Nothing in the hut seemed to carry a magical aura. When Sonder extended her sense to go over the hut in detail, she felt nothing.
Not the fire, or anything else. It was rather mundane.
There was a bowl on the table; nothing was in it, but there was a fork, knife, and spoon next to it. Just something to eat with.
She looked at the wall of shelves.
It was packed tight with jars and bundles. She approached them next.
There were no labels on them, but just by sight alone, she could identify some of them.
Nothing but normal plants and spices. There were leaves and powders, some light and some dark, and some even wet or thick goop, like honey.
Others made her pause, frowning as she tried to place them.
It seemed to be just a kitchen, nothing more. She reached out and gently touched one of the bundles, rolling it between her fingers.
It crumbled slightly, dry but well preserved.
Below the shelves sat a low chest. Sonder hesitated, her hand hovering above it. This crossed the line from looking to searching, and she knew it.
Still, she knelt and lifted the lid.
Inside were folded clothes, simple and sturdy, patched but clean. Both cloth and leather.
Beneath them lay a stack of books and loose papers, weighted down by a smooth stone.
Sonder lifted the stone and carefully picked up the top book.
It was heavy, and it seemed old. She opened it slowly. The pages were filled with writing and some sketches, but she couldn't read the text. Whatever language it was, she didn't know it.
It was written with a quick and practiced hand.
She flipped through a few more pages, then stopped. This feels rude, she thought. What if it was a diary?
She took another book, and this time she could read the text; not just that, she had read it already once. The Spirit of Phenomenology.
She had read it, but it didn't mean that she fully understood what it was about.
She rented it from the library back in the Magnus Halls, where she and Vell had spent some time for the Kalandir elves.
That time was a fond memory, fonder than the recent past.
She wondered what a book like this was doing here. And she had another thought. If there was no one here to claim it, she thought she could take it with her.
She'd take good care of it, and it would give her a lot of joy having it.
But then she closed it and put it back where it was.
If she took it, it would just be stealing, no way around that.
It was evident that someone lived here.
And no matter who it was, stealing from them wouldn't be right.
She had no possessions that weren't given or taken honestly, and she didn't want to mar her spirit with something dishonest.
She closed the lid of the chest.
"What am I missing?" she murmured.
A life, someone lived quietly, she thought. And whoever stayed here didn't feel like someone chasing power or shards, it seemed.
As she was thinking of what to do and the morals of going through more things in the hut, the door suddenly opened. Wind rushed in, sharp and sudden, scattering ash from the hearth and tugging at her hair.
The hinges creaked softly as the door swung inward, and a tall figure filled the doorway, backlit by the open sky beyond.
And the sight almost made Sonder's heart burst out of her chest.
For one impossible instant, hope flared so fiercely that it would put the sun to shame.
"Vell?"