She trudged along, uncertain how the mage could have any concept of where they were, much less where they were bound. Yet, he knew where they were and, likewise, knew where they needed to be with calm certainty.
She was one of the few children blessed to have been chosen as an Apprentice, and yet, her greatest desire was not to learn the mystical art of Restoration. Food, shelter and security were far more paramount concerns to her than matters arcane. For those gifts she would do as the Masters bid.
The Voidmaster stopped abruptly, motioning for her to unpack the elements necessary for the ritual. He assumed the posture required and began a low, sonorous chant while sprinkling the contents of various containers forward into the impenetrable fog. With unexpected finality, the mists parted to reveal a bare, fallow field, some sort of outbuilding and a single scraggly tree.The Voidmaster slumped with weariness and she could not help but wonder why such effort was made to Restore something so…mundane.
As if reading her thoughts, he looked up at her, a tight smile gracing his normally-stern visage. “Sometimes, it is the simplest things that are the hardest to reclaim.”
This story was written for the weekly Flash! Friday flash fiction challenge.