The Crone
The old woman grins. “Very good…”
She takes a mortar from the hovel floor. Within is a strange poultice — ruddy, dark. Anointing us with its contents, she casts her hand from her body. We are thrown bodily from the hovel’s interior, landing in the mud outside.
When we stand up, the hovel is empty. The crone is gone.
The first traveller to accept the Crone’s wisdom gains the Bargain of the Crone.
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