Years

The Never Ending Quest - Episode 117775

Fred never would have seen it coming, but there it was: contentment. Imagine! She was a young woman living in a hut in the woods, completely alone save for another woman who at this point may as well be her grandmother. She could not speak, and could not even wander to any nearby towns for fear of being spotted by the guard and dragged back to the prince. She spent her days cooking, cleaning, and taking quiet walks. She had very little in the way of possessions or prospects for her future. And yet, as time wore on, she found more and more that she was settling in quite comfortably.

Wenda taught her many new skills in those first few months in addition to the aforementioned ones, like knitting and gardening. The closest Fred ever came to her former life was when she set up hunting traps, something Wenda was quite impressed by. Fred prepared the animals that were caught in these traps for supper, and for that week they ate a little better than normal.

It wasn't bad. It really wasn't. In the first year, there were exactly three knocks on the door, and all were passing travelers asking for directions. Fred always hid herself, just to be safe, and when they were gone, Wenda would pull her into a hug.

Fred desperately missed being a respected Allarian knight, wielding a sword, and going on quests to protect the realm—at first. And it wasn't that she stopped missing her old life, but the ferocity with which she desired to go back did fade given time. Wenda continued to call her a variety of pet names, but in time she at last seemed to settle on one: Cinnamon. And eventually, Fred became used to it. She didn't forget her old name, but by the time nobody had called her by it in over a year, she had little cause to think of it anymore. Eventually, Cinnamon was, quite simply, her name—what she went by. She supposed it was better than having none at all.

As she was debilitatingly weak, unable to fend for herself, and rather isolated, change was slow to come. She remained there for years. And, as no news is good news, the first real change that came was Wenda's unfortunate demise, during year

  1. three. The winter was horribly harsh, and they were snowed in for weeks. Cinnamon tried to keep the fire going, but Wenda eventually froze to death.
  2. eight. They entertained guests for the first time in a couple years—an adventuring party after a group of bandits—and while they were present, the bandits themselves broke in and killed Wenda as well as one of the adventurers.
  3. fifteen. Wenda, very old and frail by now, became quite ill, and after two weeks in bed, succumbed in the early morning.

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