Capes and Quills- a collection of tales

  As the Traveler traversed the path further, she was suddenly startled by a frightened yell, as a boy whizzed down the mountain path on his bike, unable to brake and slow himself down. The Traveler ran after him, soon becoming out of breath but unwilling to let him get hurt and deal with injury alone, and watched in fear as he crashed into a tree, falling down and hurting his knee, but luckily not having any serious injuries. Pulling a torn piece of cloth from her dress under the cloak, she tried to wipe his knee and he tied it with the cloth, grinning. “Check out how cool I look!” he laughed, the Traveler giving a giggle and helping him stand up. They decided to walk to the next town together, the boy asking what he could do as thanks for the aid, and the Traveler made her usual request, the boy smiling and telling the tale of ‘the Painter and the Snowflake’ ‘Once upon a time, there was a painter on the shore, who was drawing a hand whilst listening to the crashing of the waves a...

  Walking down the path to the next village, the air was growing slightly thinner due to the altitude, the Traveler having to take breaks occasionally to breathe. She found herself by a small lake with a few houses dotted around, washing herself briefly in the water and cleaning her shoes, which seemed as if they may fall apart. Sarafelle could likely sew them though, or she could find someone to repair them, as despite everything she had grown attached to her old cloak, rags and shoes. She did love watching Sara trying on other clothes and getting dressed up like a prince, but she was used to the clothes she wore now. It might be nice to repair them, though, as they had been torn up all that time ago, hence why she wore the cloak to cover herself. Well, that was one of the reasons, at least. As she finished cleaning her shoes, she slipped them back on and headed toward the houses, where a man was sowing some flower seeds in his garden. Not wanting to be rude, the Traveler tried no...

  The Traveler wandered to a new part of the village, where she spotted a girl outside a bakery, offering for anyone to try a sample of her mother’s bread. Feeling her stomach growl slightly, the Traveler walked over and asked if she could have some, the girl giving a big grin and letting her take a piece. It was delicious, fresh and warm from the oven, and the savoury taste made the Traveler feel fulfilled. “Tell your mother it is truly delicious.” the Traveler spoke, the little girl beaming and nodding. The Traveler then got her familiar sensation, which told her to linger awhile, and she looked down at the little girl, who looked like she was thinking hard about something. “Is there something on your mind?” the Traveler asked, the little girl nodding slightly. “I heard this story and I’m thinking about it a lot.” she huffed, the Traveler being attentive and wishing to hear it. The little girl looked up, noticing how intrigued the Traveler looked, and wondered if she could tell h...

  The Traveler arrived in a village square, where a jester was juggling and playing with a puppet, sat inside a travelling caravan. He called the passerby over, the girl being surprised but unafraid, and asked her to choose a card from the deck. Ace of Spades. She stared down at it, the jester then taking it and not looking, before pulling it out of the shuffled deck flawlessly, surprising her. She nodded, confirming it was her card, and the man smiled. “Ace of Spades, this little card here has a lot of meanings. In some contexts it can indicate bad luck and even perhaps death, whilst in others it can indicate pleasure and voracious love. It can mean overcoming an emotional hurdle due to lack of appreciation, and it can even mean a happy future in some cases. Interesting card to be pulled by a wanderer.” he winked, the girl averting her eyes slightly but nodding. Voracious love was the last thing she wanted out of life, but to hear she could overcome this hurdle…she couldn’t help a...

  Moving onto the next town, the Traveler encountered a puppet master playing with marionettes and putting on a show. Though her stomach turned slightly at the strings, she found herself entranced by the way they danced, as if made of light and air alone, the strings practically being invisible from afar. As the children laughed at the dance, the puppet master smiled and stepped into his little curtained room, putting down the puppets and instead decided to tell the crowd a tale, a story to enthral and delight. Intrigued, the Traveler opened her book and listened intently, sitting down alongside the steadily growing crowd and preparing to write the tale of ‘the Kind-Hearted Princess’ ‘In a land far away, there was a magical pair of shoes created from the most rare of crystals, ones which allowed the wearer to dance more beautifully than anyone else in the world. In a nearby kingdom, a young princess had fallen in love with a handsome but distant prince. She wished to impress him, s...

  The Traveler wandered toward the forest, finding some of the mushrooms Sarafelle had previously shown her were safe, and cut them with her sword, eating them. They weren’t particularly yummy, but they were food, and she would faint if she didn’t eat so anything was better than nothing. She took a moment to sit on a rock, opening her book and reminiscing. Her mind wandered around the norigae and thoughts of her brothers, reminders of times long past and stories they’d shared. One particular memory came to her, and she thought back, leaning against a tree and closing her eyes. One winter’s night, there was a huge blizzard outside. The youngest had been afraid, so Richard and his older sister had been reading books and acting out plays to comfort him. Richard was dressed in a dark sheet, pretending to be an evil villain, and was chasing his sister around the bed, until she eventually jumped onto the bed next to the youngest, the two wrapping Richard in a blanket and throwing him dow...

  Arriving in a small village, the Traveler encountered a young maid who was cleaning a fountain. The attire reminded her of Sarafelle and she got her familiar sensation, so she approached the girl. She was scrubbing hard and seemed exhausted, so despite her frailty the Traveler offered to take over, scrubbing at the fountain until it shone and she could see her reflection. She wondered to herself if Sarafelle had to scrub every inch of the castle, wash every banner, and clean each pillar. The castle had been huge, wooden floors would need to be swept and cleaned, the stone walls would need to be polished and the rampant flowers held back. The stairs would need wiping, the rooms dusting, the tables cleaning… It made the Traveler weary just thinking about it, and to think Sarafelle did that for hours on end…she couldn’t help but dream of the day when both of them would get proper jobs and live in their cottage together, taking care of Sarafelle’s mother. The Traveler could easily be...

  Heading down the path, the Traveler came across a small potions stand, set up by an older woman dressed in an old, worn robe. She smiled at the passing wanderer, noticing how she seemed quite tired, and offered for her to rest awhile at the stand. With a flick of her wand, she created another chair, the Traveler realizing this lady was a witch, though the older woman assured her she wouldn’t harm her as she was long retired. “I don’t get visitors often, though. Not many people come down this path anymore.” she lamented, the Traveler quietly listening, before the woman created a tea set out of thin air, handing the Traveler a teacup with a sweet tea inside, and a plate with a little cream bun on it, surprising her. “It knows your favourite food, dearie. Personally, I love myself a hot cross bun.” she giggled, the Traveler also smiling and feeling quite at home, despite the fact they were merely sitting together at an old vendor table. The two began to chatter, the witch explaining...

  The Traveler was walking through the forest, finding herself in a slightly darker patch and hearing footsteps, immediately turning. And there he was, his pink braid flowing in the wind and a crow settling on his shoulder, the man gently stroking its beak. “Now, now, Roc. Don’t be afraid…it’s not like she can hurt us.” he giggled, the Traveler clenching her fists. “Someone as worthless as her couldn’t hurt a fly…” he cooed, the Traveler gritting her teeth. “I’m not worthless.” she replied, Marcielle being surprised she’d dare talk back. It almost reminded him of Sarafelle…and come to think of it, he hadn’t seen her for a week or two. He silently clenched his own fist, Roc noticing and rubbing his head against Marcielle’s cheek, who gave a little smirk and pulled out an apple, passing a little slice to the bird before taking a bite of it himself. “Are you sure? From where I’m standing you seem pretty pathetic. You didn’t even fight back that night, did you?” he murmured, the Travel...

  Walking through the town, the Traveler found herself in a marketplace, where there were many wares being sold. She found herself looking at the many items available, before noticing someone wandering among the stalls. A young girl, only a few years older than herself, was also doing the same. She was simply and modestly dressed, and had been instructed to wait there by a close friend, so she was staring at everything. There were some glistening, bejewelled boxes on display, decorated in gemstones and shards of broken mirror glass, but empty inside, meant to be used as trinkets or ornaments. The Traveler didn’t feel any sensation from this girl, but felt interested in her nonetheless, so she continued to watch her. The girl was approached by a rich noble, who began talking to her, and from this the Traveler deduced this was the person who she was awaiting, withdrawing her eyes. Though if her gaze had lingered longer, she may have noticed a darker truth behind the encounter, and dr...

  After yet another sleepless night, the Traveler found herself hungry, remembering how Sarafelle had identified the safe berries, and began to pick some nearby blackberries, trying to avoid her hands becoming stained in the process. The taste reminded her of those days with Sarafelle, and how much she missed travelling with a companion. Despite everything, the fact she was forced to be alone and how scared she would feel around strangers, she still missed her partner and remembered the promise she kept in her heart. Even with whispers and glares, the Traveler would never stop trying to run toward that future of a life with Sarafelle, and would do her best to achieve it. Now that her fingers were covered in blackberry juice, she headed over to a spring and washed her hands, before noticing a stranger watching her and becoming slightly tense. The man approached her, he had an air of confidence but also an aura of gentleness, so she had no reason to be afraid. “Are you in need of ass...

The days passed, the Traveler having left the home and walking onwards toward the next village. There was a young woman performing in the streets, wearing a giant pair of stilts and towering above everyone below, several children waving at her. The Traveler watched as she hopped down, her performance ending for the day, and got the familiar sensation, deciding to approach her. The woman was quite friendly, the Traveler merely asking if she had any stories to tell, explaining she found herself intrigued, and the woman laughed and said she had one that she was planning to tell her younger sister that evening, asking if the Traveler would like to hear it. She opened her book and nodded, the woman leaning on her stilts and telling the tale of ‘the Artist of the Sky’ ‘Once, there was a young artist who lived by the sea, and who set about painting the sky. She toiled for hours on end, practicing her clouds, forming the sun just at the perfect point in the sky, but by the time she was finishe...

  The snow was thick and swirling around the Traveler as she walked, the girl wishing she had a light to find her way easier. Shivering, she saw a light in the distance and despite her inhibitions, walked toward it. If Sarafelle had taught her anything, it was the value of trusting strangers with good intentions. Though there were plenty of rotten apples, a true friend was worth more than any wealth. The wind pushed her forward, the girl gently touching the frozen brass knocker, before firmly tapping. A young woman answered the door, covered in a shawl and shivering slightly from the wind. Recognizing the girl was just a pauper, she invited her in and stoked the fire, explaining she only had one bed but that the Traveler was welcome to rest on the sofa. Sitting down, the nice woman draped a blanket around the girl and gave her a pillow she’d sewn herself, the Traveler then realizing she was a seamstress. The woman was working on a long dress covered in furs and warm layers, the Tra...

  The Traveler awoke in the familiar white field, once more feeling cold, but no longer wearing that awful pink outfit. Now she was clothed in a dress once familiar, one her mother had stitched for her many years ago, a simple light brown dress with a little rose knot at the top. Her mother had taught her that knot, it was simple but beautiful, and she’d call her a little bloom. She shook her head. No use dwelling if she wished to leave this place. She walked away from both the gate and that fearful nightmare, still hating the field but trying to find a way out once more. Eventually, she came to a point where the flowers began to change colour, turning from white to violet, and surrounding an expanse of ice, looking exactly like the lake she and her brothers would spend hours on during the winter, twirling and whirling around. She looked down and spotted a pair of ice skates, hardly daring to hope, but slipped them on- they fit perfectly. Pushing off, she glided across the ice, lea...

  After departing the caravan the next morning, the Traveler made her way to the middle of the town, where she found herself by a canal. A group of men were dredging it, pulling tangled nets and old fish hooks away from the floor, before something else was dislodged. It flew through the air and crashed into shards right by the Traveler, who bent down. The glass was sharp, but there was something amid it, so she pulled her sleeve over her hand to brush it away and try to avoid being poked, despite how thin the cloak was. Her hand touched a cork- the object had been a bottle- and then a piece of paper, a rolled-up scroll that was just like the ones she would read about as a child. There had been a tale she knew as a child, one claiming that if a person were to write a wish on paper and throw it to the mercy of the waves, it would someday come true. Unwrapping the scroll, she stared down at the words, tears coming to her eyes as she read. ‘To whoever finds this, I have only one wish. ...

  As night fell and the Traveler proceeded further down the path, the forest had become desolate and lonesome. She grew wary, flinching visibly at every noise and wishing Sarafelle was there to protect her, like a prince from the stories she read as a child. Proceeding onwards, a mist covered the scenery and obscured her vision, the Traveler contemplating turning back but knowing it wasn’t an option at all. As she continued, she began to forget the way she came, the fog hiding any familiar trees or landmarks she could use to find her way. She began to get turned around, the wind ripping through her small form and snow mercilessly pelting her thin clothes. Gritting her teeth, she tried to find her way but tripped on a rock and fell down into a snowbank, feeling herself grow colder and colder. The woods were dangerous enough in the day, but they could be horrific at night, so she knew she had to find her way to a clearing at the very least. A bright light suddenly startled her, a sil...

  Continuing through the forest, the Traveler came to an unfamiliar town through a thicket of trees, spotting a man winding a barrel organ and singing. Curious, she stepped closer and listened to the music, feeling herself sway slightly. Curtains on the little machine opened, revealing a puppet show of dancers and figurines, marionettes spinning and paper backgrounds moving in a display of colour. At the front of the scene was a couple, dancing together in a beautiful waltz. Staring down at them, the Traveler couldn’t help but let her mind wander as the music played, the girl finding herself envisioning a future where she and Sara would dance under the trees, butterflies and flowers surrounding them and fireflies lighting up the night. Still gently swaying, the Traveler gazed at the miniature scene and felt a smile creep onto her lips. It was something out of the storybooks she used to read with her brothers, like a watercolour illustration which moved. A part of her wished to touc...

  The Traveler wandered from the previous town, following the forest path and finding a young boy sitting and collecting bugs. He smiled and approached her, before a yellow butterfly fluttered around her head, much to her surprise. The boy began trying to grab at it, but it flew high in the sky and away from them, to his disappointment. He pouted and sat on a rock, the Traveler remembering how Richard used to act much like this when he was angry. He could be very dramatic sometimes…her mind wandered back to that day at the lake. She’d loved skating as a child, it was her favourite, and Richard was angry because she’d thrown a snowball at him. A faint chuckle began in her throat from the nostalgia, before she quickly cut off the memory and focused on the boy in front of her. Gently, she reached out and patted his head, the child looking up at her in surprise. “I want to find more bugs…” he mumbled, the Traveler offering to help him look. They picked up logs and rocks galore, the Tra...

  The Traveler made her way to the other side of the town, where there was a woman hanging up her washing. She dropped several pieces of clothing, much to her frustration, so the Traveler ran over and picked them off the ground before they got too dirty, quietly offering to help the woman wash them again. Grateful, they headed toward the communal well, where the air was punctuated with the chatter of gossiping women, discussing a foreign prince’s recent marriage to one of the village women. “She’d have been a fool to refuse, especially without so much as a dowry. I wonder what he saw in her.” one of them nattered, the Traveler quietly listening as she helped the older woman clean her clothes. Another piped up. “Did you hear about those boys caught together? What disgraceful conduct!” she spoke, the rest of the women murmuring in agreement and berating them. Quietly, the Traveler asked her companion what was happening, the woman explaining that two unmarried boys had been caught in ...

  Arriving in another small town, the Traveler heard the clanging of a blacksmith’s anvil, stopping to watch the man at work. He had a gentle face, despite his stature and build, and seemed cheerful and polite, smiling down at the young girl and motioning for her to come closer, allowing her to look at the object he was making. It was a silver horseshoe, perfectly curved and red hot to the touch, glowing bright orange as the man finished shaping it. With a smile, he picked it up with his tongs, steam hissing as he took it for cooling. The sound reminded the Traveler of how being touched used to feel, as if her skin was being burned by each fingertip, every curve of the tongue. She gave a slight shiver. He was still out there, so she had to stay vigilant. She would complete her goal, free herself from the iron shackles and live how she pleased. Perhaps she’d wander, or settle after so long of wandering. Regardless, she would be free. The blacksmith turned to her, before smiling slig...

  After a day or two of feeling lonely without Sara, the Traveler finally picked herself up again and wandered toward a town at the base of a mountain. There, she watched several street performers putting people inside bubbles or creating human towers. She watched as one of them vaulted off a fountain, landing close to her and taking her by surprise slightly. He tipped his hat, the girl getting her usual strange sensation and approaching him. “Excuse me, sir…would you happen to know any stories?” she asked, the man being a little surprised but giving an eager nod. “Oh, you’re in luck! I learned a most interesting story just yesterday and I’ve been dying to share it with someone!” he laughed, before hopping back up the fountain and sitting atop it, telling the tale of ‘the Disappearing Butterfly’. ‘Once upon a time, there was a famous magician who was known all throughout the lands, who performed the most incredible tricks and was invited by numerous kings and queens to perform in t...

  A few more days passed, having changed back into their regular clothes the next morning and traversing several hills, both girls finally found themselves in a familiar patch of the forest, encountering an old man on their travels. He was gentle, bearing some scars and wearing a hood similar to that of the Traveler’s, but seemed happy and sweet, complimenting Sara and becoming interested in the Traveler, who seemed to be getting more comfortable with general conversation thanks to Sara. She casually spoke of her quest, a lot more relaxed than before, and the three of them sat on a log together so the old man could tell them a story, since he wanted to help the young girl. Sarafelle smiled at the gesture and listened to the man tell the story of ‘the Escapist’. ‘A long time ago, there was a brutal and bloody war, in which many lives were claimed and the army grew much larger than ever before, under the rule of the powerful King and Queen. One man and his father were taken from thei...

  The two had been walking for a few days, finding themselves in a new town where the Traveler accidentally tripped over a broom left on the road. Stumbling, she picked it up as a young girl came running, apologizing profusely and taking the broom from her, Sarafelle gently reassuring her as the Traveler was unharmed. The little girl smiled, before sweeping at the dust on the road, Sarafelle beginning to converse with her as she worked, and offering to help. Soon, all three of them were cleaning together, the girl offering to tell them something she read about to pass the time. Enthusiastic, Sarafelle agreed, the Traveler deciding to memorize the story and write it later. The girl smiled and told the story of ‘the Dream Seer.’ ‘Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young woman with hair in ringlets and a dress that glistened with gems. A scientist and magician, she had the ability to see inside people’s heads, and more specifically their dreams. Typically, she would interpret the...