The Thief and The Blind {Autumn Tale}
There is an old Ivratian story, often recalled in the foggy days of Autumn, called The Thief and the Blind. It’s a tale as old and hazy as the mists that inspire it—the details changing with every retelling, save for the name and the core of the story: two enemies caught in an eternal chase.
A cautionary tale about accepting gifts from strangers
Author's Notes
Word Count: 453
word count (4) + world-specific (1) + atmosphere (2) = 7 x 2 for prompt response = 14
Total: 14 gold
Overall Reward: -1 Cost and Mending Scroll
Prompt 3: Conclusion
Either one is absolutely horrifying—what does your character do?
Roe chooses to continue on their way, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the two strangers and their chase
With both of the scoundrels now gone, the thick fog soon began to dissipate as if it were never there at all. The sun broke through, sharply blinding Roe so she squinted hard against the harsh light. Despite the changes, the air still hung heavy with magic around her. It was a cold and heartless feeling, like all the love in the world had been sucked away. Every hair on her body stood erect. Whatever they were and whatever they were after, Roe had no interest in finding out more. They were trouble.
Hurriedly, she gathered all the plants, herbs and shrooms she needed for her training. She didn't want to spend another minute around here, in fear they were going to return for her. Their ominous appearance shook her to the core. Had she made the right decision turning away their offerings? There were so many questions which were going to probably go unanswered. She had little faith in anything she had to say on the matter.
Before scarpering home, she glanced around quickly. Were there any traces left behind? Should she warn people? But, to her dismay, there were no track marks in the mud; no pieces of evidence left behind. If she were to run back into town now, shouting about these two strangers, she would be laughed at. In a room full of professors, Roe knew full well that a truth had to be backed up with evidence and facts. She had none of those. The wise choice for her was to keep her mouth shut. Would this potentially open the door for them to collect more victims? Possibly. It was chance Roe was willing to take for her own sanity. Her position at Namarast was rocky already and she wasn't going to put her head on the chopping block for a potential hallucination.
She walked the path she followed, across the river and over the field towards home. She walked past many on their own travels but her lips stayed sealed. If there was trouble to be had, they were to find out for themselves. Once home, she stopped by the training shed, where all the prep-kits were kept. She stuffed them in a cabinet. This was a problem to face another day. Silently, she scampered back to her room and locked the door behind her. She was to say nothing to nobody about this but the diary she held dear. It was stuffed under her mattress, wrapped in an old ragged towel, to conceal it from anyone who may enter her private quarters. Here, she documented the entire ordeal. Should she ever need it, it would always lay as a reminder to never accept gifts from strangers.