Gods and Monsters | Closed to Junkenghoul
The witch stood back several feet from the large wagon door, watching her escort attempt to dig out a ring of keys from deep within his pocket. The faint suspicion that he was intentionally prolonging the task was prickling in the back of her mind; as evidenced by the subtle shaking of his hands, and the light sheen of sweat upon his brow. What was it that had the man so on edge? It had only been three days since her last visit to the carnival, and that time her escort had been irritatingly talkative. Prattling on about how business was so lucrative since they acquired the monster that they were intending to put down permanent structures.
In her forest.
The temptation to burn every inch of this place to the ground was ever steadily rising.
When her escort finally managed to unlock the multiple padlocks on the wagon door, the thick, pungent odor of dirt and decay wafted out into chilled air. Such scents did not disturb her so much as the acrid stench of unskilled magics that overpowered everything else. It was offensive in every sense of the word, causing her to physically recoil away from the open door; the contents of the wooden basket in the crook of her arm clinking together softly.
The witch’s escort mumbled something under his breath, not particularly bothered by her reaction, and turned on his heel to face his charge. Roughly, he grabbed her free hand and placed a small object in her palm before gesturing anxiously for her to go inside. She complied, examining the object in her hand as she idly climbed the small steps upward toward the entrance. It was a key; too small for the wagon padlocks, but the man had given her no indication of what it would be used for. No sooner had she crossed the threshold into the structure did her escort slam the door shut behind her, effectively locking her inside before she could inquire about the key.
The wagon was dimly lit by the small slivers of light filtering through holes in the rotted planks of wood, enough to move around without incident, but not ideal for lengthy visits. Mercy turned her gaze towards the darkest corner of the room, her eyes straining out to make out the telltale shape of the creature she came to see. In no particular hurry, she placed her basket on the floor beside her feet, keeping the small key tucked away in her hand for now.
“Surprised?” Her voice was soft, as though she were addressing a frightened animal caught in a trap.
