journey

It is Autumn and the sky outside is pale. Cold clear light slants in the window. You are packing your bag and all but done. One decision remains. Will you bring:

a) your grandfather's antique sword

b) your mother's crystal egg

c) a carved box you found in the attic, which is locked, and you without the key but hopeful of finding a way to open without breaking

Without ado you go.

The sun is high. You shut the door and hurry.

Westward the road winds past the fields you know, and on through the trees….

There is a bridge over a creek, a deep wood on yonder side--but neither you nor anyone in your family has crossed it--only the occasional traveler or wagon never seen again. The wood is rumored to be perilous, but whether by the devil, or faery enchantment depends on the teller of the tale.

Eastward the lane winds past the neighbors, who might be having luncheon out on a day like today. A little further and it joins the North-South highway. Northward winds through a fair country, ultimately to the war where you have seen long lines of soldiers marching since June. Southward and a long journey wends to the famed cities of Marstel and Finrim on the coast and many smaller towns and villages beside and along the way.

More of the world you know not, but it is time to go.