How about a high fantasy fic! The Princess has been kidnapped by an evil sorceress! In an act of desperation the King and Queen put out a call saying that any brave hero who can rescue their daughter will be granted her hand in marriage! Though they didn’t expect said hero to turn out to be a little Goblin woman! The Princess certainly doesn’t seem to mind at all
@@@
Dear Diary,
Okay so I know the last entry was super-sad. I was just in a rut-but guess what? I finally caught a break! I might not even have to work for my dad anymore!
So King Rollo and Queen Anne-remember them?-their daughter got kidnapped. Like they do. I swear, there’s a cottage industry on human trafficking around here. You think after the fifth time someone would decree a law or something. ANYWAYS, their girl got “got”. Something that should have been remedied with gold. Except no.
The person that grabbed her? Well, remember when I told you about that one witch? The one that lived like, wayyyyyy deep in the swamp? Yeah, her. She isn’t one to negotiate apparently. No one was really stepping up to volunteer either. So they put out this HUGE reward, and well-I put my name out there.
And they picked ME! Can you believe it? Gods, my father told me I was insane for going into adventuring. “DURR, you should just stay a banker Haley, DURRHURRDURR, it’s a steady life Haley, where’s my grandchildren?”
Jokes on you, old man! Haley Grunkstilts isn’t gonna be a smelly banker! HAH! I’m gonna save the princess, and I’m gonna be RICH!
– H
@@@
Dear Diary,
Okay, so uh. Maybe I got a little ahead of myself.
Just a little bit though, I swear! But well-ugh. It’s always just “a little bit”.
It’s not like I don’t have the same heart as everyone. Or the same will. I can fight just as well as anyone, but like.
LOOK, I know I said I wasn’t going to let my height get to me. I KNOW I said that I shouldn’t let it hold me back. That’s not it. It’s more-I need a helper. An assistant. Someone who can reach up on my donkey without needing a stool. That’s all! And besides, if I split a fortune with ONE person, I’m still technically rich. Half of insanely wealthy is-um, wealthy. Or insane. Either or, it’s at least DIFFERENT from how I am now. It’s has to be better, right?
I mean.
I hope.
I’m…I’m so tired of being the butt of jokes. I’m tired of people stepping on me, and not even saying they’re sorry. I matter too, dang it! I’m a person! Just because I’m short and green doesn’t mean I’m any less! So WHAT if I can only use a short sword? It’s still a sword! I can raise it just as well as these other berks can raise theirs!
You’re…
Really the only one that knows that.
I tried, though. I tried REALLY hard to get some help. I went to the tavern, got up on a stool and everything. I shouted as loud as I could, right over the piano in the corner. I told them who I was, and what I was doing. When I was done? People just…turned back to their drinks, their conversations. The piano went on playing, and the low roar of muffled talk drowned me. I sank back to the stool. I didn’t cry-really, I didn’t. I clenched my jaw, and held it back the best I could.
The barkeep-this old grizzled guy, with a beard and a huge gut-he slid a tankard towards me. I smiled, and tried to tell him I couldn’t pay. He waved his hand and said “Nope-on the house, miss,” and leaned forward.
“You serious?” he said, “You mean it? You’re gonna go after the Vitch?”
“The Vitch? Don’t you mean Witch?” I said. I wrapped both hands around my drink. I tried not to spill it as I raised a brow at him. The barkeep, his smile softened just a bit. She shook his head, which made his jowls quiver.
“No-the vitch, with a V. She’s not no bog crone, Miss. She’s a fair sight more than that. You’ve heard the stories, I take it?” he said.
I slurped my tankard, and gave a nod. “Something something crows and she’s immortal, or something like that?”
“Something like that,” said the barkeep grimly. He stepped away for a moment, and tended to another patron. When he came back, he took a deep breath. “Point is-and I’m not trying to tell you that you shant-she’s more than one wee lass could take. No offense miss,”
I didn’t say anything.
The Barkeep’s mouth became a thin line. He eyed the bar a long moment, then gave a scoff. “ ‘Sides, none of these jarheads would be of much use. They’d just git ye’ killed, and themselves. Whatcha want if yer fighting a mage-is another mage. Savvy?”
I watched him, and kept slurping my beer. He leaned closer still, and dropped his voice even more.
“I know a berk that might help. But he-well. It’s up to him if he DOES. He’s a bit of a curmudgeon-and that’s putting it lightly. Interested?”
“And just how do you know random mages?” I asked as I set my tankard down, empty. The barkeep took it, and refilled it at once. He laid it on the counter, and pushed it towards me with a smirk.
“Even wizards want a drink now and again,”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Well, tell me about him then,”
So he did. By the time he was done-both giving me directions to find the guy, and more about him-I wasn’t so sure. I mean, the guy lives in MURKWOOD. On the OTHER SIDE OF THE MAP. That’s AT LEAST a few days away, and who knows WHAT that creepy witch/vitch lady is going to do with the princess.
Plus what if I just showed up, and the guy is like “nah, not today, I’m tired?”
What then?
Maybe it’s the beer talking. Maybe it’s the fact I really don’t have many-uh, “professional connections”.
But.
Hells.
I set off for Murkwood in the morning, I guess. It would be better to have a partner, even if they’re an asshole. And if this witch lady is really that bad?
I kinda don’t want to get roasted alive.
Maybe this wizard can keep that from happening. I’d like that.
– H
@@@
Dear Diary,
Oh my GODS he smells.
Okay, so I don’t smell so fresh either. We’ve been hiking for a few days. No real water around to drink, much less bathe in. But at least he could have washed the blood off. Just-ew. Ew ew ew.
Oh, right. The blood. Let me backup a bit.
So I set off for Murkwood like I planned. Dad really wasn’t happy about it, but he gave me some coin. He wagged his warty finger and said “go sow your oats, and be done”. Like this was some phase or something. UGH. I took what he gave me though, and got some supplies. I had my sword oiled and sharpened at the smith. I laid in my bed, and tried so hard to sleep. I couldn’t-I was just a bundle of energy, you know? I mean, MURKWOOD! Like, ew, but MURKWOOD! Somewhere away from the city, from the bank! I passed out, and almost pounced out the door when the sun rose.
The road was-okay, so the trip was SUPER boring. I kept on expecting some bandits or kobolds or SOMETHING! But with the main road leading STRAIGHT there from town? With it being regularly patrolled and everything? It was so disappointing. I mean, I wasn’t asking for danger, but c’mon! A little sword play, a few pitfalls. Something to at LEAST make this exciting, you know? I made it to Murkwood unharmed, and tramped off into the marsh. As soon as I stepped foot off the path, it sank into mud. Right up to my ankles. I groaned, and remembered that I left my “business boots” back at the house. Easily a few days away.
But.
This is what I signed up for. Mud, bugs and all . So I winced, tried to ignore the squelch in my boots, and kept on marching.
The barkeep hadn’t been precise about where this guy lived. He said to “trek to the right until the sky was dark”. Gee, thanks buddy. That’s just as good as a landmark. But I marched all the same-and I’ll be darned if I didn’t see a shack, right at sunset. It was a hovel really. Made from fallen timbers, with the roof haphazardly thatched. There wasn’t even a door-just a rough cut hole in one of the walls.
There was a fire right outside though. After all that mucking I was kinda chilly. So I figured I would settle by the fire, and wait. The guy-the wizard, rabid hobo, whatever-he couldn’t be far off. So I drew a little closer, rubbed my hands together, and settled in.
For a minute, anyways. Right about the time I started to feel my feet again, I heard a branch snap. I turned around, sword in my hand. My heart was pumping as I peered into the woods-but all was dark. The sun had finally decided to set. The fire’s light only went so far. I huddled a bit closer, and turned my head.
I almost screamed. Okay, so I did. But it wasn’t one of those howling yelps, I swear.
Across me, past the flames, say this lanky, filthy guy. He looked a little older than me. Wearing just his breeches, I thought his chest was covered in mud. Until it moved. That mud, it wasn’t that at all.
It was ink.
He held his hands out to the fire, and I watched as ink swirled across his chest. Forming symbols, forming pictures. A wolf on his arm became two birds. The birds flew down, and turned into a bear on his chest. which All the while, he just sat there. Warming his hands, his bright green eyes never abating. When he didn’t speak or so much as react to my scream, I felt my shoulders ease. I sat there in silence for a long while, just staring at him.
I finally cleared my throat. I spoke, and tried to make my voice sound gruff and tough. Like a proper adventurer, you know? But the words just sounded creaky and strained instead. Like a kid pretending.
“Are you the magus of Murkwood?”
He grunted, and shrugged. “If I’m not, you’ve come a long way for disappointment. The question is better aimed at you,”
He lifted his eyes, and fixed them on me. They pierced right into my own, and didn’t break a single degree. Having him look at me like that, unmoving? It made my skin crawl. Those eyes, it’s like they were indexing my entire life. I felt my breath come quick-and then he broke away. He stood up, and walked from the fire’s light.
“Hey! Hey, where are you going? Come back!” I cried.
Then I made a mistake. Well, it wasn’t really a mistake-I couldn’t help it. It’s just one of those things you DO, you know? But it felt like one. A mistake, I mean.
I blinked.
When I opened my eyes again, the stranger was back in the light. There was a scaffold before him, with a boar hooked by the legs to it. My eyes trailed along it-and as I reached the snout, I saw blood drip from it.
Then it swayed as the stranger shoved a knife into it.
It’s not like I didn’t know where my meat came from. I knew animals had to be processed-but growing up a banker’s daughter? It was just something I hadn’t SEEN, you know? By the time it made it to my plate, it was cut up all nice and thin and seasoned. But standing there, watching the stranger flay the skin from the boar, I…
Okay, so I didn’t throw up.
Just like didn’t scream.
Either way, I turned my head. I cinched my eyes shut, and tried to tune out the wet smacking sounds as he cut.
“You hungry?” the stranger said. I heard the sizzle of meat, the smell filling my nose. I tried to shake my head-but my stomach growled. Inch by inch, I turned to face the fire. I opened one eye-then the other.
The meat, it was already cooked. The boar was nowhere to be seen. And the stranger sat there, huge slabs of pork on a plate before him. I blinked again-and caught him lowering his hand. He extended it with another plate, just like his.
I sat there, mind reeling from what had just happened. I lifted my hand, and took the plate. I sat it in my lap, and gave it a big whiff.
It certainly smelled like pork. It looked like pork. But I held back from shoving all of it into my mouth just yet.
“So. The witch and the princess, eh?”
I shook my head, and looked back up at him. The ink on his body, it had shifted again. A girl in a conical hat became a castle, which turned and twisted into a woman with her face hidden. She lifted her hands-and burst into a flock of crows that dissipated over his heart. The stranger, lifting a cut of pork to his mouth with his hand, jerked his head as he took a bite. The crows were gone. His chest was bare. He looked at me again-and I lowered my face to my plate.
It smelled so, so good. So I did something stupid. I lifted a piece, and took a bite.
It tasted like pork, too. I chewed, the sound loud in my ears as my stomach gurgled with satisfaction.
“How did you know?” I said. I chanced a look back at him-only to find his plate gone. Grease dripped from fingers that clenched a pipe. He shrugged-and the ink appeared again. It was a cat, one that gave a yawn as it curled into a ball on his stomach.
“Entrails,” he said. Smoke plume from his nose as his eyes settled on the fire.
“Uh, excuse me?”
“Entrails. From our dinner. That, and it’s always some princess, innit? Some lass or lad stuck in a castle somewhere. All over land, power, money. It’s a fucking lark. All of it,”
He leaned forward, and tapped his pipe over the fire. When he stood, the flames extinguished right away. My heart began to pound, my mouth mid-bite into some pork. I mean, I was in the woods. Alone. With a REALLY strange guy, and-
At that moment, a warm glow came from the shack. Orange and yellow, flickering like so many flames. A dark shape appeared in the rough cut door, more shadow than man. It leaned against the doorway, and I watched as the shadow crossed it’s arms.
Given all that happened, I figured it could be anything. Maybe I had blinked again, maybe I hadn’t.
But then it spoke.
“Well, come in then,” he said.
I sat my plate to the side, and started to rise. Then I wondered just where I’d placed my sword. It was strapped across the top of my pack-within reach, right by the fire. I saw the shape of it against the glow of the door, and almost reached for it.
I realized just how pointless that actually was. I looked back up, at the dark shape in the glowing light.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I said.
There came a loose, dry laugh. It sounded like leaves blown in the fall, or bones clattering against one another.
“You didn’t answer it yourself. Are YOU the magus of Murkwood?” said the shadow.
“No,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “No I’m not. But you’ve got to be, right?”
The shadow shrugged, and splayed it’s arms wide.
“Sometimes I am, sometimes I’m not. Sometimes that’s what people call me, sometimes it’s another. I remember it one way, then others. I’m here, I’m there. I’m whatever you need me to be. Do you need a magus, miss?”
“I-” I started, swallowing what felt like a ball of cotton, “-I’m not really sure. But it could help,”
“Well, you’ve fine company then. I’ve no idea what the hell I need either-but I’m sure your king could think of something. Come in, then. Let’s get this business sorted out,” said the shadow. It stepped from the doorway, into the inner light. It disappeared within it, seemingly swallowed by the flame.
Diary?
What else was I SUPPOSED to do?
I walked in.
I talked to him, and I struck a deal.
Looking back at that night, I can’t remember much. Especially after I entered the shack. Oh! It wasn’t really a shack by the way. I’m not sure WHAT it was, or how he pulled it off. But it wasn’t a shack. Shacks don’t have twin staircases in them. All I know is, whatever I told him? It worked. The magus, he came with me. Knew exactly where we needed to go, too. We set off that night, took off right into the dark without so much as a pause. I didn’t feel tired all the sudden.
But the magus? He didn’t bathe. Not after all the mucking, the butchering. He’s still walking with the stains of it all on him, that ink of his shifting with every step.
I…
I really hope I didn’t make the wrong choice.
-H
@@@
Dear Diary,
So, uh.
It happened.
We rescued the princess.
It wasn’t quite the expedition I’d hoped for. I mean, in a lot of ways it totally was? The witch, she lived in this old abandoned tower, right? Real ragged affair. There were bricks missing. There was a hole in the roof. The path leading up was cobblestone, wet and slick. For as muddy as Murkwood was, I barely noticed the mud oozing beneath the stones.
I felt tense walking up to the tower. My spine coiled up like a spring. I’d reached for my sword, my hand choking it’s grip. The magus, when he saw that, he just laughed. We drew close, and I took a deep breath.
“S-so uh, how are we going to do this? Do we scale the tower, or-”
“We knock at the door and politely ask if we can come in,” said the Magus.
I stopped in my tracks, and looked at him. “We knock? Like we’re traveling merchants?”
“Yes,” he said, his pace unceasing.
“But-but she’ll know we’re here!” I cried back.
The magus paused, and I watched as the ink on his filthy back formed a giant eye. It split apart, and formed into hundreds. All gazing towards me, unblinking and far too real for what they were.
“She already does. And we’re in one piece, aren’t we?”
I didn’t respond. The magus started walking again, and I fell in step behind him. We’d arrived close to dark, just as I had with him. As the tower blotted out the moon, I felt my skin began to crawl. The witch didn’t have torches, nor lights. So I had only his footsteps to guide me, the squelch and thud of another person.
We arrived at the front door, and before I could speak the magus wrapped against it. My breath was tight in my throat. Every nerve fired off as we stood there, and waited.
The magus knocked again, and a tired voice yelled from within.
“I’m coming, I’m coming! Gods damn it, do you know what hour it is? Jocques? Is that you again?”
“Aye, if that’s who you need me to be,” replied the magus, “And I’ve brought some company. I do hope that’s alright,”
The wooden doors before us-so massive and aged they seemed a part of the wall itself-swung inwards without a single noise. The light from within was blinding, revealing a grand hall that-like the shack-belied the outside. Standing before us was what I could only assume was the Vitch. Or was it the Witch? You know, I’m really not sure. I guess, after all that’s happened, it’s whatever she wants.
Whatever she needed it to be.
But what I can tell you with certainty, dear diary, is that she absolutely wasn’t what I was expecting.
Standing before me was a woman not much taller than myself. For all the rumors of her age, she didn’t look much older than either of us. She held a fluffy black gown against her frame, with long black hair loose around her shoulders. Her skin was pale, and her blue eyes smoldered as they flicked between the magus and I. She gave a snort, and shook her head as she turned around.
“Well, bloody well come in, not like I can turn either of you away. Make yourselves at home,”
“Don’t I always?” said the Magus as he stepped forward. His bare, filthy feet slapped against the stone-and the witch snapped her head around.
“Jocques! What in the nine hells?! Wipe your feet, man! Wear some shoes!” she shouted.
The magus just snorted-and I blinked. I gasped as my eyes open, and the Magus stood before me. Fully dressed in an emerald overcoat, his feet shod in high boots. His hands were tucked into deep pockets at his side, and he lifted his shoulders as he smiled.
“Better, m’lady?” he said.
The witch rolled her eyes, and looked down towards me. “And you, miss. I hope he’s been a gentleman to you. Jocques can be so damned crude at times,”
“Nah, he uh-he’s been good,” I said, still a foot past the door.
The witch smiled, and beckoned with her finger.
“You too-no need to stay out in the dark. I take it you’re here about Cassandra?” she said, her brow arching.
I swallowed, and gave a nod as I stepped inside. “Yes, her parents were wanting her back. And uh-I’ve come to collect her. The magus and I,”
“Jocques,” she said with a smirk. She cut her eyes towards him-laughing to herself as he walked past. “You can call him by his name. He hates when people do that,”
“Except for you?” I said.
“Except for me,” she said, her grin widening. “Well, I can certainly admire you making the journey here. But I’d like to say, quite frankly, that Cassandra is a guest here. Regardless of what you heard? There was no ‘kidnapping’ involved. She came to me, miss…?”
“Haley. Haley Grunkstilts,” I answered, my eyes widening as I took in the hall. Like the Magus’-er, Jocques?-shack, it was so much larger than it looked. Dark wood and carpeting clung to every corner, with massive paintings along every-
“Is that your true name, dear?” said the witch, suddenly at my side. She had stooped to meet my eyes, her gaze wide. I stood there, my heart seizing as I looked at her.
“I, uh-”
“Don’t answer that,” came Jocques, seated at the foot of the stairs.
The witch turned to him, her brow narrowing as her lips pursed. “Oh, you’re no fun,” she said. She stood with a sigh, and tilted her head towards the stairs.
“Well, come along. We’ll wake the girl, and you can speak to her yourself. Fair enough?”
My grip eased at my sword for the first time. It fell slack at my side, and I nodded. “I guess so,” I said.
The both of us walked forward, and met Jocques at the steps. We climbed the stairs, and the witch chatted with Jocques in a tone so low I couldn’t hear them. We turned left at the top, and walked down a massive hallway. When we approached the end, the witch paused as her hand met a dark, oaken door. She took a deep breath, and pressed it inward.
Laying across a massive bed, piled high with pillows and silken blankets, sat the princess. At least, I guessed she was. She didn’t look like royalty. Her mouth was slack, and the snore that peeled from her was loud enough to wake the dead. The witch approached her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open, and she rose with a wipe of her hand at her mouth. She smiled as she saw the witch-one that dropped as soon as she saw us.
“Oh, oh gods no, my father sent you didn’t he?”
I swallowed hard, and waved. I gave a giggle then, a nervous thing that bubbled up from my stomach. “Uh, no. Just me. I uh, I grabbed him for back up,”
Jocques snorted, his eyes upon the princess. The girl rolled her eyes, and shook her head.
“I’m not coming back with you. I’m not going to mary that damned toad, just because Father wants me to,”
My lips wavered a minute, my mind racing to find the right words. “Uh, well I’m sure the prince is a real-”
“No,” she said, her voice firm. “He’s not. He’s a literal toad that I have to kiss. And I’m not doing that-because it’s bloody disgusting,”
“Oh,” I replied. I coughed into my fist, and took a step forward.
It was then I became keenly aware of the eyes upon me. The Witch, Jocques, Cassandra. All seemed to pause as I stepped towards the center of the room. My stomach coiled, and I felt myself break into a sweat on my head.
Honestly, It was SO embarrassing. Like this is the point the hero is supposed to say something really cool and reassuring, you know? But what came out instead was…well, the truth, I guess.
“Listen Princess-”
“Cassandra. Please, for the love of the gods, call me by my name. I have a name, alright?” she said, her voice tinged by anger.
“Er, right. Cassandra. Listen, I know what it’s like having overbearing parents. My dad? He’s a banker, okay? And he totally thought I was going to take over the business, and like, ew. No. It’s the most boring thing in the entire world, and I am NOT going to do that. So-so if you don’t want to kiss this frog, or get married? Just do your own thing. Tell your dad what you want to do, and rule your way. Being a princess has gotta be a lot sweeter than being a banker, right?”
The girl snorted, and broke into a laugh. I felt my face tinge a deep green as she scratched at her head.
“You think I HAVEN’T done that? I have! Every single day! And being a princess bloody well sucks! Do you know how many dances I’ve had to learn? And my GODS, the music lessons. That’s before we get to how to properly serve tea, and-”
“Spare us,” said Jocques. He stepped forward, his shadow wide over the girl. As he crossed his arms, I watched as the Witch scooted closer to Cassandra. She raised an arm, and brought it around her as she stared deep into the magus.
Jocques stood there a long while, unblinking. His arms finally fell, and he said “Girl, it matters not what you’ve done. It matters not who you’re supposed to be. All that matters is being whom you need to be in the moment-and right now, I’m asking you who that girl is? Who does she need to be?”
Cassandra watched him, the arm of the witch easing away. She took a deep breath, and met his eyes.
“Free,” she said simply. “She needs to be free. I don’t care about being pampered-I hate it, actually. I just-want to make my own choices for once,”
Jocques nodded, and turned towards the witch.
“Yaga? Can you shelter the girl?”
The witch smiled, and gave a nod. Jocques returned it, and turned back towards me. He splayed his hands up, and gave a grin as he stepped towards the door.
“Well, our work here is done. C’mon then. I’m wanting something to munch upon,”
“Wait, so that’s it? Just like that?” I said, glancing at all three of them. “We’re just going to leave her here? With her?”
Jocques stopped, his form filling the doorway. He turned slowly, shadows drawn across his face despite the light.
I blinked, and he was before me. His coat had parted, and his bare chest filled my vision. The ink there swirled-and showed a frog. With a crown. As I gazed, the frog parted its’ jaw-and swallowed what looked like the sun. The ink spread and smeared, plunging the world into the dark. The magus let go of his coat, and the picture disappeared into green. As my nerves turned electric, I looked up at him.
His green eyes pierced, just as they did before.
“How long have you been adventuring?” he said, voice measured and calm.
I rolled my tongue along my lips, and gave a slight shake of my head. “This-this is the first time, really. I just-it felt like the right thing to do,”
Jocques nodded, and glanced over my shoulder. “Sometimes, in the field and current of our lives? What we plan for, it changes. You were supposed to be a banker. She, a princess. And look at you both now,”
His gaze returned to me, and held a long moment before he spoke.
“Do you want to go back to it? Being a banker?”
“N-no. Not at all,” I said. Jocques nodded, rising once more. He tucked his hands into his coat, and turned back towards the door.
“Well, seems as though you understand her perfectly then, don’t you?” he said. He walked past the door, and was gone. Even his foot falls fell quiet in the hall. I stood there staring at the hall until a hand met my shoulder. I looked up, only to see the witch-Yaga, apparently-smiling.
“Come on,” she said, “Let’s get you something to eat. He didn’t bring supplies, did he?”
So I followed her out into the hall. I walked with her down, and there in the witch’s keep we had dinner. When we got ready to leave, the witch came and gave me a hug. “You, little one? You come back any time. You’re always welcome here-so long as you don’t bring the king’s army,” she said.
Most of the time when people call me that? I prickle. But it felt so nice coming from her. So I smiled, lifted my arms, and hugged her back. She squeezed me tight, then pulled away as she turned to Jocques. Her smile dropped, and she wagged a finger at him.
“And you? Stop scare-mongering people all the time. And bathe for once. I know there’s a river beside that hovel,”
“I got clean for you, didn’t I?”
Yaga rolled her eyes, and jabbed her finger at his chest. “Doing it AFTER the fact doesn’t count. Next time you decide to pester me in the middle of the night? You change before you come in,”
She turned to me, and cut a sly smile. “He’s decent sometimes. I promise,”
I couldn’t help but smile as Jocques took a step behind her, and steadily shook his head.
After that, we left.
I’ve been on the road for a month now. I do odd jobs for people, mostly. Lots and LOTS of animal control (I HATE rats so, so much now). I write Cassandra sometimes. I don’t deliver any of them-but somehow, they always find their way to her. And the next morning, there’s a little crow waiting, a letter in its beak. She always writes how happy she is now.
Apparently, Yaga is teaching her some things? What exactly could a witch teach-wait. Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
I haven’t spoken with the Magus since-but I hear about him all the same. About this strange, tall, filthy man with ink in his skin. He was at a carnival in a town I was at. Then he was a holy man in another, ranting and raving in the streets. But the weirdest thing of it all, the real catch to it?
I heard he became an advisor to the king.
Arranged marriages? Yeah. Illegal now. And we’re at war with some kind of swamp kingdom? I haven’t really kept up with it. There are signs in some of the places I stop at, with all these gross pictures of beheaded frogs. Whatever. It doesn’t matter, I guess.
If I learned one thing in all of this, it’s that. These things you’re dragged into, either by your choice or other peoples? You can push back. You can say no, you can do it on your own. I haven’t written to my dad yet-and I don’t think I will. Because all that, it’s behind me now. Through miles of swamp, through tiny towns with too many rats.
And you know, that’s okay. Every time I think back to it, I put a few more miles behind me.
I smile every single step.