Her cart trundled after her as she walked along the dusty road. The thing moved of its own accord, much like a pet dog would. Then again, while dogs were seen as very loyal, she still very much preferred her cart.
The witch saw a little town come up on the horizon, and heard the cart speed up a little behind her. They both knew what this town meant. A new place to sell wares. A new place to rest. A new place to potentially get her reputation smeared to the point that she was cast out for being a witch. Again.
The cart kept speeding up. It was an optimist, obviously. The witch herself gave up on optimism long ago. People just kept disappointing her.
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Tiny Stories Part 2
Short StoryMy second collection of microfiction, sometimes dealing with the mundane, but mostly dealing with the magical. Unlike the first collection, the stories in this one are based on inktober prompts.
