Southeast Breeland, over a decade ago
Tears stained the page of a worn journal, though its crinkled pages held little in the way of writing. The tall young woman that sat hunched over it could have seemed totally oblivious to the world around her but for the occasional keen glances around at fairly regular intervals.
With one of these, she met the eyes of the older gentleman who led this small band of merchants she found herself with. His fatherly smile gave her reassurance and she returned her focus to the page.
Deer Dear C.,
I know I’m never going to send ye this letter but I wish I could.
I found sum some new friends. They are nice to me. Fancy merchant folk, they are, and maybe I’ll find advintor adventoor adventure with them like all the things ye do!
“Evening, sir!” Arlane stuck her hand out to greet the grizzled merchant, who eyed her with a mix of skepticism and amusement.
He raised an eyebrow as he gave her a glance-over, taking in her rather ragged travelling clothes. “What can I help ya with?”
“I’m lookin’ for a job, I’m good at sellin’ an’ strong an’ all. Come on th’ recommendation of… uh… of th’ adventurer and mapmaker of Bree.”
It wasn’t exactly true… but she had been given permission to use the name, even if it wasn’t by the mapmaker himself. So it wasn’t really a lie…
The older man crossed his arms and looked at her, not convinced. He opened his mouth to speak, probably to send her away, but at that moment her stomach decided to gurgle very loudly. His face softened.
“Come on, girl, my sister’s cooking at the merchant camp. Let’s get some food in ya and we can talk. Name’s Greyson.”
We’re headed way east soon. Towards the mountains, that is. Maybe I’ll see those forests ye told stories about...
Keep safe in Bree and thank ye for keeping the flowers on my mum’s grave.
I miss ye.
Your friend,
Arlane (well… ‘Lane’ now. Sounds a bit like your fancy story names, don’t it?)
She closed the notebook with a smile and wiped her eyes before more tears could form. Grey’s sister Mel — a sweet older woman and a surrogate mom to all the merchants whether they wanted it or not — rang the small bell for dinner. The smell of rich soup filled the air as the merchants all gathered to eat and gab.
Lane tucked her notebook securely back in her cloak’s inner pocket then rose to join them.
