Corabeth did as she was told and took the rough fabric of Rooke’s cloak between her two fingers. Then they started walking.
The fog grew thicker with every step, becoming almost suffocating. The moisture clung to Corabeth’s skin and hair as she felt the pull of Rooke’s cloak ahead of her. Swiftly, the world became nothing but the white of the fog and the black of Rooke. The only thing that told Corabeth they were still in the forest was the crunch of dead leaves beneath their feet.
Just as suddenly, the fog started to thin out again, and trees became visible. A short distance away, Corabeth saw a road and the beginnings of a town.
“How…” Corabeth gasped, looking behind her. She saw nothing but a forest swimming in a light mist. The closest town must have been at least five leagues away. Somehow, they crossed that distance in mere seconds.
“This is my forest, my fog,” Rooke said, reaching into his cloak. He pulled out a heavy pouch.
“Here,” he said, and deposited it into Corabeth’s open palm. “I don’t know what money’s worth these days, but I assume gold and silver are still accepted.”
Corabeth felt the heaviness of the pouch and balked. “That’s too much, I’ll get robbed blind,” she said and fished out some coins. Then she handed the rest of the pouch back to Rooke.
“You’ll wait for me here?” Corabeth asked expectantly. A fear had started to grow deep inside her that she didn’t wish to look at too closely.
“Yes,” promised Rooke with a nod.
Corabeth took a few steps towards the town before she turned around again.
“We’re almost finished with the book,” she called to Rooke. “Will you read the final chapters to me tonight?”
Again, Rooke nodded.
Corabeth forced herself to start walking again, stopped herself from turning around. She felt Rooke’s eyes on her all the way to town.
Despite the cold, a vibrant market was erected in the town square, and Corabeth picked through it, getting whatever she deemed necessary for herself. Fresh baked goods, preserves, eggs, and finally a few books. She figured if Rooke had indeed been stuck in his house with the same books, he would appreciate them as well.
The town’s people glanced at the newcomer, some whispered, most openly stared. A few of the vendors tried to inquire about her, the shoppers drawing closer to hear the answers as well, but Corabeth gave roundabout answers.
“What are you here for?”
“Oh, you know, this and that.”
“Where do you come from?”
“Just outside town.”
“Are you new here?”
“Yes, quite.”
After asking around, Corabeth was given directions to a farmer at the edge of town who might sell her an animal, and she set off, leaving the gossiping people behind her.
The farmer, a man of many years and few words, considered Corabeth from behind his bushy eyebrows.
“What does a fine lady like yourself need a hog for?” he asked and took another bite out of the raw carrot he was chewing on. Corabeth almost laughed at being called “a fine lady.”
“My business is my own. Name your price and ask extra if it means you ask no questions,” she said, holding her head high.
The farmer sat silently for a long while, his long, gray beard moving as he chewed.
“Twenty silver,” he finally said.
Corabeth knew exactly how much he overcharged, but she made no complaints, simply dropped the coins into the farmer’s hand. He looked at them with some astonishment, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to pay such a ridiculous sum for a hog.
Then he put the coins in his pocket, stood with a quiet groan, and disappeared behind his house. When he returned, a well-fed hog walked beside him on a piece of rope, its ears flopping as it trotted along.
The farmer handed the rope wordlessly to Corabeth and went back to sitting in his previous spot. He took a fresh carrot from his pocket and bit into it.
