Capes and Quills- a collection of tales

  Walking once more through the forest, the Traveler sat down on a log and pulled back her sleeve, grimacing at the ring of bruises on her wrist. Tracing a hand over them, she stared down. He’d left yet another mark. Bruising wasn’t permanent, and scars would fade, but the trauma seemed as if it would live on forever, festering inside her mind until she eventually died. She trembled slightly. The memories were stirring back up again. Those hands, her confusion, then terror. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Surveying her surroundings, she suddenly heard someone yelling for help nearby. Stiffening up, she drew out her sword and ran toward the source of the sound, worried. A little boy stood outside a nearby cave, crying, and turned when he saw her, claiming a monster had got his sister inside. Raising an eyebrow, the Traveler showed him her sword, took a breath and walked into the darkness, finding the little girl almost immediately. A rock had fallen on her foot, not hur...

  The snowy town centre was bustling with people as the Traveler walked through, almost pushing amid the large crowd forming around the various performers, as was common for towns at nightfall. But which one to ask for a story? She debated for a moment, eventually pausing to watch one of them as her gaze landed on a fantastic fire-eater, the best the world had ever seen. Gazing in awe at the act, she couldn’t help but join the crowd as they clapped furiously for him, her own tiny sounds nothing amid the roar of applause. Suddenly, something hit her heel, so she turned, wondering if it was a stray snowball from the nearby children playing. But as soon as she looked down, she began to feel an awful wave of nausea. Scanning the crowd, she bent down, picking up the shiny red apple. Examining it, she noticed a single bite taken out of it, and felt her moment of happiness fade into fear, slightly shaking. Turning the fruit round in her fingers, she searched for clues as to where on earth...

  Walking through a town, the Traveler’s ears suddenly caught wind of a song, someone playing a gentle melody which she soon found herself following until reaching the source. A young woman, likely in her early twenties, was sitting and plucking at the strings of an ornate harp, decorated in carvings of angels and flowers. Staring for a moment, she noticed something strange. The harp itself was absolutely beautiful, but the strings were something else, glittering in the light and glistening as she plucked, the sunlight catching them and decorating them with sparkles. The woman noticed her listening and gave her a slight smile. “They’re made from gold, you know?” she spoke, the Traveler leaning in closer to take a look. The woman beckoned, the girl obliging and taking a seat next to her. Gently, the woman showed her how to pluck the harp, the Traveler clumsily trying but not having the elegance or technique necessary- she was younger, and had never touched a harp before- but the wom...

  The Traveler arrived in a quiet area of a town, where a man was watering some flowers from behind a gate, the girl stopping to observe him. He was focused, and careful with the method, trying to make sure each bud got the nourishment it needed in equal amounts, not too much, not too little. He then turned, noticing her, a smudge of graphite on a perfect painting, and gently smiled, giving her a warm greeting. Shyly, she gave a nod, before staring down at the flowers, the man opening the gate to let her take a closer look. One of the buds suddenly sent its petals flying toward her, where they landed atop her hood. Gently, the man plucked one off as she brushed them away, and stared at her. “A chrysanthemum. Commonly associated with death.” he spoke, before handing the petal to her. She felt its soft texture on her palm, and rubbed it between her fingers- it was little, but held a world of meaning, much like her book. The man then finished watering his plants and headed toward...

  The Traveler reached a bustling town centre, where she saw hundreds of people selling all sorts of wares, such as exotic fruits, fabrics and books. Stopping for a moment by each stall, she found herself observing an extremely crowded fruit stand. Amid the loud chatter and frequent pushing, her eyes eventually drifted onto a bowl of red apples. Her hands shook upon seeing them as the memories stirred back in her mind, a memory of how she had enjoyed one that night, blissfully unaware of what horrors came after. Before she could stop herself, she raised her hand and hit the bowl, causing it to fall off the table with a clatter, fruit spilling everywhere. Instantly, the crowd dispersed, the Traveler blending into it and hiding her face, extremely remorseful but not wanting to risk arrest. She then saw a young, starving boy scurrying away with some of the fallen apples and tilted her head. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to do? Regardless, if she had the money, she would have paid f...

  Out in the forest, the Traveler came across a fellow traveler, face hidden by bandages and eyes barely visible, but body holding many different items strapped to him by rope. He looked as if he, too, was alone in the world, so the two began to walk together. Both knew the forest held dangers, but what dangers they held was different for each of them. For the bandaged boy, the beast of the woods was the danger of which he was wary, whilst for the Traveler, the danger was much more human. That is, if he could even call himself human. The two traversed a muddy edge of the forest, the Traveler eventually stopping by a river to clean her shoes, which were not built for such terrain. Since the two were having a rest, the boy unstrapped his jar of water from his back and drank from it, lowering his bandages slightly and offering a little to the Traveler. She took it with slight hesitation, but it was cool and relieving, since she didn’t eat or drink much. Passing it back to the boy, she...

  One cold morning, the Traveler walked along a cobbled path toward a tavern, not planning on ordering anything in particular but simply needing a way to get out of the wind and rain. Settling in a booth of her own, a waitress approached her, offering a menu. Declining, she instead pulled out the book, and asked the woman for her best story. Bartering, the waitress asked what she could get in return, the Traveler thinking for a moment. She could give up her sword, but then she would be left with nothing to defend herself. And giving up the book and quill was obviously impossible. She didn’t have much else, apart from her cloak and the rags underneath, so she simply shrugged. The waitress stared at her, seeing how frail and young she was, and sighed. “Fine, you get it free just this once.” she spoke, sitting down opposite the Traveler, who was secretly glad. The woman watched as she prepared her quill, and started to tell the tale of ‘the student who knew everything’. ‘A while ago, ...

  Finding herself by a school, the Traveler felt warm under the cloak- there was not a cloud in the sky. Loosening it slightly, she was glad for the breeze picking up, before noticing a young boy watching her from the fence. “Hello there!” he called, the Traveler obliging and walking toward him. “Who are you?” he asked, but the Traveler didn’t reply, so instead he opened his schoolbook. “Today we learned about this tree! I’m going to look for it later!” he proclaimed, the Traveler bending down to look at the boy’s illustration- a tree full of stars. Curious, she tilted her head, and he began to talk, telling her the tale he’d heard of ‘The Bird’s favourite Star’ ‘In a faraway land, there sat a tree, roots imbued with magic and feeding off the light of the moon and stars. Its leaves glowed a bright blue hue, and it held various seed pods, in many different colours, each of which held a thousand baby stars. As they bloomed and grew stronger, the stars were eventually flung up to the ...