PROMPT : SPUN
The wooden hut was empty and worn. There were a few signs of life—the stump of a fat candle, wrinkled curtains tied back and heaped coals on the hearth.
“I don’t think anyone’s here, Thatch,” Mika dropped to a crouch beside the giant fireplace. She sniffed cautiously at the woodsy, smoky scent. “At least, not for several hours.”
“We’re too late?” Thatch tugged on his warrior braid. “Mika.”
“I know, I know. We can’t spin without her.”
“I’m not a spinner,” came a quiet, wispy voice from the darkest shadow in the hut. “What’s already spun is spun. I cannot alter that. If you’ve come to have your pasts changed, I’m afraid you’ll need to find yourselves someone else.”
“N-no! That’s not what we’re here for,” Mika stammered, rocking up to her feet. “We really need your help, there’s been a terrible-“
“Sit. Stay. I need to make sure no one followed you.”
“No one followed us,” Thatch said, annoyed. “I checked.”
“And yet you have foreign shadows clinging to you,” the woman glowered. “Sit. Stay. I will be back—provided that you do not touch anything.”
“As if we’d want to,” Thatch grumbled. He reluctantly slouched into a seat at the rough table, when another glare was directed at him. “You do understand what we’re here for, don’t you?”
“I do.” The woman eyed them. “Which is why I’ll clear your shadows before I hear your sad story.”
(c) S. Harricharan