The Quest
The door opens on a field.
A simple enough field, really. There's a few horses perhaps halfway between the door and a stream off in the distance, ahead of them and to the right; on the left, as far away, the darkness of a forest. Between stream and forest there's a smudge on the horizon, perhaps a city or town.
The surprising thing is merely the intensity of everything, as though what lies ahead of them is more real than anything else in the bar, at this moment.
One of the horses lifts its head, turning towards them, and there's a very faint whicker.
A simple enough field, really. There's a few horses perhaps halfway between the door and a stream off in the distance, ahead of them and to the right; on the left, as far away, the darkness of a forest. Between stream and forest there's a smudge on the horizon, perhaps a city or town.
The surprising thing is merely the intensity of everything, as though what lies ahead of them is more real than anything else in the bar, at this moment.
One of the horses lifts its head, turning towards them, and there's a very faint whicker.