The Road to RecoveryMature

Victoria thought she could use her holy magic to persuade someone to open their door for her. She needed to find Harold some clothes and desperately wanted something to eat. Only she found that when she went to access her magic she was drained. Her exhaustion prevented her from using any of the holy magic.

Tears sprang into her eyes.

What chance would she have at finding Rowan if she had to stop and recover so often to revive her holy magic?

Angrily she wiped the tears away. She had no magic but she had a sword. She banged on the shop keep's cottage, which was painted in bright letters.

“We're closed!” A male voice rang out from behind the door.

“Well then open please. I have an emergency shop keep!

“My door is not red!” The voice yelled back from the other side of the door.

“Nay, but your walls will soon be red with your own blood if you don't open the door this instant!”

The door flung open to a wide eyed sleepy man who couldn't have been too much older than Victoria.

Victoria smiled politely and curtsied awkwardly with the sword. “Why thank you kind sir.”

The frightened man stared, bewildered, at Victoria and her sword. “Take what you want, and pl-lease leave me with peace.”

“Of course,” Victoria agreed. She found some trousers that looked to be about Harold's size and a white tunic. She thanked the man again and left his shop without begging for food. She felt she had caused him enough distress.

Victoria ran into Harold on a desolate path that led back to the doctor's. He gripped at his side, still wearing the torn clothing. It was likely that the bitter man had been kicked out of the Witch Doctor's cottage. “Let me guess he found you about as charming as I did?” She said, throwing Harold's clothes at him.

Harold caught the clothes. He ignored her insult and motioned for her to turn around so that he could change his clothes. After a minute Harold led them back into the forest.

“What are you doing?” Victoria demanded.

  • “We need to get out of this town, immediately.” Harold said without further explanation.

They took the most direct route that would lead them out of the forest. Victoria swung her Father's sword possessively at the thick brush that surrounded the opening. She quickened her pace, cutting in front of Harold.

“Why did you save my life?” Harold yelled after her as they trudged through an open field.

Victoria turned abruptly. “I desire nothing more than to find my daughter-”

“Our daughter,” Harold cut in.

“But your death comes awfully close in comparison. Though unlike you I have a conscience. I cannot watch a weak pathetic man crumble and die in front of me. It would have ruined my appetite and I haven't had a proper meal in days,” Victoria concluded.

About an hour later they came up on a small farming town. “Lets just find ourselves a barn to sleep in and we will leave in the morning. You are right I am weak right now and I wont be able to continue without rest.”

Victoria nodded. “I shall knock on a door and ask one of these houses for assistance.”

Harold shook his head. “We won't ask, that's too much trouble. We will just slip into a barn unnoticed.”

  • “No, we will ask for assistance. I'm sure it will not be a problem.”

Before Harold could argue with her any longer Victoria trudged ahead of him and began in the direction of a small farm cottage. Harold had to wobble in her wake and caught up to her just as she was knocking on the door.

The door swung open. An aged farmer with a thick frame stood there. He stared at them menacingly. In his clenched fist he held a sharp short sword. “Whadda you want?” He growled.

Victoria cleared her throat. “I'm sorry sir, do you mind lowering your weapon. It is a little off putting.”

The man's eyes looked like they would bulge out of his reddening face. Harold stepped in front of Victoria. “Forgive her sir. My... er, woman has suffered a collision earlier today in which she fell and hit her head very hard. I fear the fall has knocked her good senses from her.”

Victoria tried to step forward again to defend herself, but Harold pushed away. “You see we are merchant travelers. Our horses have been outright stolen from us and the day has proved to be very trying. We merely seek a place to rest our heads for the night.”

Victoria managed to step forward. “And please sir we are hungry. Could we bother you for a-”

Victoria's words were cut off as Harold pushed her back again. “You see, her head is worse than I feared.”

The man scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “I can see that.. well I suppose you and yer women can bunk in the spare stall in my barn but I want ye out by sunrise.”

“Of course sir.” Harold said.

“Oh and one more thing,” the man ducked back into his one room cottage and not a second later returned with a warm loaf of bread.

Victoria's face lit up. “How kind of you sir!”

“Its not for you. It's for the pigs. Feed them and remember be out by sunrise!” With that the door slammed in their faces.

“How rude was that man!” Victoria complained.

Harold turned to face her. “Are you daft? Your a stranger, with a sword in your hands, knocking on a man's door and the first thing you do is ask him to disarm himself?! We are lucky that he didn't spear us on the spot!”

Victoria stepped closer to Harold. She snatched up the loaf of warm bread he clutched and made her way to the barn ridding herself of his attitude. She inhaled the delicious aroma. There was no way she was feeding this to the pigs.

The End

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