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.” ((How do you respond?)) The candles caught her attention first, eyes flicking from dancing flame to flame before the voice of the old woman snaps her out of her day dream. She flinched and ducked her head while taking the offered seat on the cushion, her hands clasped tightly in her lap while she tried to make herself seem smaller. "Me, ma'am? I cannot understand why..." Her demure voice did not carry far, but the prompting had her sigh in reluctance. "I..."
There was clear hesitation in her eyes and she slowly spun a thin gold band on her ring finger. "It was not always like this. I was not always like this. My parents had passed when I was young, but the orphanage that took me in was not a bad one. I made friends, the teachers there were lovely. Everything changed when I was older, and I had first fallen in love. ... But that is not entirely true." A sad smile tugged at her mouth and she looked down at her lap. "I fell for a wolf in sheep's wool, and I pay the price for it. While this is not ideal, he will not think to look for me this far out. ... At least, I pray he won't..."
"Freedom, I am told... is nothing but the distance between the hunter and its prey."
