Petrichor

Rain seeps in the floorboards, the gentle footfalls of unkown creatures in the streets. Peering through the window, wrapped in itchy wool, the elfin move with jumpy, slight movements like deer. Their golden eyes land on me, quiet but curious. This one is shorter than the others, with a dark cape and wooden amulet hung with twine. It chirps quietly, and a dark finger taps the window frame three times.

I pull the curtain back and lean against a damp post. It takes a moment for my eyes to refocus, the barn has no light except for the candle at my side, nearing the end of its string. There’s a rat hole near the door, hastily tacked up with hide, now falling to the side, exposing the street. I don’t bother to fix it, the elfin had never bothered me before. As I considered climbing to the loft, to rest for the night, a loud crack resounded off the far wall of the barn. I climbed on all fours, peering through the drain, trying to get a look. I grumbled and walked to the door. Damn paranoid farmer had covered the opening with a box.

A few of the slim creatures clicked their, what I assume was their lips, in rapid succession, jumping away. An oak tree had been struck by lightning and fallen onto the side of the barn. Fortunately the wall was largely stone, so it hadn’t broken through.

fantastic.

I pick up my well worn satchel and my dagger in its sheath, and snuff the candle before closing the door behind me. Being lynched for witchcraft wasn’t on the agenda, tonight at least. I shake my head, laughing softly. These bastard villagers haven’t the slightest idea of the real issues. Not witches and elfin, no, we were largely useless and unintimidating folk.

The gatekeeper shouted at me nervously from inside his station, “Boy! What’re ye doing out? Can’t ye see the fae are about?” Another annoying thing about humans. They just can’t mind their own damn business. I pull my hood over my head, a bit of an ordeal with the large amounts of black curls, but I’ve managed to accomplish it without looking like a complete buffoon.

“Oi, are ye listenin ta me?”

“Just open the bloody gate!”

“I can’t let ye out, ya stupid boy, ye could be on’ve em.”

I mutter about his mother under my breath and draw a quick rune in the air. He doesn’t notice at first, nice thing about my runes, they don’t glow and spark like performers in the greater kingdom. A nice pale grey, faintly light so I can see it.

The lever rockets down and the man yelps, scurrying back on his rear.

“You poor, poor bastard.” I say, tightening my cloak. “You don’t even realize what you need to be looking for.”

The portcullis finished rising, a surprisingly lavish safegaurd for such a small village. I reached the other side- it should be noticed the guard was still screaming, and I snapped my fingers, sending it rocketing into the mud.

I waved a hand lazily, and cut into the forest, away from the main path, where search parties with torches and cholera would be killing anything that moved once dawn broke or the rain finished, whichever came first.