Flash Fiction

It was definitively autumn. The rain cascaded, the ground was like mud underfoot. The browning leaves and the redundant poppy heads had finally given in, overcome by lack of enthusiasm. She walked on avoiding the muddiest patches, using her staff to test for hidden depths. Her cloak kept the worst of the rain at bay, but some seeped through. She shivered occasionally and at times wondered if she should cast a warming spell. A waste, she thought, best conserve her energies. Anyway, her svelte and lightly muscled body could handle plenty more if she applied herself.

In the late afternoon as she reached the brow of a small hill, she saw the village below. Smoke from the village chimneys formed a cover in a vain attempt to hold back the rain. She knew that when she reached it the folk of the village would stream out to meet her, bringing with them all their woes.

Now she remembered why she had been conserving her rare energy.