Chapter Text
There was a strange forest between Parthevia and Artemyra. An endless ocean of green with various unexplored animals and plants. It is said only a few selected people are able to wander through it without getting lost and losing their mind. Those brave enough to enter quickly learn it truly is endless, because they are unable to get out alone.
Near this forest is a village that lives by the selling of all these mysterious herbs, fruits, and animals that they harvest from it. The people know the forest better than any other place they have been to, keeping the tradition of passing that knowledge onto their children. But even after hundreds of years, they still felt like they had not even scratched the surface.
Even during the time of the dungeons, the villagers were sure the forest could compete without much effort. Mysteries stacked up on mysteries, topped with danger as a side dish.
Like most cliché villages, there are the typical people you can meet: the all-knowing bartender, the town princess, and, of course, the outcast. But the outcast was something special. Something they all couldn’t quite explain.
A woman with black hair that is right above her shoulders, half of it tied in a knot at the back of her head. Black eyes that look like the pit of the void. Dressed in a worn-out white pirate shirt and a long green skirt. With her is always a small black kitten with red eyes.
Sometimes she looks like she's out of a fairytale story, with freshly washed and almost translucent skin. Light freckles, only visible if you look close enough. Tiny hints of shining scars across her body. Nails a little longer, clean, and at times colored.
Other times her hair is shiny from the lack of care, and you could smell if she was coming your way from miles away. Her eyes are more hollow and deprived of light than usual. Her hair would be a mess and at times even matted. Grime and dirt clinging onto her skin. Only her nails remained taken care of, neat, clean, and lovely colored.
The village truly didn't like her.
Not because of her lack of hygiene on some days or because she is the definition of a siren. Pretty and catching men into her net of lovesick sweetness, she didn’t reciprocate.
But because she is simply a strange person. Someone different from the masses. A person you looked at and just knew deep down it would be a bad idea to trust her.
When she first appeared, she helped everyone without the demand of something in return. Whether it was helping with taking care of children or building a house, everyone could always count on her help.
But why was she such an outcast by now? The gut feeling must have been proven wrong by a landslide. Who in their right mind would dismiss someone who is reliable and caring in their own way?
Perhaps it was her lack of interest in everything people needed to live. She had no job, and all the things she could sell were simply given away without a second glance. All the things she needs, she collects from the forest or builds herself as an art project.
All political views of her were shrugged off with a simple “They are all corrupt; don't bother me with it.”
She simply did not care. If Care were a person, it would be the opposite of her.
Even though the people of the village started resenting her not long after, she was allowed to stay in her hut in the forest and occasionally visit them for her help. In the end no one could deny her skills and free help.
Why would anyone care for a helpful tool that doesn't complain?
A tool.
Replaceable.
Useless if broken.
In the early morning glow the forest was damp with the first drops of the morning dew. The air is chilly, and all the animals who fell asleep the night before woke up again to roam through the endless green.
Sun rays find their way through the leaves, down into the cold dirt, creating a mosaic of light.
Slowly the sun starts warming up the forest floor with the golden light. The dew starts evaporating into thin air, leaving only the pleasant smell of a fresh day.
The moist moss felt cold on her feet. Her breath creates a pattern of smoke.
Stretching her arms widely, she let out a groan in delight. Watchful eyes scan the empty forest; something bothered her. Otherwise she wouldn’t look around so carefully.
A tired yawn escaped her chapped lips. Early mornings still made her feel more tired than awake. She really could not understand how people are willing to wake up with the sun when instead they could focus on relaxing in a peaceful environment all day long. Not that she wasn’t the type of person to wake up ungodly early, but it remained a mystery why. She didn’t have any responsibility; why bother coming and going with the sun?
The tiny black fluff ball named Nyx looked just as tired as her friend. Little paws ghosting over the ground in a lazy attempt to continue standing straight up. With a somewhat loud meow, quieter than a glass that broke, she agreed that early mornings are the worst.
Despite the lack of excitement from the two, they continued with their daily routines. Which meant collecting all sorts of herbs and food they could find. Wandering through the pathless ways, they wandered so many times now. Their presence was welcomed by the animal kingdom instead of being feared like the first time.
One could argue that they are a minor part of the interior. They would be missed if they disappeared but never forgotten.
The two were calm and respectful. They lived in the circle of life, never taking more than necessary. Naturally, this magical forest welcomed them almost instantly.
Ever since she arrived in this magical forest, she has felt nothing but—.
A lack of something greater. Something to give her this adrenaline kick she desperately needed. This tiny spark of adventure that leaves you gasping for air and more. The one drug that keeps you addicted and as healthy as can be. This thing she avoided and craved unhealthily.
The last adventure was a war she got herself accidentally wrapped in when she visited Parthevia on a mission to find some good fish skin. How long ago was that? Truly it didn’t matter, yet she wondered. This forest CAN make the mind go hazy. Because the mushrooms that grow here let out a light dose of spores you can often find in… Magic Mushrooms.
She stopped considering war as a good time killer long ago, though. And she doubted beyond this dull life she would ever find something good again.
Though boredom would be just as much pain as getting a bomb blown in your face after you accidentally set off an entire bomb chain because you needed some fresh air after you set off a fight between comrades because they stole your pillow and you are this petty…
Not at all.
When the sun starts to rise to its highest point, all the work is finished, and there would be enough time to relax and wait for the sun to rise again. Just to do it all over again.
Curled up on the ground in the clearing, the woman fell fast asleep. Nyx curled up on her chest, deep in slumber.
The birds chirped a happy tune, and some foxes strolled by, nudging the sleeping figure before running away, laughing as they played catch.
A sudden shadow covering the warm blanket of the sun made her stir in her sleep. Nyx jumped off her chest as soon as she stirred. A meow of protest before Nyx ran off. Curling up tighter before reluctantly opening her eyes to see who disturbed her and Nyx’s nap.
Purple.
The young boy was not even standing close to her, but he was standing just at the perfect angle to stop the light from falling down. Breaking off the warning light.
He stopped in his tracks like a deer in headlights. His mouth slightly opened as he stared down. His golden eyes meet the void with no reflection of light.
They both didn't know how long it took before they stopped their mutual staring, just that it did not matter because the time stopped at that moment, at the very least for them.
“Hello,” he stepped closer. “My name is Sinbad. My deepest apologies for interrupting, but me and my friends need help.”
She stared at him for another moment before pushing herself up onto her shaking legs. “It's my friends and I” she corrected.
“I am Corey; how can I help?”
“It's not broken, just overstretched,” Corey said while examining the ankle of the one who introduced himself as Mystras. Her cold hands leave the warm skin as she pushes herself back up. “I have something you can put on it for the pain.”
Mystras looked relieved as he heard his seemingly broken ankle was in fact just panicking at the moment. “Oh, thank god.”
Ever since they went inside of her little home, Sinbad could not help himself and continued staring at the woman. This was quite the obvious observation, and his right-hand man, Jafar, punched him in the side and gave him a warning look.
He suppressed his pained groan, holding his side as he crouched in pain.
“Quite the feat venturing through the forest alone,” she commented as she mixed something up, a sort of cream as far as they could tell.
Sinbad laughed. “Oh well, we heard something about a witch living here and wanted to meet her; it sounded like an adventure.”
She stilled in her movements, staring out the kitchen window. Closing her eyes and taking a breath, she regained her composure. She turns around, walking back over to Mystras to put the cream on his ankle.
“You guys are perhaps the luckiest or dumbest people I have met in a while.” Her cold hands made Mystras shiver. “Not even a god would want to wander through here.”
“A god?” Jafar asked, “Do they even exist?” Of course Mystras disagreed; his home country is very religious. Only Jafar had his doubts. Many people tried to avoid this subject of whether gods existed or not. Jafar was apparently on the opposite side of that spectrum.
To deescalate the situation, even if only for a moment, Sinbad added, “I did hear every country has a god working in politics.”
“My, my, I did not expect a simple, mindless statement to be taken so seriously,” she mumbled; everyone heard.
The tall Imuchakk warrior, who barely fit into the hut even while leaning down, also had something to say on the matter: “I can only say that my country has one, a little lazy, but still he exists.”
Corey was by far not one to just kick out people who needed help. But perhaps she should try changing the subject into something a little more lighthearted. A discussion about otherworldly beings was just a tad too much in the early mornings, for her taste, of course.
“I can show you the village. I suppose this is either where you came from or wanted to visit, correct?” Corey looked over the crowd while wiping off her hands on the apron she put on earlier.
Sinbad smiled. “That would be greatly appreciated.”
Here we go again…
“Of course, only if this is no trouble for you, Corey.”
“Hardly, after this discussion I’d rather you not stay here.” Cold-hearted truth left her lips, and the four men were quite surprised at the honesty. Though two were more surprised about something else. “You can walk normally, by the way, though no recommendation to put too much strain on it.”
Despite the cold answer she gave them, she made no shortage of an effort to get them safe and sound to the village near the forest entrance. That showed especially when she kicked every little branch and rock off the path. At that moment the group noticed that she was not wearing anything protective for her feet. So after a few obstacles being kicked away, they noticed the flesh opening and leaking the tiniest bit of blood. But not every obstacle was met with her kick of doom; sometimes she used the long wooden stick to push something to the side. At the very top of the walking stick was cloth wrapped around. It looked old and worn. Just like the other end that was carelessly scraped over the ground. Splintered, dirty, and this kind of stumped-down wood that had no care and was extremely old.
“Here we have the village of the Honeycrisp forest. There is only one tavern with rooms to sleep in. They rarely get any tourists, so it usually works just fine.” Corey introduces the village with no hint of interest. Like an office worker that only had one singular job and could not fake excitement, “They also have very good food.”
“Any suggestions?” they ask.
“No”
“Can we invite you to some dinner later? You helped us greatly, and it would be rude not to show our thanks.” Jafar asked and was met with hesitation. Of course they didn't know her that long, but the slight wrinkle of her face into hesitation was strange to see. Did she even move her face muscles once since they met?
It took a few moments for her to come up with an answer, but before she could tell them, Sinbad was already pushing her towards the tavern. “Nonsense! Be our guest; you helped my friends and me after all.”
As they entered, the eyes of the people inside were glazed with curiosity and a whole lot of disgust.
Corey was no stranger to such expressions. Either Sinbad didn't care, or he was no stranger to behavior like that. In the end it didn't seem to matter because he cheerfully ordered a table and sat down.
“Oh boy, am I excited! This is the first time in a long time we ate in a new establishment,” Sinbad said just as cheerfully as he asked for a table.
“You are right, it's been a long time.” Jafar agreed.
“Hey Corey! Do you know where these two guys came from?” Sinbad looked over, smiling proudly at the woman. Gesturing towards Hinahoho and Mystras. He was sure she never saw anything like them. Living this far away, he was certain she had no contact with anyone outside the Honeycrisp forest.
“Sasan and Imuchakk,” she said flatly. Killing his excitement about telling her something new. He quickly caught himself, though, and began telling her about the dungeon he conquered and how he met his friends.
While her expression didn't really show anything, she was listening intently. Sinbad only stopped his dramatic story when the owner came around.
“What can I do for you, gentlemen? We don't have a lot to offer, but our specialty is an apple pie made with ingredients we collect from the forest.”
“Then I guess we all take a piece.” Sinbad took the offer happily before looking over to Corey. “If that is alright with you, if you want to eat something else, just—”
“My apologies for interrupting, but we do not serve that woman.”
“Huh?” The group was confused; only Sinbad looked as though he was not interested.
“You are not serving her.” Sinbad said sternly, “I asked you for five pieces of pie.”
“Sir, by all means, this person is not who you think she is. I suggest you don't get associated with her.”
“I believe that is up for me to decide.”
Corey glanced over to Sinbad, her hands tightly in her lap. She expected something from the owner, another no, or even slapping the ‘rude’ stranger. Only he said nothing. That felt even worse than getting rude comments. The tension in her balled fist grew.
“Sinbad, you really shouldn't have done this. I don't mind—”
Sinbad's gaze remained serious, directed at her for now. “Why would a woman like you accept this? I mean, I don't know you that well, but something tells me in normal circumstances you wouldn't.”
Corey's eyes went up and met the piercing stare of Sinbad. There was a quite obvious tension between the two. Mystras even got scared by the two; it was almost as scary as Jafar could be. A stare that could even break the strongest of men.
The staring contest broke off when the bartender came back.
One, two, three, four…
“I asked for five—”
"We're all out,” he said with a wicked grin and left before Sinbad had any more chance to argue.
“It's fine.”
“This isn't fine,” all of them said but just got another, a whole lot angrier, “It's fine” as an answer.
“Enjoy the pie; it's really good,” Corey said more softly. Her eyes roamed over the round before it fell down onto the wooden table. She felt relaxed. At least she believed she did.
They all hesitated. The group was convinced it was rude to eat in front of someone who didn't get anything for no reason, or at least a reason they didn't yet know. Usually a hungry Sinbad is happy to just dive in, but even he felt weird. It didn't help that they wanted to invite her for her help, and now she would watch them eat instead of getting some herself.
So Sinbad did the only appropriate thing: push his own plate in front of her.
“You can eat it yourself, I really—” Corey started, looking up to him.
“Just take it. “I am not that hungry anyway,” Sinbad insisted. Leaving no further room for argument.
She looked at him for a moment before picking up the fork. “Liar,” she pointed out and started munching on the pie. Happily, as far as they could tell.
All the eating gave him some time to get a better look at her, not(e) that he was already staring holes into her. But now she was not rummaging around her home with her back towards him. Through his short time of adventuring, he has met many women; none of them were like her. Quite frankly, none of them were all the same, but she seemed to glow. Glowing with something he had yet to discover. A whole new adventure in itself.
He noticed her unusual pale skin. For someone who was lying in the sun when he first saw her, it was quite unusual. Her eyes didn't reflect the light; they instead sucked it right up into the void. Her clothes were too simple to be true; they didn't fit her like something more expensive would. In his humble opinion, at least. The few times she talked, she was either lecturing, snarky, or extremely honest. Not in a way you would describe a person with it—more laid-back, flat even. Not exactly rude nor kind. Given everything, he didn't see her smile once. Any normal person might have had to fight a little not to crack a smile. With her it was almost like a challenge.
Weird. It's almost like he knew her his whole life.
He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he barely noticed her pushing the plate back to him. The pie was half-eaten.
“I know how it tastes… You can eat the rest.”
“Jafar?”
“What is it now, Sinbad?” The boy groaned. This has been going on for at least an hour now. A constant interruption of them trying to sleep.
“Don’t you think it is weird they treat her like that?” he asked yet again.
“Maybe they have a reason,” Jafar repeated a thousand times now.
Sinbad scrunched up his eyebrows. He wondered if there truly is any reason to treat a person like that. “From what I have seen there is not one.” No, he could sense there was nothing wrong with her.
“No offense, but we just met her.” Jafar sighed; even when he wanted to agree, the slightest, “For all we know, she did something unspeakable.”
That made Sinbad jump up from his bed. He had one of his greatest ideas in a while: “THAT'S IT! We need to ask the villa—” Jafar threw a pillow at him to stop the nonsense blabbering. He was tired but had just enough energy to scold Sinbad.
For the night (not because Jafar is scary), Sinbad had to call defeat and be quiet for Jafar to sleep. He was too restless to fall asleep, a rare occurrence. He would even go so far as to pride himself on always being able to fall asleep. Only now he was not. His eyes went towards the open window, the light of the moon filling the room with a mysterious atmosphere. Calming. When you were on the sea, the moon had the kindness to lend you the stars to navigate. But even without it, he never had a single problem in getting back home. That meant even though the sun lets you see the world clearly, the moon will always guide you with their little trinkets.
Wouldn't that mean the moon is more important than the sun? After all, even with dim light you can find your path, maybe even better.
“Is the moon more important than the sun?”
“Huh? No, of course not.”
“But he guides you home.”
“The moon is nothing without the sun.”
The conversation goes quiet…
Just as he promised, he is asking every villager that comes his way about what Corey did to deserve such treatment. The answer was just as he suspected…
They had none.
Except that they found her weird. The reason being that she was not materialistic. Or that she acted so indifferent and then helped everyone.
“They really don't deserve her,” Mystras realized. They were woken up way too early by their leader and only found out one thing: that Corey was too kind for them. “I mean… she basically does everything for them, and in return she gets left out of eating pie! That is no way to treat a lady.”
Jafar sighed, defeated by his own prejudice. “It really seems like that. No matter who we asked, they all say the same thing about her.”
“Where is Sinbad anyway?” Hinahoho asked, looking around the small village.
.
.
.
.
“Outstanding, you made it back here without a guide,” Corey said unimpressed. Eyes flickering as she looked up towards Sinbad, who was standing on a small hill, but he quickly made his way down to her.
Sinbad grinned and gleamed with pride. “I simply couldn't resist seeing you again.”
“Flirting won't get you far.” Corey rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”
The tiniest bit hurt Sinbad gradually sneaked up to her. “I guess sugarcoating with you is not the way, is it?” For an answer he only received a hard stare. With a sigh he stated, “Then I will ask you directly, do you want to join me and my friends?”
“Not even halfway in the story and you already want to recruit me?”
“Yes.”
“I barely know you.”
“I can only say the same.”
“The answer is no.”
Sinbad looked perplexed. He did not see it coming for her to deny the offer. Hell, he would have put his hand in the fire so that she would say yes. She didn't have any reason to stay now, did she? From the information he gathered, it would have even looked more like the perfect solution to leave these nasty people behind. Truly this must be a joke. This most definitely had to be her wicked sense of humor. There would be no way on earth for someone to stay at a place where no one believes in you.
“Why?” was all he could let his lips say. He didn't understand.
“I don't know you is all.” Her serious stare would have made him believe that. Her eyes and voice are from an honest soul, he felt that deep down. Though it felt too off-putting to be true.
Sinbad was unsure of what to do. That… angered him? How did she manage that? “Is that truly all?”
“Nope.”
That irritated him even more.
Corey sighed, the slightest hint of apology on her features. “Listen here… I really appreciate that you want to hire me for your endeavors, but I must decline. I can only bring trouble with me.”
He calmed down after she said that. It seems like she was just being irrational. How much trouble can one small girl bring? She must believe this because of the villagers' opinion on her. He would too if he were constantly told how much of a weird, bad person he was.
“I doubt that! In fact, I have a feeling you will be our best finding yet.”
“Nope, not a chance.”
"Don't you crave an adventure? Explore the unknown, conquer dungeons, and meet a variety of people!”
She wanted all that. All that and more. She craved it, yet she urged herself to stay here. Stay in a forest no one sane would come and bother you. Her mind screamed at her, screamed to take the offer, begging. But in all her years of living, she grew strong to resist her desires.
Sinbad couldn't believe this woman. She flat out refused his offer, and he was so certain she would agree. The Rukh gave him a clear sign, and she went completely against them. Never has he ever seen something like that. Which piqued his interest even more.
Only his friends were incapable of understanding why he wanted her to tag along.
Jafar had been staring at Sinbad for a while now, watching him as he stupidly bit on his fingernail. With a sigh, he had no choice but to ask the dramatic boy, “Why are you so worked up about someone not wanting to join us? This is the first time you act this way.” Jafar didn't question whether he had a plan or not; he trusted him after all.
Sinbad sighed. “She hides something.” His gaze drifted off to the forest. “And I simply cannot allow a person to live in such circumstances. She deserves more.”
Despite not getting Sinbad's interest, he would help his leader. Jafar trusted Sinbad, and he had not much choice anyway. He also felt obligated to watch after him in case she actually was a bad person and tried to hurt him.
The two started suggesting ideas on how to convince her to come back to Reim with them. Making her realize how badly she was treated. Offering her a bunch of money that was scrapped immediately, she didn't care for such things. Or perhaps getting her excited for adventures would be enough; Sinbad could try impressing her with his stories or even showing her his Djinn equipment.
Before they found a solution, a woman started yelling, crying desperately as she pleaded for help. The two ran outside, ready to help. They saw a woman begging and pleading for help. Her thin hands trying to reach anyone to get their attention. This ignorance was normal for big cities, but a village?
She held a baby close to her chest; one of its arms fell out. Covered in purplish, almost black spots. Almost like a bruise, but worse.
When Sinbad tried to go up and comfort the woman, Jafar held him back. “Don’t,” he hissed, his voice cold and eyes steady on the woman. Without even blinking, he informed him, “It’s the plaque.” Sinbad froze.
He remembered how his own village had trouble when the plague traveled around. How many mothers lost their children? How many corpses had to be either buried or burned? It was perhaps one of the darkest times in history. Unconsciously he took a step back.
Not far away he could see his two other companions, looking helplessly at the whining woman. It was clear no one would help, because no one could.
Sinbad wondered how long the woman must have been kept away. She not only looked as sick as her young child, with similar bruising, but also paler than a ghost. Like her skin hasn’t seen the sun in ages. Her brown hair was sticky and greasy, some strands clinging onto her forehead. The poor soul was barely able to take one small step without falling over.
Every instinct in Sinbad screamed to go help. How would he be able to just stare until they collapse and take their last miserable breath? No matter how much his inside voice screamed at him, they both knew it was a lost cause. The waves couldn’t be manipulated if it was this late.
Maybe that angered him more. Knowing it was a lost person.
Just as he was about to do something stupid, walk up and hold the woman closely until they go in peace. A certain black-haired woman walked up. Gone was the white pirate shirt; instead, she wore a light brown crochet top. Her back was bare, in fact, except for her covered chest and everything under the waistband of her skirt. That didn’t strike him too much, but the giant back tattoo of hers did.
It was intricate. Showing a certain love from the one who designed it. There were many symbols Sinbad had never seen before. A chill ran down his spine when he looked at the three pairs of eyes on her lower back. Each pair had different levels of position of the iris. The first and nearest to the center of the tattoo looked straight ahead. The further down, the more they tried to look up as far as possible, leaving them crying. But what struck him more was the moon. Crescent, and the calmest part of it. The weird symbols screamed of something dark and unforgiving. Like if you tried to speak to them, it would summon a horror beyond human comprehension. The moon, though? Out of place. trying to cover the horrors surrounding it. He would stare at it forever if her next action wasn’t more interesting.
Without a word, Corey gently took the baby out of its mother's arms. It didn’t scream or fight her; it was too weak. Corey placed her ring finger onto the infant's forehead, trailing down the small face. She stopped on its chest. A light breeze came; it felt cold.
A black discoloration started to creep up her finger. It went as far up as her knuckle, though not evenly. Some spots looked like washed-out watercolor, other parts like her eyes. Straight up light-sucking black.
Though when the strange discoloration of her finger stopped, the baby moved again. Crying for whatever reason. It was healthy again. Gone were the purplish spots and the sunken-in face. Instead, the baby was looking like every healthy baby should look. Normal.
No sound left any of the bystanders. They just stared in disbelief and disgust. To them it was inhuman; no normal person could heal a death sentence. And no sane person would dare to try.
The mother could not hold back her tears of joy. Over and over she repeated the same two words, “Thank you.” But when the sobbing pile of mess tried reaching for her baby, Corey pulled back, instead taking one of the extended hands. As she interlocked her fingers, keeping her at a relatively safe distance, just like when she healed the baby, her fingertips started to turn black. The ring finger that was already painted in black turned into a solid color; gone were the washed-out bits. It bled out towards her wrist, stopping before reaching her arm. Though on her arm it looked like her veins turned black, no one was sure if this was the light playing tricks or true.
Now when the mother was healed, Corey handed over the infant. Without needing an invitation, the woman clutched her baby closely, peppering it with kisses on the head and repeating the same two words over and over.
Corey looked down; the woman had fallen to her knees. Corey's expression was as unreadable as ever. Even if you looked closely, you weren't sure if she cared or mocked the display of affection and gratitude.
Sinbad's face, though, showed nothing but pure amazement. Never had he seen something quite like this. If this mysterious woman was able to heal people in the blink of an eye, what else might she be capable of? He had to try again to convince her she would be a blessing for his goals. A blessing for the world. She could do so many good deeds with her powers, even if she could only heal the plague.
Unlike him, who was impressed by her skills, the villagers were a little… Put off by her. It didn't take too long before someone called out "witch," "demon," and whatever else came to their mind. The voices grew louder, yelling at her to just leave them alone. That no one needed a creepy woman like her. "She should go back to where she came from," she twitched.
The expression of Sinbad was first confused and then angry. Though it was Mystras who said something first, telling them to stop. After all, she healed someone; they all should be thankful. Hinahoho and Jafar chimed in as well, trying to calm the raging of everyone around them.
Sinbad was the last but definitely the loudest to defend her.
Corey stood between the two groups. Ushering the woman with her child away, she had a bad feeling about this. Unmovingly, she stood there, listening to every word directed at her. Her stance was calm, though an undeniable tension rested on her shoulders.
After a few moments of yelling, a stone scratched her cheek, leaving a cut in its place. A single blood drop trickled down.
The group of Sinbad stopped in shock; they couldn't believe someone threw a rock at her. Not long after, the village threw rocks, sticks, bottles, and everything else they could find. Glass shattered on the ground, leaving a trail of stepping hazards.
At first slowly sneaking up, Nyx quickly quickened her steps and hissed at the villagers. A rock was thrown at Nyx.
Corey did not stay silent and unmoving for this.
The black eyes of Corey looked Sinbad up and down. “Does the offer still stand?” she asked, her stance comfortable and head up high. The young man blinked twice, still too shocked about the earlier outburst of the woman.
Corey tilted her head to the side, and Nyx jumped up onto her shoulder, doing the same. The two waited patiently for an answer.
Sinbad looked over to Jafar; he shrugged. His gaze went back to Corey, lips curling into a smile. “Of course!”
Corey nodded, a confident smile plastered over her face. “Great, where are we heading to?”