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Ingrid had been told the storytelling session would be over by the lake. She expected to see other Wise Ones gathered, but instead she found a tiny, adorable foal.
...shit.
Hopefully without the child seeing her, Ingrid stashed the basket of fermenting fruit she was carrying behind a few trees.
So there are kids here? That would have been nice to know before I ate like ten of those apples. I mean, I'm not asking for it painted on the sky, but a heads up would have been nice. 'Watch for children,' 'toddler Xing,' fuck, a stop sign in front of the booze probably would have done it.
She settled on a mat somewhere away from the foal and looked up at the mare who was going to be doing the storytelling, a pretty bay who introduced herself as Lena. She was poised, measured, and elegant, in Ingrid's mind, everything about her screamed politician. "Well, good to know I didn't lose my way and accidentally end up at the Festival's stand-up comedy booth," she muttered under her breath.
She wasn't too put off though, Ingrid had a feeling this mare had a lot of interesting things to say. She shifted on her mat, and was content to wait for others to arrive.
