This was a particularly dangerous road, but Tessa had crossed it many times before and had no choice but to do so. The other roads were longer, less direct--and she needed to get to Reajh fast. Desperation and necessity had her chancing the more dangerous path and hoping that this time she was as lucky as she had been the last few times she'd been forced to choose the more dangerous route in favor of speed.
God was with her, and He always provided. He'd protected her before, had given her this second chance, and she had faith that He would now.
That night, wolves had descended upon her flock. She'd been tired and while she was conditioned to sleep light and stay aware even in sleep, exhaustion had made her drift into a deeper sleep than intended. She'd awoken to the panicked bleating of her flock and the snarls and growls of her sheepdog, Fable, as she fought off the pack--which was blessedly small and young and gave up as soon as it got what it had come for.
In the end, she'd lost one lamb and Fable had been injured; she couldn't walk right and had some bad cuts elsewhere, and a lifetime of experience with animals told Tessa that if the wounds weren't properly treated, they could go septic.
And she didn't know what she'd do if she lost that dog; she'd been her companion for the better part of six years, raised from a puppy. She was a gift from God, protecting her when she needed it and keeping her company even when others had rejected her.
"C'mon, girl. Almost there," Tessa called to the dog, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. She could see the city in the distance; maybe an hour more and they'd be there. Fable only whined in response, limping along in obvious misery.
If the dog hadn't weighed almost as much as Tessa did, she would have carried her.
Minutes passed in relative silence with no sign of trouble and Tessa started to relax, though she still remained alert and scanned the flat lands ahead for any signs of danger.
It was only when they reached a bridge that crossed over a small section of stream that the bandits revealed themselves, stepping out from under the cover of the bridge.
There were three of them, and each of them was stocky and well built, a couple with the scars to show they'd done this before and come out on top. And there she was, a lone girl with a small flock, money and meat on legs.
Their grins only broadened when they noticed the mage's mark embroidered onto the breast of her tunic.
"Well hello, little witch," one of the men sneered, hand playing with the dagger at his belt as he approached. "There's a price for crossin', y'know. Time to pay up."
Panic gripped Tessa, but she gripped her crook tightly and backed up slowly. She wasn't defenseless and she'd had to defend herself against trouble before. The problem was that she'd always had Fable to help her and the dog was in no condition to fight.
And the only other defense she had was one she dared not touch. Ever. Not even if the alternative was death.
Better death than damnation.
"S-stay back! I'm warnin' ya!" she said, ready to start swinging if they got close and praying that they wouldn't. She was terrified of them--but terrified of what could happen if she did act. A mage's word wasn't worth much; if she hurt them, she could easily take the fall for it, even beyond what they could inflict on her. It was all too easy to convince others that a mage had used magic in self-defense even if they hadn't, and that was what made her pause, made her lower her crook.
As much as death was better than damnation, she still didn't want to die.
"Or what? You'll bewitch us? Zap us with lightnin'?" The man's grin broadened. "Go ahead. I dare ya."
They closed in, and Tessa said a silent prayer right before she gave Fable the command to attack, what little good it would do and no matter how it terrified her that she might not come out of this.
Everything happens for a reason.
