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MARY's POV:
The scream was enough for Mary to catapult herself out of the cot. Hastily, she equipped her chest plate and sword holster before rushing out the door with the other guards, who had woken up in time for morning patrol. The wind whipped through her raven, short hair.
The streets of Riverden were made from uneven gravel pathing that was lined with weeds and small candle stakes–stone stakes in the ground with candles placed on top of them–most of which didn't work.
The cottages and houses that went along the path were small. The barren farmland was only about three houses wide and long.
It felt like hours, but it could’ve only been a few minutes before Mary swung open the door she was looking for. Her eyes frantically searched about the beige brick bakery, whose wooden chairs and tables were now flipped to their sides. The scent of lavender wafted through the air, consuming all who entered.
It didn’t take long for her to see the baker. A fragile old woman from the south named Jessica Mayflower.
“Ms. Mayflower–What happened?” Mary barked out with urgency in her tone. Her eyes never stopped trailing the little building.
“They’re here!” Ms. Mayflower wailed as she held up a chair like a shield, “They’ve returned!”
“Who? What–” Mary heard the ringing of bells coming from the back storage closet, answering all of her questions.
She placed her hand on her sword and slowly started to approach–
When the door flew open wide, Ms. Mayflower screamed in a mixture of freight and frustration.
Mary gritted her teeth and reared back at the sight of two glowing spheres with wings so quick they looked like they were leviating. One pink, one purple.
‘Pixies…’
***
The bakery was quickly shut off to the public. Though they only had a handful of guards, Mary stationed them all around the bakery, hoping to contain the pests.
Of course, that did little to stop the public—the entire village population—from approaching and trying to examine what was happening to the bakery.
Mary was with Ms. Mayflower, small parchment and quill in hand.
“Ms. Mayflower, can you review what happened before the incident?” she asked, her voice calm and level.
Ms. Mayflower, now out of breath, huffed. “I have told your guards three times already!”
Mary nodded. “I understand your frustration–however, it’s best to get information from the source.”
“Fine–I woke up at 8 a.m. like I normally do to start my mornin’ routine–shower, brush my teeth, all that–I had just gone down to the bakery when I realized the front flour packaging was out, so I went back to the storage to get a refill when those… Disgusting creatures leapt out at me!”
Mary hummed. “I see–So the pixies were in the back room?”
“Yes! I don’t see how I coulda be more clear on that!”
Mary's eye twitched, but she ignored the tone to the best of her ability. People were often snappy in times of panic and frustration, so a little disrepect was reasonable.
“I see… Thank you for your time, Ms. Mayflower,” Mary pocketed the parchment and gave the woman a bow before turning on her heel and heading off.
Behind her, Mary could hear Ms. Mayflower talking to her friends.
“This issue has been happenin’ since that girl took charge!” Ms. Mayflower hissed in a hushed tone. “Ain’t nothin’ like this happened when her dad held the role–Sir. Vinehowler knew how to handle his messes.”
The others hummed with her. “Mm-hmm, I told them she was too young, but they didn’t listen. Guess no one listens to old Cathy now–mind gone with her age and looks. Never mind that I have been here since Riverden began. I saw Lord Macefeather take the mantle and build this village from the ground up!”
Mrs. Willby–the youngest of the three ladies–spoke up. “I considered leaving this miserable heap of a town years ago. Even when her dad was the head guard did I consider ditching, but no, my husband just had to insist on starting a business here, and now look at us–Poor as dirt–at least, sir. Vinehowler knew how to keep the pests at bay.”
Mary walked until she could no longer hear the words that cut against her skin. She walked until the edge of the woods that rested between the backs of the houses and the barn was in view. A place where no one else wondered for fear of the creatures that lived inside.
And even then, she walked through the only place that gave her solace.
***
It wasn’t long before Mary decided to take a seat at the base of a giant oak tree. She leaned back against its bark and ran a hand through her fluffy hair with a sigh.
The smell of newly bloomed flowers wafted through the swirling wind. The grass under her was gritty with yellow and the new blooms added pops of pink, blue, and white in the place where green normally reigned supreme.
Spring should be a sign of relief. A sign of winter ending and harvest to come, but she doubted they would get much this year.
Their harvests have been noticeably low for the past few years. Villagers have gone hungry, and trade has all but stilled.
And those stupid pixies have been making it worse–Pulling pranks, stealing, destroying homes, chasing market people away–Mary knew soon she’d have to find at least 60 silver coins, to fork over to that ‘magiologist’ guy to come over, again, and fix the issue, again.
She just doesn’t get it.
The professor–Dr. Layhorn–had been helping the village for years now. Her father was the one who met him and started calling him over to deal with the pest problems the village often had because of the creatures that roamed their woods.
Back then, it only took him two tries before the pests were gone for good–Now it just seems like their pixie problem will never go away, and there’s nothing she can do about it.
It’s driving their already scarce population lower as people leave to find refuge against the pixies.
It all was just so unfair–she had begged her dad for teachings for years, something more than combat–but he never gave her any. Said he would when the time came. Then that stupid mission happened and ripped him away and now everyone is looking to her like she has the decades-long worth of knowledge to run this stupid town, and it’s just–
‘Pathetic,’ was truly the only way she could describe it all. ‘What type of head guard can’t even protect their villagers from glowing pink balls? Let alone another village looking for land–’
A crack tore through her thoughts. Her eyes snapped over to the left.
In the woods, she could hear the sounds continuing–Closer and closer–her mind raced with her heart.
She leaped up and drew her sword from its holster on her waist.
Her head spun as she remembered the tales and stories of the monsters that have plagued these forests since she was a kid. Ones where running meant nothing–your only option was to fight.
She tried to steady her breath as her grip on her sword tightened, her hands shook with fear and anticipation.
Her breaths came out in short, uneven bursts as and–
A light zipped out of the woods before coming to a stop right in front of her.
The blue sphere floated and fluttered. Mocking her and her fear.
She flinched slightly before the anger took its place once more.
“You again? Is there no place you won’t infest?” she accused, frustration rich in her voice.
But as she spoke, something clicked in her mind.
What is a floating creature doing to be making those kinds of snapping sounds–
“GOTCHA!”
A body came lunging out of the woods, arm stretched wide.
Mary jumped back with a startled yelp.
The body enclosed the pixie in a jar and sealed it tight–a wide smile stretching across its face–
It didn’t have time to find its footing, and stumbled forward for a moment.
“Woah!” it shouted as it staggered before finding balance once more.
Finally, the body stood up straight, its eyes focused on the pixie it had in the jar.
Mary could then get a good look at the body–it turned out to be a woman.
She looked the other way. Her blonde hair was fluffy-looking and had pieces tied at the end that were draped over her shoulders while the rest flowed freely down her back, thick enough to cover her ears.
She wore a wide brown hat, a white shirt, and brown leather pants with padding on her knees and elbows. Freckles not only dotted her face but up her arms and neck as well in chaotic and uneven bursts. Her green eyes struck out brightly against her skin, which was tanned by the sun.
Across her body there was a satchel strapped to her. A golden button was used to keep the lid closed, though it was rusted and scratched. Nice leather made up most of her bag, it had patches of cheap frabic sown into it.
It took Mary a few blinks to process the unknown woman in front of her, who was currently smiling wickedly at the caged pixie.
Finally, she gained her composer.
She raised her sword. “Halt, citizen!” she ordered.
Though she had never seen this woman before–it was important that all those in her town’s perimeter were unharmed.
“What you have there is a dangerous creature; I order, for your safety, that you–”
“Of course it’s dangerous–Why do you think I have it in a glyph-protected jar?”
Mary paused at that and looked at the jar. Sure enough, whenever the pixie tried to ram its body against the jar, the glass would light up blue and a marking carved onto the glass would shimmer a deeper blue.
“I see… Still, without the proper knowledge, those creatures should not be handled—”
“I know enough to tell you that you have an infestation–and have had one for a while now; look how big this thing is!”
Mary huffed. ‘I know we have issues and don't need some rando in the woods pointing it out.’
“Right. We’re getting someone out here soon to take care of it–” “Paid?”
Mary blinked. “Yes, paid.”
A smirk crossed her face–the gleam in her eyes made Mary shudder.
“I’ll make you a deal,” the woman said, turning to Mary as she tucked the jar under her arm. “I’ll help you with your pixie problem–for free–if you let me keep one to study.”
Mary opened her mouth to argue–a citizen risking themselves? It was insanity–but then she thought about it.
Whoever this woman was—with her jar and being able to tell that they had an issue based on size alone—it was clear she was knowledgeable on the topic of pixies. If all she wanted was to take one of the awful critters off their hands…
Whether successful or not, what’s the harm in getting a second opinion?
Yet something gnawed at her bring, urging her to refuse. They had Dr. Layhorn, after all, why would they need someone else?
She tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword and went back and forth between the two options.
All the while, the woman stood there, patiently waiting for her answer.
Finally, she gave in.
She sighed. “Alright, then.”
She put her sword away and held out her hand.
“Deal.”
She waited for the other to take her hand–
But quickly regretted her actions when the woman all but squealed in excitement–buzzing with anticipation with stars in her eyes and basically drooling.
“Yes!” she cheered, pumping her fist in the air. “Please, take me to your village at once!”
Mary let out an awkward chuckle. “Yeah… Sure… Right away.”
‘... I think I just made a deal with a crazy person–’
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