I’m awoken by shouts and a pounding on the door. Blearily my eyes open, struggling to take in the details of the dingy room through the sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the walls. My head pounds from all the drinks of last night taking their toll now. My mind struggles to piece together what happened, passing over the two naked bodies in bed with me, the sheets half covering their forms. None of it immediately makes sense, the shouts and pounding getting more insistent and making my head throb even harder. The sound of the door frame cracking helps jolt everything into place

“Not again,” I mumble. Instincts take over and I bolt out of bed, haphazardly throwing my pants on and gathering the rest of my clothes in my arms. My rapier bashes against my shin, drawing a curse from my lips. Frantically I scan the room, and praise every god I can think of that the me from last night had the foresight to choose a room with a window. It’s a matter of seconds to unlock the shutters, and with a quick grab of my lute I was free!

The resounding crash as I rebounded off the stuck shutters fully roused the sleeping women. Their shrieks of alarm mixed with my very fluent cursing led to the efforts outside the door being redoubled. I could now see several red faced men through the thoroughly broken door, a single bolt holding valiantly against the onslaught. Scampering undignified across the floor to gather my scattered belongings, I decided discretion was fully out the window so to speak.

A sharp whistle blasted the window from its frame. Glass shards and scrap wood rained into the dingy alley. The women screamed at the sudden violence, the men at the door screamed at the women’s screams, and I took that as my cue to leave. Credit to whoever crafted that lock for lasting this long but it was on its last legs and I would rather be elsewhere when it finally gave. A wink over my shoulder and the bed and aa quick laugh and I was out.

My legs gave out against the unforgiving cobbles. Thankfully it seemed like I’d avoided major injury and welcomed the minor pain shooting through my knees. I t galvanized my thoughts and made my escape that much quicker. Heads popped out of the shattered window and shouted instructions to unseen others. I took a moment making myself presentable before limping out of the alley. Hood up, I blended into the early morning traffic around the market.

My eyes were on a swivel while I kept my pace reasonable trying not to draw attention to myself. Everywhere I could see enraged farmers roughly stopping anyone who looked even remotely guilty. Guards were being alerted by the outraged noises, creating an even bigger distraction I could use to escape. I took my time, moving nonchalantly towards the gate. I even stopped at a few merchants to replenish some supplies I was running low on.

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“Slow is smooth, smooth is fast,” I muttered under my breath. If you don’t look guilty you’re less likely to be treated as guilty. Doesn’t work in every situation, but in this case it would work admirably.

The next obstacle came at the gate itself. Seems like they posted some men to head me off. Thankfully the presence of the guards kept them from more direct search, but they still watched everyone like a hawk. A little distraction was in order and thankfully I had just the thing in mind. Carts bringing produce to market were lined up waiting inspection to get in. While I would regret causing others trouble I needed to get out soon.

Lips pursed I whistled up a jaunty tune. The oxen pulling the carts became restless. Drivers immediately went to calm then down, guards rushing to see what the commotion was, and the watchers drawn to the commotion. Carts crashed into one another, produce spilled on the ground, and shouts of pain and frustration erupted from the mess. I used the better then expected distraction to slip put the gates. Soon the town was a shrinking mass behind me and I mentally marked another place on the map I’d have to avoid for a while. Pickings were getting slim on this stretch of road and I’d have to move to another trade route.

For most, the forest is a frightening place full of fae and demons. There were even reports of some hapless person being dragged away near the Theocracy. Bards like me, on the other hand, feared little. The stories wouldn’t allow it until they finally did. We had ways of telling when that happened though and today was not my time. I found a small copse to make camp for the night. An outcropping of rock made the perfect place to keep any wind and weather off me and there was plenty of dead wood around to keep my fire burning all night.

Going through the motions of setting up camp allowed the adrenaline to drain from me. Soon my hands were shaking, and breathing was becoming difficult. The damn magic got me in trouble AGAIN. A panic attack was settling in. I could still feel them on me. I needed to find a stream. A lake. A puddle. ANYTHING. Panic was fully on me, my hands fumbling the ties of my oilcloth. The trees seemed to narrow and my chest hurts; the pain in my knees was a distant concern. Breath was short. I couldn’t stop shaking. Again. It happened again. Why did this keep happening? Why was I like this? Why? WHY?!?

A sharp slap resounded in the clearing. My cheek hurt now, my hand seeming to drop of its own accord. The pain centered me. It always did. I drew my work knife and lifted my shirt. A clean row of fresh scars marked my torso, and soon a new weeping wound joined them. Pain. Blissful pain. Everything came back to focus. Deep breaths. Soon I got back to the task at hand. Oil cloth went up , bedroll went down. A small pile of wood next to a hastily built fire pit. Normalcy.

Night came eventually. The fire popped merrily, and I cleaned myself the best I could with a canteen and a rag. Stew bubbled away filling the clearing with domestic smells. After food I banked the fire and rolled into bed. Night sounds started to lull me to sleep. Stars twinkled overhead. Everything was normal. Everything was alright. I curled into a tiny ball and cried myself to sleep.