Wandering Star

“This isn’t…” the abbess murmured in an uncharacteristically croaky, heavy tone.

Even in her slumber, her gloves had firmly wrapped themselves around the willowy frame of her companion - the medium. 

“Home? Far from it, I’m afraid…” the psychic mused. Thoughts of hurdling ewes and rams slipped further and further away from the nun, much to her audible disdain. “...Let me down.” she grunted. 

The pair had rode on horseback for the past six hours, yet they lost track of time in two.

Their steed slowed, ambling, then trotting and eventually shifting its hind hoof into granular soil as the partners took in their predicament. He turned to face her as they crested a silty drumlin only for her to pull her veil down as the morning star stirred the night from its slumber, revealing ashen sediment that stretched as far as their eyes could see. Ever since they had departed they had been following any semblance of light that lanced through the fog, holding on to the hope that if they could find the edge of the world, they could finally find their way home. 

Here they were. Unfortunately, the world was just as big as they imagined.

The mentalist cognised the vacant expression on his companion’s weathered features to confirm that they were in fact, lost. He tugged at her habit. “Hey.”

No response. “Luce.” He leaned closer. “Lucy-fer, hello?”

“That’s not funny Oz.” Lucy turned to trudge back down the hill but Oswyn called to her. “Oh, don’t be like that. Come back.” Thankfully, her face was no longer in frozen horror, however it was now prominently chagrined. “I want to show you something.”

Lucy didn’t know how, but she found herself sitting cross legged facing Oswyn. 

“Stop fidgeting. Focus,” he asked, eyes closed.

She stifled her discomfort, however she was sure that there would be pebble-shaped prints on her hands and rear when she stood back- what is he doing?

“Can you feel it?”

She took a moment. “...Your hand?”

“What, no - are your eyes closed? Close them… there! I can tell you’re agitated.”

“Wow. You truly are deserving of your title oh Oswyn the Seer. How did you do it?”

Oswyn’s wide smile practically had a sound of its own whenever he cracked it. The worst part was, she couldn’t stop the corners of her lips from stretching across her face, teeth glowing in the morning light.

“Sorry. House secret.”