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.”
"Oh, I um.." Hab nervously fiddles with his handkerchief while taking a seat. "Okay, I'll tell you." Thus Hab tells his tale,
"I have always wanted to create my restaurant, but my home town was much too small for anything like that. My mother always praised my cooking as I learned more and matured." Hab catches himself becoming lost in thought as he stares at the floating candles, lighting this tent he finds himself in. Hab thinks of his mother and the home he left. Hab continues, "Since my mother died last year, my home no longer felt like a home. So I decided to venture out. See new lands. Maybe find someplace to open up the restaurant I always wanted. My mom would have liked that." Hab straightens his back. Feeling a bit more confident of his goal. Hab asks the old hag, "So ma'am, would you know of any towns near by?"
