Scribblings

She felt wretched.  Nothing had gone the way she had wanted for the past week.  First, those bullies at the Academy forced her hand.  Then her great grandfather said she had to leave, though in not so many words.  So she did.  After the first day, she regretted it.  She didn’t have a lot of money and she ended up spending most of it on food and a room at the inn the first night outside Artina.  The next day, she had nearly been run over by a group of cavalry galloping away from the capital.  The next night she found that what little money she did have wasn’t enough for a room, so she slept in the stables.  She woke up that morning stiff and smelling of horse.  The next three days consisted of avoiding a small, but persistent, group of thugs that kept trying to catch her.  Fortunately, she had finally discouraged them by burying their leader up to his chest in dirt using her magic.  Unfortunately, the use of magic exhausted her even more and now, she was in Relaith without any money and looking as ragged and dirty as any common urchin.  But she had hope.  For the past hour she had been following an armored man who wasn’t keeping an eye on his coin pouch too well.  He was much older than she was.  She knew that old warriors were dangerous, after all they had a lot of experience, but she figured that if she let him get a few drinks in him, she might be able to snatch the pouch and run for it.  She watched him go into a tavern and snorted.  Here she was, a former student of the Academy of Force and Faith, great grand daughter of it’s headmaster, looking for all the world like a thief.  And acting like it, she grumbled quietly.

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