The Deal

Chapter 4: Preparations and Partings

The decision to leave Elmswood was not taken lightly. For Joren and Milla, the following days were consumed by a flurry of preparations, each task performed with a sense of urgency that neither had felt before. They gathered supplies—dried food, water containers, old maps that could guide them, and tools that might be needed on the road. Each item was carefully chosen, weighed for its necessity and utility.

Joren spent long hours with Mr. Dalen, the village blacksmith and the closest thing he had to a mentor after his grandfather. The old blacksmith's workshop was cluttered with the tools of his trade and the smell of iron and sweat. Mr. Dalen, his hands as gnarled as the wood he worked beside, imparted every piece of wisdom he could think of. He adjusted the straps of the backpacks for better weight distribution, sharpened a small, sturdy blade for Joren, and even threw in a flint and steel.

"Remember, boy, the world out there is not like our village. You'll meet folks who've never seen the drought like we have, and others who've seen worse," Mr. Dalen said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Joren listened intently, absorbing every word while his hands worked, packing and repacking his gear. He felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension, a duality that kept him awake at nights, staring at the ceiling of his small home.

Milla, on the other hand, spent her time with the village healer, an elderly woman named Henna, who taught her the basics of herb lore and first aid. Henna's hut smelled of dried lavender and rosemary, and her shelves were lined with jars of poultices and tinctures. She had a gentle way of explaining things, making each lesson feel like a small treasure.

"Nature is a powerful ally if you know how to ask for its help," Henna told Milla as she handed her a small, tightly sealed jar of healing salve. "Take this. It's good for cuts and bruises. And keep an eye on Joren; he acts tougher than he is."

Milla smiled, tucking the jar into her bag. "I always do."

Their final night in Elmswood arrived quicker than either of them had anticipated. The village held a small farewell gathering in the square. It was a bittersweet event, filled with well-wishes and more than a few tears. Mara, Joren's mother, stood by quietly most of the night. When it came time to say goodbye, her voice broke with emotion.

"You must find what we have lost, Joren," she said, clutching him in a tight embrace. "Not just for us, but for yourself. You have always been meant for more than this place."

Joren hugged her back, feeling the warmth of her body and the strength of her words. "I will come back, Mother. With answers."

As the stars blinked into view, the villagers began to drift away, leaving Joren and Milla standing in the now quiet square. They looked at each other, their faces illuminated by the light of a single lantern that flickered between them.

"Ready?" Joren asked, his voice steady.

Milla nodded, her bag already slung over her shoulder. "As I'll ever be."

With a final look back at the village that had been their world, they stepped out of the light of the lantern and into the darkness, guided by the faint glow of the compass in Joren's hand and the promise of discovery that lay somewhere beyond the familiar horizon.