my life. Now I would like to share my gift with you."

There was silence. The Audrey exclaimed, "You mean tell our future?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, but that's a bunch of balony."

Genevieve suddenly giggled, in a very juvenile, almost...creepy, way. I squirmed uncomfortably.

"Oh dear, are you one of thooooose people, the disbelievers?" she teased, her eyes growing wide. I shared a worried look with Sophie. Was this lady ok?

Genevieve started walking towards a different section of the cottage. She knelt down, rolled a carpet up a little, which revealed a trapdoor. She opened it and began climbing down. She popped her head back up to look at us, her eyes still wide and a strange grin on her face. "Well aren't you coming dears? Haven't you ever had your fortune told before?" Her gaze darkened, but she never stopped smiling. "You never know until you try it."