Faithful Pebble
Part Fifty-Nine
"You seem to know a lot more about this than expected," he murmured softly. "You sound like you're from the village, but that doesn't make sense. None of the villagers seem to even know who you are. Even you seem to talk as though you are not a part of them."
"I am from the village," Pebble mumbled. "But I didn't live there. I know a place that we can stay. We can stay the night and then head to your friend's town in the morning. We'd hit the outskirts by noon at the latest."
The wanderer watched her hands and stepped forward, his toes touching the edge of the forest's shadow, the edge of the path leading in. So, you are from the woods, he confirmed quietly, in his thoughts where he knew she could not hear.
Pebbled turned to face him, her cloak nearly disappearing under the ominous shadow of the forest's canopy. In her hands a chain dangled—no, the wander gasped. No, the chain glistened. Even in the dark, it glistened.
"Going this way could save us a day's journey, possibly two." Pebble's hood inflated then deflated again. The movement was barely visible. "I used to travel through here a lot. I still remember the path. We won't get lost."
She could be telling the truth. Yet, the wanderer couldn't tell. She had lied to him before. "Just traveled?" he asked. "It's been sometime since you've ventured in. What if—"
Pebble threw something at his feet then turned and walked away. In moments, she disappeared entirely into the forest's darkness. It was a setting she was well accustomed to. She practically embraced it.
The wanderer took a breath and picked up the necklace. The man inhaled sharply allowing his fingers, still dirty from the well, to caress the chiseled peaks of each gem. It was the dragon, the symbol etched in the sign nestled hauntingly in the bushes behind him. Where that one was painted in red, outlined in yellow, this one glittered a brilliant white blue. Where that one was haggard and rough, a splattering of paint long since faded and splintered from time and nature's elements, this one was elegant, slender and slick, graceful and proud. This one was a piece of art, a mythical beast fierce and proud crafted artfully out of nothing but pure white silver set diamonds. They almost glowed in the dark. They were that pure in spite the dirt which encompassed them.
The wanderer exhaled blinking slowly down at the priceless heirloom. Then his gaze shifted up at the forest and then up after the girl. Thoughts of the boy immediately vanished as the wanderer stumblingly stepped through the branches following the voice that tempted him into the dark.
"I won't set foot in that blood-soaked town. You can go that way if you want to, but I won't follow you."
The wanderer pocketed the necklace.
"Anyway, you really have nothing to worry about. As I said, I know my way around."
The dragon's luminous shine slithered beside the nestle of springs and gears that had already begun to twitch and rattle beneath his fingers. The wanderer licked his lips.
"By the way, do you like fairy tales?"
I think I know your answer, but I'm only guessing. - Calla