Bernadette hated the woods. The damp darkness reminded her of her grandparents basement. She would descend into the darkness, armed with a candle, to fetch pickled radishes or fermented plums or dried dragon hide. It felt both exciting and safe back then, but now the memory made her shudder.

The rustling of leaves opposite to the campfire announced the arrival of her companion. ‘We’re close now, the prisms are almost aligned’ the wizard muttered to himself as he emerged from the bushes. He slipped a small object into his pouch as he sat down at the fire. She could feel him relax by the warms of the fire. ‘Rest now, little warrior, you will need your strength tomorrow.’ he said, absently smiling in her direction.

Bernadette hated wizards. Their vagueness, their know-it-all attitude, and most of all their money. It seemed they could just conjure it, while Bernadette was forced to sit at this scrummy camp fire in these damned woods to make just enough to pay rent.

An unfamiliar sound from a brush behind them reminded Bernadette that the woods were no place to relax, every. She bend down to grab her double blade and felt something sharp pass over her, splitting hairs and ruining her cherished headband. In one smooth motion she shot up, steadying her body, and passed the blade in a wide arch through the brush that had emitted the sound. She felt the blade split leaves and branches and flesh and bone. The motion ended on one knee, like she was proposing, as the blade slammed into the ground. She stopped there, waiting for a sign from their assailants. There was silence. She looked up and saw the split bushes, and in them two bloody halves of what must have been a small man.

Tbc…

Entered by: 0x84f2…c73d and preserved on chain (see transaction)