Snow, Gingerbread and Fate Part VIII
Thank the Gods her journey on the strands of fate were over before her dead body hit the cold and dirty cobblestone. In the last few images before she returned to the here and now, she could see the three men from earlier at the pub, standing over her dying body.
Simahaa slowly opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she leaned herself against the wall beside the door and vomited her breakfast.
The observation lid of the door slid open and the man behind it grunted. “Not good, eh?”
Simahaa shook her head. She spit the rest of her food on the ground and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Some blood was on it, probably because she had bitten her tongue. “Not good,” she said. “You should keep away from King’s Fate and pubs the next few weeks, if you value your life.”
The man wrinkled his eyebrows, then he grunted again and closed up both lids in his door.
“You are welcome,” Simahaa said and spit one last time against the door. She pulled her hood back up and walked out of the alley into the crowded market.
The thought of getting rid of her source of Boestos’ tears crossed her mind again. It would be much cheaper and healthier in the long run. But first she had to find another source or getting him to tell her. Meanwhile her purchase should last for a few months. She absently touched the bag in her hidden pocket. A few more months of dreamless sleep.
