#jackdraw-spwrite

“I may,” said Legundo, and went digging in his pack. “But likely nothing stronger than some herbal teas, I’m afraid. It’s been some time since I was in a town large enough for a pharmacy.”

“Then that’s all right.” Her hand, clawed from rheumatism, came down on his forearm. “I’m used to the aches, and I’ve plenty of tea!” She cackled at some private joke. “Now, there’s the matter of payment.”

“You don’t need to pay me, Ma’am.”

She hummed, skepticism clear in the line of her lips. “Fine. But if you won’t let me pay you, at least let me give you a service in return.”

Legundo glanced at the wagon nearby. It was covered in a lurid magenta, with an enormous eye in peeling paint on the side. “That’s alright,” he said, and closed his bag.

“Nonsense,” she said. “It’s the least I could do, isn’t it? The service of one professional for another.”

Before he could object again, she grabbed him by the hand and stumped over to the back of her wagon, hauling him along with a surprising grip. She only released him to haul herself up into the wagon with her arms alone, completely forestalling another offer of help.

“Up,” she said, and slapped the wood.

Well. He could humor a patient before he continued on. Legundo clambered in after her, crouching to fit in the small space.

“Are you going to read my palm?” He asked, glancing around.

The inside of the wagon was covered in fabrics and heavy with incense. Glass baubles hung from the ceiling in groups, catching the light coming in from the summer day outside.

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear” said the old woman. “Do I look like a palmister? No. Throw these onto the table,” she said, and handed him a bundle of pale sticks, strangely light in his hand.

He frowned at them. “Bone?” he asked.

“Of course.” She gestured again at the table.

Legundo examined the bones with bemusement, noting the marks carved into them. He tossed them, and they tumbled into a chaotic arrangement on the table.

The old woman was in her element, though. She leaned forward, squinting as she examined each bone where it fell, making little noises of concentration.

Ah, superstitions.

After a few minutes of this, he said, “I feel almost a if there should be candles lit for this sort of thing.”

She waved a hand at him. “Ssssh. You don’t want the theatrics and you’re not paying for them, anyhow. Let me read.”

So even she admitted some of her trade was for show.

A smile twitched at his lips before he wiped it off – he wasn’t so rude to deny a patient their beliefs to their face – and sat back to let her finish her inspection of the bones. Even if he didn’t appreciate her scam, he could certainly appreciate the shade her wagon offered. The summer was fading towards autumn, but the afternoon sun was still plenty hot enough make him sweat.

A light breeze ruffled some of the curtains, swayed the little glass baubles. In the distance, he thought he could hear a carriage approaching.

“Oh dear,” said the old woman.

“Oh dear?” asked Legundo.

“Yes, oh dear. It seems you’re going to get yourself into some trouble, young man.”

“I am hardly young.”

She grinned at him. “Get to my age, and then we’ll talk.”

“I’m not sure you’ll be in talking shape by then,” he said.

She threw her head back and cackled. “Oh, I like you. Pity about what’s going to happen.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. I won’t spoil it for you, a man of science like you wouldn’t believe an old crone like me anyway. Just let me give you one piece of advice, and I’ll let you be on your way.”

“What’s that?”

Suddenly grave, she reached out and wrapped his hand with her own. “Don’t go chasing your reflection. You’ll drown.”

Legundo’s perplexity must have shown on his face, because she gave his hands a squeeze. “I mean it,” she said.

He withdrew his hands, frown pulling one eyebrow over his monocle. “I…suppose I can keep a eye out around bodies of water.”

“Good boy. Now off you go!” She waved him out.

“I haven’t been a boy in thirty five years.”

“Sure you haven’t. Shoo! You have places to be.”

“Nowhere urgent,” he said, but let himself drop to the ground.

“Shoo!” The old woman repeated. Her hand fluttered in the shadows of her wagon.

Legundo shooed.

He’d found the old woman and her wagon along a country road, and now he set back down it. The mid afternoon sun was unpleasantly warm, but only so long as he pressed himself. He could enjoy a more moderate pace instead; the next town was only three kilometers away, so he would still get there in time to find lodging for the night.

From there, he could likely hitch a ride along one of the roads that ran near Oakhurst.

Mind already running through ideas for his research, Legundo left the thought of the old woman’s warning behind him, along with the sight of her wagon.

(I blame @tytach. I am totally innocent in this wild interpretation of your lineart.)

Totally.

cough.

I was figuring out values for the composition by painting with a desaturation filter active, and it looked like the left image. And then I removed the filter and got the right.

And then Tytach said it had coral vibes, and things naturally escalated out of control immediately.