The Wells
"Oh, this." She pointed to her face. "This is nothing." She winced as she spread more ointment on her face. "I'm headed north, toward the mountain. There are rumors a seer lives on the border of the nocturnal forest. I leave at dawn. You could join me — could be fun, for old times' sake. The seer might know what's happening to the water."
He let out a sigh. "Traveling with you is always such an adventure. Count me in. It's too stuffy around here anyway. My father's been talking to the village elders about my betrothal — the change in scenery would be welcome."
"Great, at dawn it is!" she said, looking around the room for a bag. "I'll meet you north of the gate — and hey, don't alert the guard this time."
"I didn't alert the guard. You let them see you hop the fence," he snarked back.
Ten years had passed since their last adventure beyond the fence together. They had only been children then, running around, getting into trouble, always trying to go beyond the village gate — and succeeding, most of the time. The world outside the gate had always been fascinating, nothing like the village she had grown to hate. It never made sense why the gates had closed. There was no war, no threat. Just silence. To this day, only a few traders came this far west — why would they, when there was a major town a half day's walk to the east? In desperate times, the village would send a small group to gather new supplies. No one else was permitted to leave without written permission from the elders.
End of excerpt