Myra stumbled over a tree root for the umpteenth time as she made her way on the overgrown path. "You'd think that she'd maintain it a little better than this," she thought irritably.
Finally, she found her destination: a house, just past where the trees started to thin, though only slightly better-kept than the path that led to it.
Myra could hear the trickle of water on the far side, and her water bottle was empty, so she decided to refill it before knocking on the door. As she walked by the house, she saw a roan horse in a small stable, steadily munching away on a trough full of oats. "I pity that horse," she thought, "for having to walk on that path."
She knelt by the river and splashed some of the cold water into her face, washing away some of the accumulated sweat and dirt, then pulled out her water bottle, unscrewed the top, and dipped it into the water. Once it was full, she put it away and cupped her hands, scooping up and drinking three handfuls.
Once she was done at the river, Myra stood and made her way back to the front of the house. Once she was in front of the door, she hesitated, then knocked. And waited.
No one answered. Frowning, Myra knocked again, somewhat more forcefully, and was rewarded a few moments later when the door opened to reveal a relatively pretty woman wearing a white dress. "Can I help you?" she said, curiosity in her voice.
"Um...yes..." Myra stumbled over the words she was trying to get out. "Um...my name is Myra Ferrus. I run the smithy at Tendroh."
"So, what is it you want?" the woman pressed.
Myra took a deep breath, then said, in a rush, "Lady Faylore, I would like for you to take me as your apprentice."