Never Go Off-Script

Chapter 8 - Archer's POV

It took us another two days to reach the village, and I wasted no time there. I stopped at the village stable to allow Nightmare time to recuperate. While she rested and snacked on hay, I went to the local potion seller. They were practically sold out already, but I managed to barter a few agility and endurance potions for half their original price. I'd have to find healing potions elsewhere.

I returned to the stables where Nightmare waited, now fully fed, watered, and somewhat rested. We set off for the Trader's Path, reaching the bustling market just before sunset.

I searched for the familiar stand, my heart rate picking up every time I thought I caught a flash of bouncy brown hair, but it was never who I was looking for. I went back and forth through the entire market twice before I located his tiny stand, hidden between two larger ones with considerably longer lines.

"Finally," I muttered, dismounting, and I caught the accusatory glare of one adventure who had shouted at me earlier — something about being disrespectful for riding my horse in a crowded area, I don't know. At least five other wannabes had said the same thing, so she wasn't special.

I smirked and waved at the adventurer, who shoved past me with unnecessary roughness. It had the opposite effect she was going for since I just found her irritation amusing.

Then a friendly voice called out to me, and I paid no attention to anything else.

"Greetings, traveler!"

The words were heavily sarcastic, and I snickered, stepping up to his stand. My smile was too big, I could feel it, but there was nothing I could do about it. At least his brilliant smile mirrored mine, lighting up his freckled face.

"Greetings yourself," I replied.

He appraised me with those warm brown eyes, his arms crossed, his cream-colored sleeves rolled up to expose the sun-darkened skin of his forearms. I was surprised to find freckles there, too.

Suddenly, the trader let out an unexpected snort.

"Sorry," he said when I raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "It's just that I saw you pass by three times before you finally spotted me." He laughed brightly, and my face felt weirdly warm as I watched. "I wanted to call out to you, but you just looked so lost — I couldn't —"

He doubled over again, clutching his stomach, and I continued to stare at him mutely. I didn't know NPCs could laugh like that.

"Yeah, yeah. Hilarious," I mumbled, crossing my arms. Why did he look so... what was the word? Endearing?

I pushed the thought away, irked.

The trader raised a hand to wipe at a fake tear, and I noticed an unusual mark on his wrist. That hadn't been there last time, had it? I studied it closer, trying to be sure, but it was definitely a bruise. Where would he have gotten that?

"Did you fall?"

The trader stopped, looking at me in surprise, his smile still lingering on his face — a real smile, not one of those scripted ones the NPCs always gave me.

"No," he answered slowly, brows pushing together. "Why do you ask?"

I jerked my chin meaningfully toward his wrist. "That's a nasty bruise."

He followed my eyes to his wrist, and I watched his smile vanish. His face paled, and he looked suddenly uncomfortable and... Was that fear?

"Oh..." he squeaked, pulling at his sleeve to cover the mark, but the cuffs didn't reach as far as his wrist. So he tucked his arm behind his back, but not before I caught sight of another purplish mark beside the first one.