Dee went in search of a healer, but not a healer from anywhere close to her Master's wagons. There is a section toward the back, tucked in the middle of less than perfect wagons. A place where morals are not so strictly adhered to, where wagers involve more than excess, where secrets can find a warm place to hide. It takes all kinds of characters to keep a people thriving.
The woman that Dee met was neither old nor young, but had a frayed look around the edges, as if life had always dealt her friction and problems. Sturdy hands were working oil into leather when Dee approached, and a thin braid of brown trailed over the woman's shoulder, jostling back and forth as the woman worked. Dee nervously focused on the movement of hands as she started to speak, weaving a story filled with holes and sketchy details. When the healer finally looked up, Dee found herself gazing into the softest brown eyes she could imagine, and certainly not matching the woman's appearance.
An assumption was made, and Dee didn't try to correct it. In the end, she figured it would all work out for the best. But then the healer wanted to meet the free woman. Dee took a breath and nodded, then started back through the assembly of wagons.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment