Walk in the Woods

Sorrel remained frozen as the man choked and groused; she couldn’t quite get her wits about her to move. After a moment the sluggishness seemed to seep from her limbs and she pulled herself up to her full height, drew her travel cloak around her. She couldn’t have a stranger think she was some hysterical halfwit. Not for the moment, at least. “My apologies,” she said, trying her best to sound confident and not at all like she’d woken up in a strange new place, “I’ve just had...a hell of a journey.” She studied the man’s face. Youngish, younger than her at least, and endearingly scruffy. Dressed like a rogue from the plays, and it was funny - something about the armour didn’t ring true. The only thing that seemed genuine was the sliver of danger that such a uniform would suggest, and Sorrel weighed up her options. He didn’t seem to be a brigand, or actively hostile, but she most likely shouldn’t do anything to piss him off. While she considered this, he swallowed something, and Sorrel grasped the bag at her hip instinctively - swore under her breath at the telltale lightness of it being empty. Her herbs and capsules were gone too, it seemed, which meant that she was stuck somewhere wild and strange without anything to barter with. She put on her most nonthreatening smile and stepped toward him, “would you happen to know the name of this...butthole of a town?” If you don’t ask, she thought, you don’t get. Sorrel Carried away by the truculence of my world, I got lost in the search for enlightenment, The blue rain covered my roots, And I forget where I came from.