Run Away Scarf
Sorcha left the little tea shop after Kyron. He had already entered the bustling market square, weaving through the crowd with effortless grace. Sorcha tried to follow, but she couldn’t navigate the crowd as smoothly. Before long, she lost sight of him. By the time she managed to push through, he was gone.
She sighed, lingering for a moment, her thoughts still on him. But a merchant’s voice quickly broke her reverie, shouting above the noise for help. A child had darted off, clutching a silk scarf stolen from the stall.
“Another day in Meadowrun,” Sorcha muttered to herself as she sprinted after the boy. He weaved through the streets like a seasoned thief. His small size giving him an advantage. Sorcha chased him around corners, down narrow alleys, and through busy lanes. For a kid, he wasfast. Finally, she turned onto a quieter street at the town’s edge, panting. The child had vanished. Instead, she found herself standing at the outskirts of Meadowrun, where vibrant flower gardens stretched out before her. The fields were a tapestry of color, alive with the sweet fragrance of late blooms.
She took a moment to appreciate the view, the heady scent reminding her that these were likely the last flowers of the season before winter’s frost claimed them. A strange pull urged her forward, to walk along the carefully laid stone paths. Her runes tingled beneath her clothes, a soft, almost imperceptible warmth. She followed the sensation until the vibrant beauty of the gardens began to fade. The air grew heavier and a volatile stench hit her nose. Her steps faltered as she reached the brook at the far edge of the field. She heard scurrying feet and paused for a moment.
In the field, two white rabbits with glowing gold eyes stared back at her. Her thoughts rushed back to the forest. It was here again. They leapt toward the flowers.Wilting bright petals curling and browning. The trees along the brook were withering as well. Their bark split and oozed black sludge that pooled in foul smelling puddles. It reminded her of the decay they had found in the forest earlier that week. The rabbits watched her as they scurried toward the brook and paused. Their bodies unnaturally still. One thumped the ground with its foot hard. The other only stared at her before tilting its head toward the water, its gaze shifting. Sorcha followed its eyes to the brook. The brook seemed ordinary enough, its surface smooth and reflecting the dull light above. But at the bottom, an odd darkness swelled, slow and curling like ink dissolving in water. The harder she tried to make out the blur, the more it blurred, slipping from her grasp as if resisting her stare. She turned back to see that the rabbits were still staring, frozen mid motion as if caught in time. After a lingering moment, they bolted. Bounding across the brook in a flurry of panicked movement before disappearing into the woods beyond. A shiver crawled up Sorcha’s spine. She narrowed her eyes, scanning the tree line, and that’s when she saw it.
A shadow, shifting between the trees. It moved as if it belonged to the forest, slipping between the trunks, its form barely solid.
The moment its eyes met hers, her runes flared, heat pulsing across her skin, sharp enough to sting. The markings built into a slow burn, spreading up her arms, curling around her ribs. Its figure shifted as the shadows swallowed it whole. As it disappeared, the pressure in the air lifted. The world snapped back into motion as if unseen hands had loosened their grip as the trees whispered with the wind once more. She stood still as fear and anger clawed their way up her throat. She didn’t understand what was happening, and the urge to scream into the ether and curse the gods was unstoppable. Her head ripped back as the anger, frustration and exhaustion clawed free. Her scream filled the air, startling the crows, caws screeching as they took to the sky. She screamed until the air left her lungs. Her throat was raw and ached, but she felt a little lighter. Her fists began to uncurl as she drew in a slow breath before reaching for her journal. She began to write.
She documented everything—the appearance of the decay, the foul stench that clung to the air, the eerie stillness that had settled over the land. Every detail she could because getting lost in work was better than trying to piece together whatever was happening to her. She wrote and sketched until her hands ached. That’s when she decided it was time to turn back towards town.
By the time she returned to Meadowrun’s square, the sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. She approached the merchant whose scarf had been stolen. She felt guilty as she admitted she had lost the child and the scarf. Without hesitation, she reached into her own coin pouch and offered compensation on behalf of the Circle. The merchant hesitated for a long breath before taking the money; her withered fingers curled around the coins with a slow nod.
“A shame,” the merchant murmured, tucking the coins into her apron. She wore a smile that didn’t quite match her eyes. The emptiness in her stare was cold and harsh. Sorcha leaned in a little closer to her as she looked atthe odd black liquid oozing from her ear. “But you tried,” she whispered as she held Sorcha’s stare. Eventually, Sorcha forced a smile. The woman didn’t press the matter further, sparing her from the headache of paperwork and a reprimand she wasn’t in the mood to endure. But she took back out her journal to make a note of the black liquid coming from women before strolling through the market square.
She decided a quick bite to eat might help ease the unsettling feeling in her stomach as she passed a merchant selling fresh berries and dried salmon. Exchanging coin for her meal, she sat in the shadow of the stables. Sorcha fiddled with her charcoal pencil, unable to shake the thought of the old woman, so she drew her with her teeth sunk into salmon jerky. The salty brine and sweet smoked cherry paired perfectly with the raspberries. Crouched in the corner, jerky hanging from her mouth and hands stained with coal, she finished the last details in her drawing before shoving it back into her pack. Wiping her hands on her pants, she fed the last of her berries to Shadow before theyrode back. As she mounted Shadow, she stole one last glance at the lively town before turning toward the road, townsfolk waving as she passed. The sounds of laughter and conversation faded behind her, replaced by the rising whistle of the wind as she neared the wooded path ahead. Nothing seemed out of place, yet she could swear she heard her name. It wasn’t just the wind. The woods were whispering to her. A strange pull tightened around her like an invisible thread tethering her to something just beyond reach. Pressing forward, a creeping unease gripped her. Her hands trembled slightly as she tightened her hold on the reins, eyes locked on the trees long after Meadowrun had disappeared from view.
When the distant rumbling of the falls reached her ears did relief finally break through. The sight of Lumora ahead felt like a beacon. When she arrived at the outpost, she found Riona throwing daggers at a makeshift target, each blade hitting its mark with effortless precision. The thud of steel against wood echoed through the quiet earlyevening air. Sorcha leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed. A smirk tugging at her lips as she watched.
Riona finished her practice and turned, wiping sweat from her brow. She caught sight of Sorcha’s smirk and raised an eyebrow.
“What’s that look for? Lose another thief?”
“It only happened twice,” Sorcha replied, stepping forward, tilting her head slightly as she walked, hands behind her back. “But… yes. I spent a lovely afternoon chasing a child halfway to the next town. Didn’t catch him, though.” She let out a long sigh.
“Impressive,” Riona said dryly. “What’s next? Letting squirrels rob the fruit stalls?”
“Careful,” Sorcha teased. “I might just leave you to patrol alone next time.”
Riona rolled her eyes, grabbing her water flask. “Fine, but at least I’m not chasing children and losing them.”
“Touché,” Sorcha admitted with a laugh, now talking with her arms moving around wildly. “But in mydefense, the kid was fast. Besides, it’s not like Meadowrun is brimming with excitement.”
Riona snorted. “Well, at least you made it back in one piece. Anything else happen?”
“Not much,” Sorcha said, her tone shifting, arms dropping to her sides. “Just found some more of that decay near the brook. It’s spreading.”
Riona’s expression turned serious. “You think it’s connected to the woods?”
“Probably,” Sorcha replied, but she really wanted to say was, yes, it’s all connected, that she could sense it. “I’ll report it to Nethran, but, honestly, I don’t know what to make of it.” Sorcha felt guilt again for not being completely honest with Riona, but what if she was wrong?
“Anyway, enough about that. The festival’s coming up, and I need a new dress. You’re coming with me to shop, right?”
Riona groaned, tossing a dagger into the dirt. “Do I have to? You know I hate shopping.”
“Yes, you have to,” Sorcha insisted smiling and now tugging on Riona’s arm. “You always look amazing, and I need your help.”
Riona smirked, pulling her arm from Sorcha and crossing them. “Fine. But if my dress outshines yours, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Deal,” Sorcha said, grinning. “Now, let’s get out of here before we end up stuck on an overnight shift.”
As the next patrol arrived to relieve them, Sorcha and Riona walked off together, their laughter ringing out against the quiet evening sky.
