Cassidy fernwillow's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

By morning Cassidy had parked her painted wagon beside a tavern with a bright blue roof. Travelers came and went through its door all day. She had a shop now, painted with flowers and vines. But not one traveler stopped to look. They passed her wagon like it was empty, and walked straight inside for a warm meal. Cassidy stood in the road and watched a family walk right by. "They don't even see me," she said. Finn leaned on his staff nearby. He was the blue-skinned bard she had hired to drive and guard her. He nodded toward the tavern's front. "Look at their sign," he said. A wooden board hung from an iron arm, painted with the tavern's name. "Everyone knows what that place is before they reach the door. Your wagon has no name." Cassidy looked up at her flowers and beads. He was right. A pretty wagon was just a wagon. A shop needed a name to call people in. "Then I'll give it one," she said. She pulled her magic brush from her belt. Its bright bristles shimmered as she gripped the handle. She thought about what she truly sold. Not beads. Not paint. Wishes. She grabbed a wide blank canvas and set it on an easel by the wagon's step. Finn watched her work. "What are you painting?" "A menu," she said. "Not for food. For wishes." Her brush moved fast. She painted a banner across the top in curling letters: WISH MENU. Below it she listed the wishes a traveler could buy. A wish for safe roads. A wish for a lost love. A wish for luck at market. She drew a tiny moon, a frog, a wagon rolling free. The colors glowed the way her beads did, soft and dreamy. When the paint dried, she carried the easel to the edge of the road. She turned the wish menu to face the passing crowd. The next traveler slowed. A young woman with a heavy pack stopped and read the board. Her eyes moved down the list of wishes. "You sell these?" she asked. "A real wish?" "Every one," Cassidy said. "Painted by hand." The woman stepped closer to the wagon. She picked up a glass bead that held a wish for a safe journey home. She paid three coins and pressed the bead to her chest. "I've been looking for something like this all my life," she said, and walked on smiling. Cassidy held the coins in her black-nailed hand. Her first sale. The menu had done it. By dusk, four more travelers had stopped to read the board and buy. But as the crowd grew, so did the noise. A man near the tavern watched her coins pile up. He frowned at her wagon, then at her menu. "This is my spot," he said. "I've sold here for years. You're taking my trade." He was not smiling.