Finding Gratitude, Part 16

The Green Witch

Wrong. It was all going wrong.

I was wearing the cloak. After I found a launder and stole some soap, it was easy enough to clean. My staff fit beneath the folds, and with the hood off my head I looked like just another girl in the crowd. Not a hero. Certainly not a threat or worth anyone’s time.

I just kept walking. I had walked out of the bar, and turned towards anything that looked like desperation. There had been plenty of it.

This was a city I could feel needed our help. There was crime, and corruption. People were being preyed upon by the very officials who pledged to defend them. No one was out there trying to help each other. This was something we could do, something we were good at.

And yet everything I did was looked upon as unwise. Some girl just sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. Or worse, I might help those who were more villain than victim. And that just sucked.

I needed to find Lana and Sela. Talk it over, see if this was too difficult. This wasn’t a place for heroes. It was grimy, disease-ridden, and openly corrupt. It was politics.

And that’s why we needed to help.

I stopped at a ruined building. The roof gone, the southern wall completely crumbled. What rubble had not been scavenged was scattered all around the street. The door was on the side of a porch, and I could see water pooling everywhere it wasn’t supposed to.

Looking down the lane, I could see more of the same. A completely abandoned part of town, empty of everything. Not even any sort of corruption here, no reason to shake down an empty house.

I cracked my neck, pulled out my staff, and walked up to the building. Back at Littlebrook we had had storms, and rowdy fights. One of the few things my dad had let me use my magic for was a little construction work, and the spell work was buried deep in my skull. A quick whistle and a few murmured words, and I had the rubble cleared, the door reset in the opening, and water being drawn out of the area.

Rats scurried away, their home being invaded. I ignored them, and kept working. This, this was something I was good at. I could use the rubble for a few posts. A new roof was not an option at this point, I’d have to scrounge up some new materials. As it was, I just wanted to get it comfortable, if not entirely habitable.

Still, just getting that much done was exhausting. I was covered in sweat, ready to collapse, and happier than I had been in several days. I sat on the porch, newly reinforced by yours truly, and took a well-deserved nap.

“What are you doing?”

copyright 2018 Jack Holder

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