Last Tea Shop: The Veiled One
It was raining.
Not a downpour, but a chill drizzle, persistent and steady. The whole world seemed tired somehow; the mountain breeze was slow drifting through the pass and the river beneath the bridge was quiet. A calm had descended over the pass like a blanket, keeping everything still and peaceful.
Ild twisted the sage between her fingers, staring at the fibrous herb with something like trepidation. The soft popping of the boiling water tickled the back of her mind as she stared, aimlessly stroking a cluster of mice where they rested on her lap. She listened to the sound of the rain pattering on the roof, ticking and tapping away like a broken clock. The whole hut shuttered from the wind, and drops of rain were leaking in to drip on the old clothes, tarnished metals, and smooth wooden furniture.
“Pah,” she said at last, nudging the mice on their way. “If it’s time, it’s time.” Standing up from her chair, she walked over to the pot and dropped the sage in the water. She watched as the water slowly faded from clear to a murky gray, then brightened to a light green. Leaving it to seep, she reached out to pluck her old ragged coat from the pile and slip it on. “Keep watch,” she said, unnecessarily, as she unbolted the shaky door.