Witch Hunt
@hilo--keahi
It was customary for Sullivan to sort of ‘sneak up’ on the Club unannounced; he’d been doing so since he was a young child. Hilo’s impressive rise and fall from glory was told to many Club children, almost like a fairytale. The difference being that Hilo was a ‘real’ living, breathing person whose life choices they were expected to learn from. While much bigger, stronger, more confrontational children sought out the fabled blacksmith, so too did Sullivan. Pale, scrawny, and insatiably curious, the enormous Club had waited with saintly patience until the boy worked up enough courage over the course of numerous weeks, to come close enough to speak to him.
“Can you fix this?” he’d asked the blacksmith, whose back was turned toward him. As always, he’d lingered nearby, out of sight, until it seemed Hilo was distracted by something else. Whether or not he actually startled him, Sullivan wasn’t sure, but he liked to think sometimes he surprised him. Today he held a large jar against his chest, almost hugging it to himself as if it were a precious object of his. It was.
While Hilo painstakingly measured and melted down his jar in order to rebuild it without imperfection, Sullivan settled down nearby and laid the story out fully, dramatically recounting the events from when he acquired the jar until he managed to salvage the treasure from within it. All of which leading up to his ambitious plan to seek out the River Witch. On cue, Hilo offered to accompany him on the dangerous mission, which Sullivan might’ve given away when he replied. “Great! I’m off on Tuesday! See you then!”
Now that it was Tuesday, Sullivan arrived at Hilo’s with an enormous pack on his back. He was dressed much differently than what had become usual for him. No ruffles or shiny buttons; just muted ‘comfortable’ looking attire and sturdy boots. As always, he waited until Hilo’s back was turned before he emerged from around the nearest building.
“Ready to head out?” he asked in a surprisingly cheery tone.