Ciylia spent her morning thinking about the bizarre night that had just occurred. She silently vowed to herself that she'd refrain from grabbing every shiny thing she saw as if she was some crow, the temptation of wealth and riches would not sway her.

Ciylia just wished her ride would go faster. Fern had to transform into a horse and drag the cart because they lost their two horses in that weird presents and cake world. It still shocked her that she was in some other world. It wasn’t exactly public knowledge that different worlds existed. How many other people knew about it, she wondered. Her questions only led to more questions so she resolved to just focus on the world she was in now. It was what was familiar to her.

Aliya was in charge of holding the reins while the rest of the Jellybeans were on the lookout for mustangs, stables, or people with extra horses. They needed to replenish their stock but kept moving forward. It wasn’t the hours of pulling the cart that made Fern tired it was all the magical energy he used. Every 4 hours or so he’d have to stop and nap under some trees, his fingers digging into the earth to suck up as much of nature’s energy as he could.

A whole day passed with no sign of other people. Fern was too exhausted to even cook the group dinner, just produced the magical berries, and went to sleep.

The next day came quickly and Fern was sketching that damn giant lizard that walked on two legs in the dirt. He would then awkwardly pose his body in the same way and close his eyes. His body would start shaking and his breathing would become strained but nothing happened. To Ciylia, it just looked like the druid was trying to take a big shit but was constipated. After a few tries, Fern resigned himself to failure and transformed into a large horse and waited to be attached to the cart.

The group continued for a while and as Fern was about to take his first break an elderly woman was trying to wave them down at the side of the road. Aliya pulled the reins to try to make it appear as if she was in control of the horse.

“Please help me, dearies,” begged the old woman.

“What seems to be the problem?” The party’s leader was not worried about talking to this woman. The thief on the other hand was going more cautious by the second. Why was this woman out here? How did she not get help from other people? Where was her horse or cart?

“I need some help removing some things from my basement,” explained the old crone. “I told brother he could donate some of my books to the Tormund library but he won’t be here until tomorrow.”

“Why not just wait until tomorrow to remove the things from your basement then,” snapped Meowlynn. “I don’t see why it’s important for us to help you. It’s a waste of our precious time.”

For once, Ciylia actually agreed with the uptight wizard. They had no reason to help this woman.

“My brother is also old like me and my basement steps are too steep,” protested the woman.

“I guess Tormund’s library is going to be missing out on a few books,” chuckled Blaine.

“You’re welcome to any books you find,” pleaded the crone.

“It’s okay ma’am,” smiled Gene. “We’ll help you.”

“Huh?” Meowlynn’s face twisted so that almost looked like some abstract painting. “Why?”

“Because we are good people,” pointed out the monk. “Also it gives us something to do while Fern has his nap.” He patted the druid’s horse form.

As Gene jumped out of the cart, the old lady started bowing her head. “Thank you, kind sir. My name is Margarette. Would you like some tea?”

“Thank you,” nodded the monk. “I would love some. Where is your home?”

“Oh,” laughed Margarette. “This way.” She signaled down the road.

The leader of the Jellybeans turned back to the group, “If you don’t want to help, you can stay with Fern and the cart. I doubt this will take too long.”

Kira was the first to hop out, which didn’t surprise anyone as she was an upstanding citizen and Gene’s little pet. The cleric also left, probably because she needed the comfort of her friend. Ciylia felt that Aliya might have been a closet lesbian.

Finally, as much as she enjoyed Meowlynn and Blaine’s company, Ciylia also got out to help. It wasn’t so much that she was feeling helpful as she was hoping to steal from the crone. Old women always had too many valuable things they had forgotten about over the years.

The rest stayed with the cart while the volunteers walked a little while down the road. A barely noticeable path opened up within the tree line that went into the forest. Margarette walked down the path but was surprisingly sure-footed despite some roots being slightly raised and random stones here and there. This fact made the thief warier of the crone. Either she was a criminal mastermind leading them into a trap or walking down this path for many years had tempered her steps though Ciylia was starting to suspect the former.

The woman’s house looked antique but not decrepit. It was built in a small clearing with pink and yellow flowers growing sporadically around the area. The building itself was dark brown with a frosty white trim. A lovely porch greeted those who would visit Margarette.

“I’ll just be a moment,” said the old lady. “I left the key to the cellar door inside.”

The crone took her time getting up the porch steps as if she was trying to keep the bob in her grey hair perfect. Although, silver highlights in her black dress caught the sun’s light in a way that was pleasing to the thief.

Once the woman was out of sight, Ciylia darted to the backside of the house to verify if there was an ambush. No one was waiting there, just a sun-bleached door with a slightly rusted chain with a lock that was almost comically too big. Truly, it was just like the locks that thieves use as an introduction to lock picking.

Eventually, Margarette made her way to the back of the house with an old skeleton key in her hand. She popped the key into the lock and with a screech, the lock opened up. After the chain was removed, she opened the cellar door to reveal her basement.

“I’ve already moved the books to near the bottom of the stairs,” explained Margarette. “It shouldn’t take too long. If you could move them to beside the porch I would be most grateful.”

“No problem,” replied Kira. The halfling looked a little too eager to help the old woman.

The stairs were steep as the crone had said and it was starting to seem less likely that the lady was some assassin though for all Ciylia knew, it was Candice in another disguise.

The group went down into the dusty room and as promised the books were there. Ciylia started to scan the titles most of them seemed boring but one book did catch her eye, a book called “The Vigorous Dragonborn” because dragons had always fascinated the thief.

Dragonborn like dragons were a mythical race of dragons that possessed human form as usually being born of a human male mating with a female dragon or vide Vera though the former was supposed to bring the best odds of a successful birth. Like the curse-blooded, they were branded an abomination of nature and were massacred to the brink of existence. No proof of dragonborns actually existed just like dragons.

The forest elf turned to a random page to get a sense of the book:

‘Saphara Xephyer was getting ready to churn butter, the red scales on her tail glistened in the morning sun.

She started working the shaft up and down as the owner of the farm walked out. “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, Saphara,” replied Lewis Harper.

Mr. Harper’s tan skin looked great. He moved closer and some of the thickened milk splashed upon the young dragonborn’s face and in her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“No need to apologize,” smiled Lewis. “How does it taste?”

“Delicious and thick,” blushed Saphara as she licked more of the white substance from her face.’

Ciylia blushed fiercely, she hadn’t read a dirty book in such a long time. She decided that she’d save the book for later and put it in her bag. Margarette did say that they could have any books they liked. That old woman must have been quite the adventurous fox in her hay day.

The thief was about to carry up the box when she heard something roll around in it. A small onyx black ball that was perfectly smooth wedged itself into the spot Ciylia’s new book was. She picked it up, it was the size of her fist. Some sort of energy zapped her fingertips causing her to drop the ball. Even though she told herself she wouldn’t do it, Ciylia pocketed the object and would spend some time examining it at night.

The group then spent some time carrying the boxes up the steep stairs, it was very exhausting. After they finished the work, Margarette invited them for some tea and biscuits.

The tea was strong, perhaps the leaves were left in too long but the flavour was counterbalanced by the sweetness of the biscuits. Gene seemed to love the biscuits as he kept shoving them into his mouth. The monk must have had a sweet tooth.

Afterwards, the Jellybeans left the crone's house and returned to the cart. Fern transformed into a horse and Blaine began hooking him up to the cart when Margarette came running down the road waving a piece of parchment.

"Excuse me," she yelled with her feeble voice. "I thought you could use this."

"What is this," inquired Gene surprised.

"It's a note to my friend Ralph," said the woman between breaths. "He owns a stable just a little ways down the road. He and I used to be quiet the pair."

Upon seeing one book in her collection, Ciylia was betting they did a lot of rolling around in the hay.

"Anyways," continued Margarette. "I'm sure with this letter, Ralph would be willing to part with some of his horses and at a cheap price too. Gods know he could use the business."

"That is very kind of you," the monk accepted the letter. "I hope you have yourself a lovely day."

As the crone said, after an hour or so of traveling they reached Ralph's Ranch.

"Howdy folks," greeted who Ciylia assumed to be Ralph. "How can I help you on this fine day?"

"We have come to deliver this letter from Margarette," said Gene. The rancher's eye lit up upon hearing the old woman's name. "And we've come to buy two horses from you."

"That would be mighty fine," nodded the man. "If y'all please, I'd like ta see that there letter from the beauty down the road."

The monk handed the man the letter and Ralph read with such enthusiasm, Ciylia could almost see the hands of time moving backward on his face.

"I'll sell you them two horses for 15 gold a piece," Ralph grinned while pointing to two horses in a stall.

"Sounds good," agreed Gene. Once the transaction was complete, the Jellybeans left the ranch. Ciylia turned around in the cart to confirm a hunch she had. A few minutes later, she could make out Ralph on horseback moving towards the crone's home. It really made the elf curious about what was in the letter.

"Hey," Kira jabbed Ciylia in the arm with her index finger. "I found this amongst the books and thought you'd like to have it." The halfling ranger produced a book titled 'Mastering How to Arm, Disarm, and Assemble Traps' that looked well used.

"Thanks," the thief was hooked that the law-lover was giving her a book like that. "I'll be sure to read it thoroughly."

As she took the book, the weight of the black ball in her pocket made its presence known. She was excited to examine it was everyone was asleep.

At night after everyone had fallen asleep except for Meowlynn, Ciylia took the ball out and started concentration on the energy it gave off. The more she focused the more she felt the energy seep into her skin. Images of dragons flooded her mind. Five different colour of dragons swirled around her in a frenzied circle. Red, Blue, Green, Black, and White moved faster and faster until they started blending together.

"Find us," they called out. Soon the colours became uniform and formed a large body. Five heads of different colours attached themselves to the body and all glared Ciylia. Each head moved closer before they all opened their maws to bite the elf.

Her mind flashed back to where she was and she could feel a strange presence to the south as she held the orb, maybe there was a dragon over there and maybe they weren't as mythological as everyone seemed to think they were.