Sahrah watched the sun rise slowly, its rays chasing the shadows down the path to where she stood. The crack of dawn had woken her, but she was ready to get a move on anyways - today, or maybe tomorrow, she would reach the isthmus.
It was hard, every day, to collect her things and continue down that path. It had been hard when she left North Village, over a week ago, and it had gotten harder every day, but her resolve was solid. She was certain that it was the only way to deal with the talent she had been cursed with. Going to Mundania...
She caught a butterfly, using it to butter a slice of breadfruit, while she mulled it over yet again in her head. She had thought her worries were over, the day the Storm King died, all those years ago, but she should have known better. Eventually, someone figured out her talent, and spread it around, and then her life had sunk to its lowest point. The talent to grant other people's wishes... why couldn't she summon water, or cause hotseats, or simply make a discolored spot on a wall? Instead, she was subjected to the greed of her fellow villagers. Women wishing to be pretty, to get the man of their dreams, men wishing to be rich, to be magicians, people wishing every day, every time they saw her, and it drained her of energy...
Then one boy wished for her to kiss him.
That was the day she had left. At first, she didn't know where she was going to go. Somewhere - anywhere! - that she could get away from people and their wishes. She'd wandered north, into the forests, and left the enchanted paths to forage in the fields. After a time, though, she'd gotten so lonely... her talent, her curse, kept her away from people, but she desired, so much, to be with her old friends, even with their greed fresh in her memory. Better to have no talent at all, to be magic-less, like a mundane...
That, of course, was the thought that started her down the path north.
Not that she wanted to go to Mundania, that dreary magic-less world, but it was better than having this horrid talent! And better than being alone in the wilderness, with only tangle trees and dragons to keep you company. She'd been worried, on that path, that she might run into someone who'd recognize her, be searching for her... and if they wished for her to come back to North Village with them, she would have to. She couldn't keep herself from granting wishes. And then her life would go back to what it was.
Luckily, she hadn't met anyone at all along the road. It had been a quiet trek, almost peaceful, and despite her loneliness, she had enjoyed it. Now it was almost to a close.
What would she do in Mundania? She didn't really know anything about it, except that it was magic-less. Was it like her home village? Would she make friends, find a place to live, be happy?
She sighed and set out along the trail again, walking towards her future.
As she traveled, Sahrah thought about all she was leaving behind. Her parents, back in North Village... her dreams of visiting Castle Roogna someday... her friends, some closer than others... finally, she couldn't bear more of those thoughts, and turned her attention to the trail in front of her.
It was a bright, beautiful day, and the forest always intrigued her. She passed a strange, rather complex log that seemed to be playing music - a log-a-rhythm. She loved music but was never very good at math, so the purpose of the log-a-rhythm escaped her. Still, it was nice to listen to until she walked too far away to hear it. A little while later, another path crossed the one she was on. She wondered where it went, but when she turned to follow it, she decided she didn't care that much. It wasn't until several steps later that she realized that it was actually a pathy - it made people disinterested and uncaring.
She carried on like this for some time, reveling in the wild puns that infested the forest away from the enchanted paths. She understood that these puns were a result of the magic, and in the back of her mind it made her sad to know that she was leaving them behind, but she ignored that feeling and enjoyed the day while she could.
Near midday she came to a bend in the path and paused. There, a little ways down the path, was a man. He was fit and dressed in a black jumpsuit, with close-cropped hair, and he reminded her of the ex-soldier who lived in North Village - the same body structure, the same way of holding himself. He was staring at her, and she almost turned and ran before realizing that he wasn't someone she knew. Her fear argued with her loneliness, but loneliness won, and with a few deep breaths, she steeled herself and walked forward to say hello.