You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
'What? I was told to go here but I didn't quite expect this.' You take your seat on the cushion and feel yourself sink into it as the crone watches you make yourself comfortable. "I'm just a traveller that's all" There weren't many chances to share your story during your travels -- there wasn't really anyone to listen to you either. "I'm looking for something".
The old woman looks at you with a calm expression. "Do you think you'll be able to find it here?"
"You should already know the answer to that question" Your lock eyes with her. She studies your ashy brown pupils and laughs.
"It was only a simple inquiry, child" The woman hunches over and points at you. "I'm not as all-seeing as you think I am, so talk"
You take out your pouch and bring out a small piece of cloth with an emblem embroidered on the fabric. "This is the crest of the tribe I belonged to" You pause. "I left many moons ago. I ran away" 'I had it coming. It was either that or exile. I just couldn't wait to leave.'
"Why?" Not a single hint of curiosity filled her voice. It was as if she was simply interrogating you; as if she was gathering pieces to a puzzle.
"Because I made a promise" You stare at the cloth in your hand. The thread shimmers as the dim light bounces on its fibers. "There is a legend among my tribe that there exists a place where fields of gold stretch infinitely towards the horizon. That place, those fields, that's what I'm looking for"
"Surely there aren't any fields in this swampy town" The old lady chuckles as she stands up from her chair. She looks at you. "That place...it'll be impossible to reach. It doesn't exist" Her words sting. You wonder how she could say that. "You'll end up traveling up roads that lead to nowhere your entire life. Are you sure of what you're doing?"
'Of course I've considered that possibility. I've considered all of it' You begin to clench at the piece of cloth in your hand. The thread shimmers as the dim light bounces on its fibers. 'But, this world...It's just so vast...it has to exist! It has to be somewhere. I made a promise'
"I was born a traveller. It's in my blood" You let out a sigh as you let go of the fabric. "I'll be fine".
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