>>5295738You get as close to the bramble as you can without arousing suspicion. The reaction was easy enough, essentially just moving some branches. Trying to stealthily draw an alchemist circle however, is something you have not yet mastered. You perform the reaction well enough in the end, and you hear a whimper as the brush snaps around the figure behind you. You move to the bramble and you can see the figure clearly.
You see a young girl, disheveled and scared. She appeared to have been living in the woods for a long time. Her brown hair is dirty, and her white dress is torn and dirty. She is barefoot, and her legs are bruised and scraped. Your jaw drops; you had been expecting the farmer’s rival, or some other saboteur, but this was a child.
“Well, hello. What’s your name?”
“Hmmph.” She turns her chin up and closes her eyes.
“I know you want to be let out, but I can’t do that until I know who you are and why you’re here,” you plead.
“Fine. I am Isabella, and I live here, is that good enough?” She definitely had more than enough cheek for the two of you.
“You live here? In the woods? Do you know Mr. Buscua over there?” You look back at Buscua, only to see that he has left. Fickle old man. “Well, he was there. He owns this land.”
“Yes, I live here. But I don’t know him.” She looked a little sad at that.
“Do you know anything about this?” You pulled the vial of Black Rot from your bag. You bring it to your face and are surprised to see that there is nothing inside the vial.
“That vial? No, I don’t know anything about it. Are you mad?”
“No, no, there was something inside this vial. How strange. If I let you out, will you follow me and tell me what you know?”
“If I must. I don’t really have a choice.” You begin to tear the bramble from her arms and legs. Once she is free, she stands up and brushes herself off. As you walk back to the pumpkin patch, you notice that she has a slight limp.
In the pumpkin patch, the damage remains, but the Black Rot is gone. Your mind wanders at how this is possible. You knew that the rot came and went, but you didn’t think it was this fast.
You pick up a rotted pumpkin and inspect it. There is no Black Rot visible, although it would certainly not be harvestable. You felt pity for Mr. Buscua.
“I don’t see anything Mister. What’s your name by the way?” The girl looks at you with her hands on her hips.
“I’m Sulli, the village alchemist. I… don’t know what’s going on here. These pumpkins were diseased not even five minutes ago.” Isabella says nothing, but picks one of the crops up.
The sky has turned a beautiful pink and orange. The sun was beginning to set. You pitied the girl, who would go back into the forest tonight and sleep on the dirt. That was no life for a maiden.
(1/2)
