The wooden spoon scraped against the bottom of my bowl as I stirred the steaming stew, watching the chunks of potato and meat swirl in the broth. The tavern's dimly lit interior cast long shadows across our table, and the murmur of other patrons created a comforting backdrop to our meal. While the stew couldn't compare to Ms. Vera's legendary cooking, the rich aroma and hearty flavor were exactly what we needed.
Our small group sat in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts as we ate. The quiet was broken only by the occasional clink of spoons against bowls and the crackling of the hearth fire nearby. I could feel Smith's eyes on us, studying each of us in turn, and I knew what was coming even before he cleared his throat.
"So..." he began, his voice carefully casual. "Where are you three headed?"
The question hung in the air like smoke. Though I'd been expecting it, I still felt my shoulders tense. Where were we headed? The thought had been haunting me since we'd fled, but I'd pushed it aside, focusing instead on the immediate concerns of keeping us alive and moving. Now, faced with Smith's direct question, I found myself at a loss for words.
My hesitation must have been more telling than any answer I could have given. A knowing smile crossed Smith's weathered face as he leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with understanding.
"Oh... I see," he said, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. "You're not headed to anywhere... you're headed away from somewhere—or someone?"
The perceptiveness in his observation sent a chill down my spine. This man saw too much, understood too well, and that both impressed and terrified me. I forced a light laugh, trying to diffuse the tension. "You could say that."
Smith returned my nervous giggle with one of his own, but his eyes remained sharp and calculating. "Where is all your gear?" he pressed on. "Do you have any money? Any way of making money?"
Each question felt like another weight being added to my already heavy shoulders. The truth was painfully simple: we had nothing. No resources, not much knowledge of the world beyond the orphanage and Ms.Vera's cabin, and no idea how to survive out here. The realization made my stomach churn worse than any questionable tavern stew could.
"We were... in a hurry when we left," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck as I tried to maintain a casual tone. "Didn't really have time to pack."
"I see." Smith's response was quiet, thoughtful. He studied me for a long moment, concern etching deeper lines around his eyes. "Well, what's your plan to survive? How are you kids going to make money?"
I opened my mouth to respond—though honestly, I had no idea what I was going to say—when Maya's voice cut through the tension like a sword through silk.
"Adventuring!"
The word burst from her with such force and conviction that several nearby patrons turned to look at our table. I whirled to face her, my jaw dropping in shock. Smith's eyebrows shot up toward his hairline, and even our usually stoic companion Rowan let out a small gasp.
Maya sat straight-backed in her chair, her chin lifted in defiance, eyes blazing with determination. The firelight caught the copper highlights in her dark hair, making it seem as though she was crowned in flames.
Adventuring. The word echoed in my mind, at first seeming absurd, desperate, even dangerous. But as I let it sink in, something else began to take root. Adventurers were free to go where they pleased. They could make money, build reputations, learn about the world. More importantly, they could become strong enough that they'd never have to run again.
As I looked at Maya's determined face, I felt the first stirrings of hope we'd had since leaving Ms.Vera's. Maybe it wasn't such a crazy idea after all.