Sticks, Cloaks, and the Path Ahead

Traveller led the way. Bob followed close behind.

The forest was a maze of strange trees and glowing moss. Bob's short legs had to work hard to keep up with Traveller's long, smooth strides. He watched how the white robe flowed, never seeming to catch on thorns or branches.

Bob tried to copy it. He puffed out his chest and tried to walk with a long, flowing step. His foot caught on a root. He stumbled, pinwheeling his arms, and fell face-first into a soft patch of green moss. It smelled like damp earth.

He heard a quiet sound from ahead. Traveller had stopped and turned, the mouth under the hood curved in a clear smile. "The ground here is tricky. Small steps are better."

Bob got up and brushed the moss off his face. He nodded, then pointed at Traveller's flowing robe.

"You... float."

Traveller chuckled, a soft, warm sound. "Practice. Lots of practice."

They continued walking. After a while, Traveller stopped and pointed at a large, pale blue flower growing by the path. It was beautiful, its petals open like a star.

"Another lesson," Traveller said quietly. "Whisperbloom. Pretty, but sleepy."

Bob tilted his head. "Sleepy?"

"Hold your breath," Traveller instructed. They picked up a small stone and tossed it at the flower. As the stone hit, the Whisperbloom puffed out a cloud of fine, glittering dust. The dust drifted on the air, shimmering in the filtered sunlight.

"Breathe that," Traveller explained, "and you take a very long nap. Maybe forever."

Bob's eyes widened. He took a small step back from the path. He nodded to show he understood. Pretty did not mean safe.

As they walked on, Bob's eyes scanned the ground. He saw a fallen branch. It was thick, straight, and sturdy. It was about the length of his arm. He picked it up. It felt good in his hand. Solid.

He looked at Traveller's side, where the long, thin sword was hidden. Then he looked at the stick in his hand. He held it up, pointing it forward, just as he had seen Traveller's blade.

"Sword!" he declared proudly.

Traveller glanced back, their smile returning. "A fine sword. Every adventurer needs one." They didn't laugh at him. They just accepted it. It was a fact. Bob had a sword now.

For the rest of the walk through the forest, Bob carried his stick-sword with great care.

Finally, the trees began to thin. The light grew brighter. They were reaching the edge of the forest. Traveller stopped under the shade of the last great tree. From a pouch hidden in their robe, they pulled out a folded piece of cloth.

They shook it open. It was a simple cloak, the color of a grey stone. It had a hood, just like Traveller's, but no gold markings.

"Here," Traveller said, holding it out. "For you."

Bob looked at the cloak, then at Traveller. He pointed at himself. "Bob?"

"Yes, for you," Traveller said. "You are... unusual. People might ask questions. This will help you look like just another small person on the road."

Traveller helped Bob put it on. The cloak was a little too big. The hem brushed against the ground, and the hood fell over his eyes. Bob had to push it back to see. It made him look small and mysterious.

Bob looked down at his new grey cloak, then at his stick-sword. He felt very official.

"Ready?" Traveller asked.

Bob pushed his hood back one more time and nodded firmly. "Bob... ready."

Together, they stepped out from the shade of the forest and into the bright light of the two suns. Before them, a dirt path snaked through rolling green hills, leading off into the distance.

The town was somewhere at the end of that path. So was food.

Their journey continued.