Page 19 of A Fable of Riddles and Redemption

“If you’re looking for coin, I’m sure our strong, brave guard has some.”

“What? Zorina—” he protested.

The red panda tilted her head as if intrigued. Could the little creature understand human speech? It often seemed like she did.

Then, Anala bolted toward Herrick and grabbed a pouch off of his belt.

“Hey,” he cried as the red panda ran off with his purse. “That’s mine!” He chased after her, but she opened the drawstring and stuck her nose into the opening—and then crawled inside the pouch, disappearing from sight.

Zorina’s eyes bulged. “What in the Realms?” She ran over to the bag and picked it up before peering inside.

Herrick snagged it out of her grip and reached into the bag, his arm going in up to his elbow. It was a small pouch—far too small for that much of his arm to logically fit inside.

Not to mention that the four inch sack was too small for an entire red panda to be in it!

Zorina gaped as Herrick fished his arm around in the pouch, clearly trying to fetch something. At last, he dragged Anala out by the scruff of her neck, much like how a mother cat would carry her kitten. “Stay out of there, you little pest,” he grumbled as he held the red panda up to his eye level to meet his furious gaze. “I mean it. Stay. Out.”

Anala whimpered, and Herrick unceremoniously carried her out the door and dropped her on the ground. Then, before she could dash back inside the shop, he shut the door.

Zorina stared at him, her eyes wide. “That’s a magical pouch, isn’t it?”

He merely shrugged and huffed in response, though he did not meet her eyes.

Hands on her hips, she rounded on him, asking him the same kind of annoying questions he had repeatedly asked her. “You come in here accusing me of magic and berating me for not answering your very invasive questions, and all this time you’re carting around a magical item? Do you not see the hypocrisy in that? Maybe you can do magic and have the skills required to make a barrier to keep the red pandas away from the city!”

“I don’t,” Herrick said with a frown.

“I don’t believe you. If you’re carrying around an item like that, who’s to say you didn’t make it yourself?”

By the flat expression on his too-handsome face, he was not happy that the tables had turned. Good. “I didn’t.”

“Then where’d you get it? Did you steal it?”

His frown deepened into a scowl. “Of course not. It was a gift.”

“Oh, a gift, you say? From a mage? Perhaps the mage who gave it to you can help us, then. Have you reached out to them?”

A dark look flashed across his face, and for a moment, Zorina was afraid she’d pushed too far.

“No,” he growled, the single word more threatening than she’d expected. “That is not an option.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Herrick stepped right up to Zorina, looming over her. She had to tilt her head almost completely up to see his furious features. “It just isn’t.”

Fear washed over her. Was it from a dark magic user, then? Could his past be as tainted as hers?

Or was it still part of him?

Did it haunt him, as hers did, or did he embrace it?

Shuddering, she took a few steps back—and almost knocked into a shelf of pottery behind her.

Herrick blinked twice, the action clearing the darkness from his expression. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her toward him to keep her from toppling into the pots and vases that were at risk from her erratic movements.

Unfortunately for Zorina, he’d overestimated the strength required, and her head crashed into his armored chest with a jolt. It hurt, which only sparked her anger.

“Don’t touch me,” she spat, breaking free of his hold and darting behind the counter.