The joyous event carried well into the following day. Many party-goers retired back to their homes or rented out rooms at the inn for an hour or two of rest before returning to the fray of celebration. Beth was feeling surprisingly good running on very little sleep. She knew cheating on her rest wasn't the smartest thing, especially with her recovery and all, but if she wasn't tired—she wasn't going to sleep, plain and simple. Staying where the party was seemed like a far better idea than just lying in bed listening to everything. Besides, a traveling folk band passed through unexpectedly and was so enamored by the celebration they asked if they could play a few songs in the center of town. Beth never really had the time to sit back, relax, and appreciate music like genuine music lovers do, but she did find something soothing about a good, jaunty tune from time to time. Unfortunately, the three musicians that showed up didn't look like any band she ever saw—or would be interested in, for that matter.
The presumed leader of the trio stood tall and skinny, exuding an eccentric charm. He wore a patchwork linen outfit that added a whimsical touch to his appearance, topped with a small, pointed hat adorned with a vibrant yellow dandelion. His skin had a faded bronze hue, and his pale orange hair, frizzy and shoulder-length, matched his frilly chinstrap beard. His beard wasn't thick like some men; instead, it was surprisingly wispy and lightly bounced in the breeze. When he smiled, Beth couldn't help but notice his large, seemingly healthy teeth despite their off-putting yellow color. "So, this is what a traveling musician looks like, I suppose?" she said under her breath. "Hm. Other than his disheveled appearance, he looks friendly enough, I guess."
Behind him was this much bigger guy wearing buckskin pants and a white muscle shirt. His arms were massive and didn't go with his short legs at all. From his shoulders to his wrists, he was marked in light grey tribal tattoos. Beth had never seen markings like the ones on his arms. His build resembled that of a silverback gorilla more than it did a man, his knuckles resting on the ground even from the standing position. His skin was a strange shade of dark grey, almost like charcoal. Beth couldn't get much of a read on his face because of a red beanie hat the man wore over his eyes. A big bulbous nose poked out from just beneath the brim, followed by a white handlebar mustache that extended from his face and almost reached the ground. The mammoth-sized figure also had a mammoth-sized backpack which was presumably carrying all their instruments.
Finally, there was a skinny black-haired girl who appeared to wish she were anywhere else. She wore dark blue overalls over a weathered red flannel shirt, and her skin was remarkably fairer than her companions', giving her a somewhat sickly appearance. The cuffs of her trousers were cut off, revealing her muddy black combat boots and the tops of her pristine white socks. Her hair fell over one eye, but the visible one was a deep, dark brown.
"Greetings, good citizen. Might you be the proprietor of this fine baking establishment?" the man with the dandelion hat asked Paula, who did, in fact, own the bakery.
"If you mean owner, yeah—I am. Family owned and operated for four generations now."
"Splendid! In that regard, please permit me to conduct introductions!" the man in the dandelion hat did a little curtsy. "My formal moniker is Nutty Longfellow, and I'm the front man of the musically inclined trio that shares my namesake. This colossal thespian here is Durk, and that melancholic Venus is my sister, Sonny."
"Well, it's nice to meet you three," Paula adjusted her little round glasses and gawked at Durk. "He is quite the boy."
"Thank you, ma'am," Durk grumbled. "I come from Kyojin no Shima; the island is small, but everyone there is big."
"The Island of Giants?" Beth muttered to herself. She had never heard of it, but if everyone were as big as this Durk fellow, she'd like to check it out.
"Now that the moment of cordial greetings has passed, may I inquire about a small favor?" Nutty asked.
Paula raised an eyebrow to him. "Uh, I suppose. But can I ask why you talk like that?"
"Like what, pray tale?"
"That," Paula pointed at him. "You say things kind of funny, is all. I'm 62 years old, and I don't think I ever heard anyone use some of those words. Melancholic…thespian…pray tale?"
"We travel a lot. He reads a lot of weird books. You get used to it," Sonny butted in. Her voice was uninspiring and monotoned. How fun she must be at parties, Beth thought.
"My sincerest apologies if my linguistics are disconcerting," he removed his little hat, exposing a puffball of fiery orange hair, and bowed to her.
"Oh, dear, no. You're fine, it's just strange, is all," Paula beamed. "I guess I kind of like it. Now, what did you say a minute ago; you wanted to inquire about something? Like a question?"
"Indeed! Most excellent! Might I be as bold as to obtain your permission to carry out a performance that will satiate the ear canals?"
Paula stared at him with confusion. She played the words through her head again, but slowly—approaching similarly understanding them to flesh out a math problem.
"He wants to know if we can play a few tunes here, in front of your store," Sonny reiterated.
"Please," Durk grumbled, looking at Sonny. "Don't forget to say please."
Sonny rolled her eyes, "Please?"
"Oh! Well, why didn't you just say so? I can find the event organizer, and you see if it's in the budget for the festival," Paula began.
"Oh, no need for that unless it is permission from the organizer to perform that we require to carry out our request. Regarding that of a budget—no monetary compensation needs to be pocketed. The exchanging of payment for services rendered is not something Nutty Longfellow asks."
"You want to play for free?" Paula asked.
Durk stepped forward with his menacing yet somehow friendly stature. "Not free. We play, and if everyone enjoys the show—we get food, drink, and some beds for the night."
"We'll vacate the premises by sun-up yonder day," Nutty added.
"Yonder day?" Paula repeated.
Durk grunted. "Tomorrow."
"Oh," the elderly bakery owner pondered the request and ultimately agreed. "Alright, sure. You can play here. I can't speak for all the store owners, but if the tunes are good enough, I have plenty of baked goods I'd be okay parting ways with. You lot can get set up, and I'll ask around to see who else wants to chip in."
"Oh, happy day! Many thanks! We look forward to satiating your ears and sampling your oven-goods! I employ onto you the humblest of gratitude." Nutty exclaimed, signaling for Durk to put their bag on the ground. "Now, now, my behemoth comrade, on forth to showtime!"
"What an interesting bunch," Beth whispered.
"Who's an interesting bunch?" Harper returned with two turbo cappuccinos, or as the super-caffeinated beverage was more commonly called, turboccinos.
"That traveling folk band over there, I think I heard the one say they were called Nutty Longfellow or something." Beth reached out for her drink, but Harper pulled it back.
She had a concerned glint in her eye. "You sure your heart can handle one of these?"
"Harp—are you sure your face can handle not giving me my coffee?" Beth quipped back with a smirk. Harper just watched. "Sweetie—I'm joking. We've worked in a café together for years—how does the familiar 'not before I had my coffee' trope not dawn on you?"
Harper reluctantly handed the drink over. "Oh, I don't know; maybe it has something to do with trying to cope with the thought of you leaving all of us behind, replaced with the memory of you almost dying a couple of days ago."
Beth sipped her turboccino. "You worry too much."
"One could say you don't worry enough," Harper fired back. The two of them locked eyes while Harper sipped her drink loudly.
"Beth? Harper?" an old but familiar voice called out. "Finally! Geez, for as small as Crest Town is, it sure took forever to find you guys."
"Yayra?" they responded in unison.
"The one and only," Yayra responded.
"Well, there is that fashion model. You know, the one who did that swimsuit photoshoot in the Badlands a few years ago and almost got her arm torn off by a juvenile anchor coyote," Harper recalled.
"Well, I assure you I am not her. I don't have the body to rock swimsuits anymore," Yayra joked. "Besides, that dumbass spelled her name with an 'h' at the end, so technically—I'm still the one and only."
"Ah, come on now—you could most certainly rock a bathing suit. Aside from a few wrinkles, you still look fantastic!" Beth hugged their old friend.
"Good to see you both," Yayra said, shaking hands with Harper next.
Yayra was a striking figure, standing out even in the crowd of unique individuals. With common folk like villagers and farmers making up the masses at the festival, there were only a few who looked like they could fend for themselves in combat if the situation warranted it. Yayra was among the more intimidating crowd. Her heritage was a blend of Japanese and Originin, a mix that lent her an air of both ancient tradition and otherworldly mystique. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes held an uncapped pool of wisdom and experience, a reflection of the many battles she had fought and the countless hardships she had endured. Her once jet-black hair was now riddled with strands of grey and pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Even with its faded luster, it still managed to shimmer with an almost metallic sheen under the sunlight.
Her skin was naturally pale, but you wouldn't know it. Over the decades, it had become more of a canvas for art and history then a protective organ. Most of her back and both of her arms were covered with intricate tattoos, each design telling bits and pieces of her journey and heritage. Across her back sprawled a magnificent dragon, its scales detailed with exquisite precision, its eyes burned fiercely, and despite it being a tattoo, staring into its gaze was enough to make a casual onlooker feel a sense of unease. The dragon's sinuous body coiled around symbols and scenes from both Japanese folklore and the mystical traditions of Origin, creating a seamless blend of the two cultures. It was hard to tell where one story started or ended, but to Yayra, it was all perfectly organized and told one tale—hers.
Her arms were similarly decorated. One arm bore the image of a phoenix rising from the flames, symbolizing rebirth and resilience, surrounded by delicate cherry blossoms that hinted at the fleeting beauty of life. The other arm was covered with intricate Originin glyphs and patterns, their meanings known only to the initiated. Each line and color spoke of battles fought and won, of sacrifices made, and of a heritage that she carried with pride. These symbols seemed to pulse with a life of their own, and the more you looked at them, the more animated they appeared to be. Tattoos weren't uncommon, but the immense detail and intricacy of Yayra's ink were exceptionally rare to come across.
"I can't believe you came all the way here for the festival," Beth remarked.
"Truth be told, I didn't."
A loud, haphazardly played guitar riff cut through the air like an off-tune alarm. "My dearest apologies citizens. Please do not mind us—we are simply getting everything procured for the show." Nutty announced over his microphone. "Check one, check one…"
"Let's go get something to eat in a quieter part of town and catch up; what do ya' say?" Harper suggested.
"Hey! Guys! Did you see that Nutty Longfellow is here!" Justice seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
Harper nearly spilled her drink when Justice accidentally bumped into her. "Dang—hey, kiddo. That was a quick nap."
"Yeah, I couldn't sleep. But seriously. Look over there! It's Nutty Longfellow! I can't believe it! Nutty, Durk, and Sonny are all right here, in Crest Town!" Justice was absolutely fangirling over the sudden arrival of the musical trio.
"You know these jokers?" Yayra asked. She wasn't impressed with their style and unkempt appearances. Yayra wasn't one to cause any trouble over the way someone dressed, but among friends, she was no stranger to speaking freely.
"Yeah," Justice scoffed, sizing up the middle-aged tattooed lady in front of her. "Can't say that I know you though." Strangely, Justice stepped forward defensively.
"Your kid?" Yayra tilted her head to look at Beth.
"Kid?" Beth scoffed.
"So, what if I am?" Justice stepped forward again. The top of her head came the bottom of Yayra's chin.
"Hey, Jus—relax," Beth started.
Harper chuckled, "Hold on. I kind of want to see how this plays out."
"Who is this lady?" Justice asked. Her eyes remained locked on the stranger who stood inches from her face.
"She's an old friend. You could kind of say she was like a mother to me. At least as close to one as I had," Beth put her hand on Justice's shoulder, and the young girl instantly returned to her timid self.
"Oh. I'm s— sorry. I never had a mother, so I'm defensive about the two I have now."
"That's a bit of an overshare for someone you just met, but I totally understand. I'm sorry if I intimidated you in any way. I was simply passing through on a work-related matter and thought I'd stop by. I got here yesterday, but with the festival going on, well—let's just say I got a little sidetracked with everything going on."
"Mic check…mic check," Nutty called out over the speaker system again. Durk pounded out a jaunty-sounding beat on his drum set. There was now a small crowd forming around them, anxious to hear the trio perform.
"So, you mentioned going somewhere to catch up?" Yayra recalled.
"Yeah, we can grab some pizza—" Beth said, instantly thinking about Gorgefest and the rules of the unflattering contest. "Perhaps something a little more on the light side?"
"I passed an orchard on the way in," Yayra suggested.
Beth looked unimpressed at the notion. "You and that three-apples-a-day thing."
"It's early, and I'm already behind," Yayra laughed.
"What about the Nut Hut?" Harper suggested. "It has simple food, coffee, and sandwiches. I'm pretty sure they have apples, too."
Yayra mulled it over briefly, but it seemed like a fair enough plan. "Well, then—the Nut Hut it is."
Harper led the way with Beth and Yayra close behind. Justice didn't move from where she was standing.
"You comin' Jus?" Harper asked.
"Um," Justice's eyes darted back and forth between her friends and Nutty Longfellow. "Do you think we'll make it back before they start?"
"Well, we're just going to be down the street, so if they do begin, you can just walk back here," Harper pointed out.
Justice thought about it. "Okay, I'm in. To the Nut Hut!"
When they arrived at the small bistro, the outside noise was far less interruptive. The rustic decor, with its wooden beams and earthy tones, provided a perfect escape from the ongoing celebration. Beth was still feeling a bit queasy from the earlier recollection of the Gorgefest competition, and the ill-timed consumption of a turboccino on an empty stomach didn't help. She perused the menu while rubbing her belly and grimacing, trying to find anything that looked light and appetizing. "Ugh, I knew that was a bad idea," she muttered as she peered out the window, trying not to think about greasy foods.
"You going to be alright? Perhaps you can just order a bowl of peppermint candies and seltzer water?" Harper teased, settling into her seat. "What about you guys? What are you two gonna' order?"
"I'll have the roasted chickpea and quinoa salad with avocado dressing. It sounds refreshing." Justice shrugged her shoulders happily, still reveling in the fact that Nutty Longfellow was in Crest Town.
"For me—I'll take the tofu and vegetable stir-fry," Harper added. "I need something hearty after all that junk I've been consuming the past few days."
Yayra glanced at the menu, her finger tracing down the list of options. "I'll have the captain's fish platter, but can I substitute the sides for apples?"
The waitress jotted down their orders. "Of course! Fish and apples for the chick with the badass tats."
Beth continued to scan the menu, looking for something suitable. "I think I'll go for the sunflower fry-surprise. Hopefully, it'll be gentle on the ole' gut."
The waitress smiled and collected their menus. "I'll have the cook get started and have these right out for you ladies."
"Thanks," Beth smiled. "So, Yayra, what have you been up to?"
The tatted woman leaned back in her chair. "Well, I've been working as an educational instructor—a teacher of sorts, lately. It's not glamorous, but it pays well and keeps me moving. Before that, I did some mercenary work traveling from town to town, taking on different odd jobs."
The thought of being a mercenary had crossed Justice's mind more than a few times. "What kind of stuff did you do when you were a mercenary?"
"Oh, it varied. Sometimes, I was guarding caravans; other times, I was tracking down dangerous criminals or hunting feral beasts. I rescued a wealthy heiress from a faraway island kingdom once—that was a time, let me tell ya'."
"That sounds intense," Harper said. She squeezed some lemon into her complimentary glass of iced water and took a big sip.
Yayra nodded. "It was. It got a little wild, but it suited me at the time. I loved the freedom, the unpredictability of it all. Not to mention, it gave me a chance to meet some interesting people along the way."
Beth chuckled. "Speaking of interesting people…"
Yayra enjoyed recalling the memory of when she first met Beth. "Ah, now that's a story. You're still arguably the most interesting stranger I have ever come across. Imagine this: I'm on a job, traveling through a desolate region, when I come across a well in the middle of nowhere. There was some debris and concrete and rock scattered everywhere—like it was an old town ravaged by a bomb or something. But the bizarre thing was, warm embers were burning in a nearby campfire, but there wasn't a soul in sight. I started to look around, and I soon discovered a bunch of personal belongings; it looked like there had been a band of campers staying there. It was strange they left all their stuff, but I continued investigating, and you wouldn't believe what I found."
"A baby, Beth?" Justice asked with curious eyes.
"Not quite. I found a bunch of slaughtered highwaymen—thieves who preyed on people traveling unprotected roads. Among the pile of meat and men, there was one young member still alive but clinging to a thread of life. He pointed to the well, and then, with a bloody gargle, he succumbed to his injuries."
"Great imagery before our brunch arrives," Harper quipped.
"Shh," Justice hushed her friend. "This is interesting! What was in the well?"
"At first, I didn't think anything. It was practically dried up, nothing more than mud and puddles—so I dropped a torch in to get a better look. But there was nothing. I went to find a rope or something I could use to lower myself inside, and when I came back—the torch was gone. Once I secured another source of light, I repelled down into the darkness, and that's where I found an odd figure, barely more than a young adult, in rags, with terse hair, stumbling around with no idea how to speak."
"Beth?" Justice asked again.
"Yep. The sight of a strangely-built woman in rags was quite unusual. She was dirty and battered up. At first, I thought she was a daughter to one of the slain highwaymen, but that wasn't the case."
"What happened to the highwaymen?" Harper asked.
"I did," Beth responded. "It was a botched kidnapping attempt gone completely wrong—for them anyway."
"She looked like she'd been through Hell. But there was something in her eyes, a spark, that told me she was a fighter. There was that and stains on her rags."
Beth blushed slightly, but there was a proud smile on her face. "I was a mess, alright. But Yayra here took me in and taught me how to survive. More than that, she taught me how to live."
"It wasn't easy," Yayra continued. "She was a wild, untamed thing, but she learned quickly. And now, look at her—she turned out tougher than most people I know."
Beth blushed a little more, "Oh, stop."
"It's true. I know we haven't spoken in decades, but I have my ways of keeping up with certain current events."
"Is that so?" Beth challenged. She arched her eyebrows, skeptical of the claim. It wasn't like her adventures were in books or newspapers or anything—how could she possibly know much at all about what she had been up to?
"Sure," Yayra replied confidently. "I know about your expedition to the Andromeda Mountain peaks, where you single-handedly discovered ancient ruins thought to be lost forever. And the time you infiltrated the notorious Black Sun Guild to gather intelligence, managing to outwit their most cunning operatives. And let's not forget when you led the charge to liberate the enslaved miners in the Ironclad Caverns."
Beth's eyes widened, but she remained silent, allowing Yayra to continue. "Damn."
"Did you really do all those things?" Justice asked.
"Yeah. I did—" Beth was surprised. "It was almost another lifetime ago, but yeah…"
"I even know about the merger," Yayra added.
Beth's skeptical look softened into one of admiration. "You really have been keeping up."
"Indeed. I've always been proud of your accomplishments, Beth. Even from afar, I've made it a point to follow your journey as best as I could. If I'm being honest here, my life wasn't the greatest when I discovered you."
"What do you mean?" Beth looked surprised to learn that revelation.
"Let's just say my life lacked normalcy. Which isn't bad, I suppose, but at the time, I wanted to start a family. My line of work made it hard to meet any men, and the few that I did come across were intimidated by the kind of person I was and my skillset. The day I found you, I had almost convinced myself that I would be a roamer forever and die alone. But then I dropped down into that well, and everything changed…"
"How long did you too, live together?" Justice asked.
Beth looked down at the condensation on her ice water. "Not long; a few years. After that, I went out on my own. But without Yayra's help, who knows what would have happened to me—or if I'd even be here today?"
Yayra reached over, giving Beth's hand a reassuring squeeze. "You've come a long way, Beth. But I'm not surprised with the woman you've become. You always had that drive—that passion burning behind those beautiful eyes."
When the food arrived, their table was a vibrant display of culinary delights. The waitress laid Beth's appetizer in front of her; the sunflower fry-surprise was an edible work of art. A plate of golden fries was arranged in a circular, disc-like shape, resembling the petals of an open sunflower. In the center was a small bowl of tangy wing sauce; its rich aroma instantly made her mouth water. Thankfully, the quick trip down memory lane seemed to ease Beth's queasy stomach.
Justice's roasted chickpea and quinoa salad was a colorful medley. The crisp chickpeas were nestled on a bed of fluffy quinoa dotted with bright cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and a generous helping of creamy avocado dressing. Fresh herbs sprinkled on top added a burst of green.
Harper's tofu and vegetable stir-fry was a rainbow on a plate. Crisp, vibrant vegetables, all organized by color in a cascading effect—bell peppers, snap peas, and carrots mixed with golden cubes of tofu, all glistening with a savory balsamic glaze.
Yayra's captain's fish platter was a more subdued entrée. Delicate slices of seared fish were artfully arranged on a simple white plate, accompanied by a sizeable helping of crisp apple slices on the side. The presentation was minimalist, almost austere—but it was precisely what Yayra was looking for.
Harper couldn't resist a comment. "Your meal looks so plain compared to ours. Fish and apples?"
"So?" Yayra responded.
"I'm sorry—I'm sure it's delicious, but I just thought someone as mysterious and colorful as you would have a more interesting taste in food, that's all."
Yayra raised an eyebrow. "To me, your dish looks like a garden exploded on your plate. Are you sure you didn't accidentally order a centerpiece?"
Justice burst into laughter, and as she did, a spray of chocolate milk shot out of her nose, causing the entire table to erupt in giggles. After the laugh, everyone dug into their meals.
It wasn't long before the waitress returned, carrying a large, intricately decorated cake that looked like it had been conjured from a fairy tale. Its base was a deep, velvety chocolate layered with alternating tiers of golden sponge and rich, creamy filling. Each layer was separated by a thin, shimmering sheet of edible gold leaf, giving the cake an otherworldly glow. The sides of the cake were adorned with delicate sugar flowers, their petals painstakingly crafted to resemble blooming roses and lilies. Tiny edible pearls were scattered across the surface, catching the light and adding a touch of elegance. The top of the cake was crowned with a miniature edible sculpture of Beth holding a White Moon Café sign—on the base was an edible depiction of a mythical dragon entwined with a phoenix.
"I think they made my butt a bit too small," Beth jested quietly, mostly to herself.
"In light of the festival, we here at the Nut Hut would like to offer you this unique dessert on the house," the waitress said with a warm smile, stepping back to admire the group's reaction.
As the server set the cake down on the table, she presented a glass shaker of what looked like glowing glitter. "This ingredient is called shimmer of stardust," she explained as she sprinkled it across the top, adding to its enchanting appearance. The cake was a marvel to behold, a masterpiece of confectionery art. It shimmered like stars in the twilight sky on the clearest of nights.
The friends stared in awe, momentarily speechless.
"Wow," Harper finally whispered, leaning in for a closer look. "This is...incredible."
Beth's eyes were wide with wonder. "I've never seen anything like it. It's almost too beautiful to eat."
Yayra, always the pragmatic one, picked up a knife. "Almost," she repeated with a devilish grin. "But I think we can manage."
As she sliced into the cake, the rich aroma of chocolate and vanilla filled the air, and the friends eagerly pushed their unfinished meals out of the way and reached for their dessert plates. The four of them dug into the enchanting cake as Yayra began to share more about herself. "Although my life isn't as hectic as it once was, I still find time to enjoy the simpler things. You know, I've settled down in a small town—it's quiet and nice."
Beth's initial reaction was one of disbelief. "I still can't believe that you're just a history teacher now. I mean, you've always been a great teacher, but that's quite a change from the mercenary life."
Yayra took a small bite of the cake. "It is. But it felt right after so many years of wandering. I immersed myself in books, learning everything I could about everything I could. It's part-time, though. My main responsibility is still managing the Tuthic name."
"You definitely raised me to be a 'do-no-harm-but-take-no-shit' type of woman, so I can only imagine how you are to your students," Beth said while sampling a spoonful of cake.
The remark caused Yayra to smile. "I've lightened up a little bit in my years. I've tried to pass on the strength and resilience—two traits that you were always very dominant in." Yayra added, still recalling her years spent with a younger Beth.
Justice was shoveling the delicious cake into her mouth, but she still had questions about the newcomer. "Who's teaching your class if you're here?" she asked with a mouthful of dessert.
"It's the vacation season for schools in my area right now, hence why I'm out and about."
"How do you know Harper?" Justice fired back with another inquiry.
"I came through Crest Town back when the café first opened. I wanted to visit with Beth, but she was away doing what it is that she does. I stuck around for a few days and got to know Harper."
"Oh," Justice seemed satisfied with the answers and went back to eating. She occasionally peeked out the window to see if Nutty Longfellow had started performing yet, but all she found was a much larger crowd gathering down the street for the show.
"What's this tunic thing you mentioned?" Harper said, never hearing any mention of it before.
"Well, my knowledge of history has influenced the design of modern tunics," Yayra explained. "I wanted to create something that felt authentic, something that carried the essence of our past while being practical enough for today and beyond. You'd be surprised how important good clothes are when you're out on the job. So, I designed tunics with an older feel but using durable, more modern materials."
Beth's fingers traced the fabric of her Yayra's tunic. "Fancy-shmancy," she joked, wholesomely impressed with the seam-work.
"I even looked into the lore of legends for inspiration, referencing an ancient hero's armor known as the 'Traveler's Tunic."
"Traveler's Tunic? Where have I heard that before?" Justice paused her demolition of the cake.
"It's an old tale, one that has been told around many campfires and even more taverns. The hero was someone who went by the name of Ember," Yayra began. "And to be honest, finding information about her was no easy task. It took a lot of digging through ancient texts and forgotten scrolls. But everything I found, I managed to jot down. I'm putting together a book full of tales from years past and fleeting lore stories. Right now, it's kind of a mess, but it's a labor of love. Remind me to show it to you later, I have it back at the inn I'm staying at."
"That's so cool! I feel like I've heard the story of Ember before, but it's all a little foggy." Justice recalled.
"I have the chapter notes with me now. If you'd like—I can read what I have so far," Yayra suggested.
"Go for it," Beth encouraged.
"Okay folks, bear with me, it's a work in progress," Yayra pulled out the rolled scrolls from her back pocket and began reading…