A young woman sat at an old, wooden table, completely focused on a small block of silver metal in front of her. Her brown hair obscured her face as she leaned over it, muttering under her breath.
"Ow!" she exclaimed suddenly, jerking back and sucking on her index finger. "Damn, I did it again..." she thought. "Get it together."
She shook her head and returned to her work. Taking a deep breath, she touched her lightly burnt finger to the block of metal and moved it as if drawing. A slight groove formed under her fingertip, and she smiled as she started murmuring quiet words. Identical grooves covered two sides of the block, forming an intricate pattern.
"Myra!" she heard someone call from outside her house. Sighing, she stood, leaving the metal on the table to find out who was calling her.
"What is it?" Myra said when she saw the smiling boy outside her house.
"I've got something for you!" he said, grinning as he held up a beautiful red apple. "See?"
"Wow..." Myra took it and examined it carefully. "Where did you get this?"
"From the Lady Faylore." The boy's smile widened, and he blushed slightly.
"Makes sense," Myra thought. "There's definitely traces of magic on this apple." Aloud, she said, "Well, the next time Lady Faylore comes by, make sure to get one for your sister, too, okay?"
"But she got one, too!" he protested. "She gave one to all of us!"
Myra smiled and patted his head. "Well, thanks anyway." Suddenly, something occurred to her. "Do you know if Lady Faylore is still around?"
"No, she left already."
Myra sighed. "Guess I'm going to have to catch up, then," she thought. "Thanks," she told the boy, mussing his already-messy brown hair. He jerked away and ran off, waving over his shoulder to Myra.
"I'd better get packed," Myra thought as she went back inside. She grabbed a leather backpack and started shoving travel essentials into it: a small bag of food, a bottle of water, a first-aid kit and a spare set of clothes. She stared at the apple for a moment, then decided to save it for later. "I'm not really that hungry right now, anyway."
Finally, Myra went into her smithy and made sure that all her tools were put away, the fore out, and all of her half-finished projects put somewhere out of the way. "I should really get back to that," she thought as she held up a half a suit of chain mail. "Guess it'll have to wait until I get back."
As she left, Myra hung a sigh on her door, reading, "Blacksmith is out; please wait until she returns."
"That might be a long wait," Myra thought with a smile.
Taking a deep breath, she left her home and started heading for the forest, already sweating under the midday sun.