The Trade -new reader magnet
This is the opening to a new work of mine. A link to the full work follows.
Gemmavere was a lithe, nimble thief. To cover her debt when she was caught red-handed during a burglary, she needed to get creative. The piece, originally painted by the legendary Melugar Degaw, was worth more than her weight in gold. Crazy like a fox, Gemmavere packed only the minimal supplies she would need to live on the road. The rest of her packs were filled with empty bags and change purses. Her risky, but profitable idea was her best way out of debt.
After a week on the road, the short redhead slipped through a crevice in the Galestorm Crags. With almost no room to move, she worked with a trough, a pickaxe, and her hands, she created an exit she could utilize for her scheme. Sweaty and exhausted she rested, drinking her water, and eating some of the stale bread left among her dwindling supplies. She camped in the narrow tunnel, not fearing anything’s approach, save for a curious fieldmouse, sleeping soundly before her creative heist.
After she roused, Gemmavere set straight to work. She took three bags with her, then she entered the vault. The vault was in a hollowed-out cavern. The ceilings were high, and echoes carried through the space. The area was cool and dark, save for the glow of phosphorus. The room was warm, and the entire floor was covered in metal coins of multiple currencies. Her boots slipped at first on the uneven piles of treasure.
Scooping gold and silver coins into the bags, she worked quickly. The metal bits and pieces clanged as they were flung around. The thief slipped her filled bags into the small passage. She pushed herself through afterward to retrieve additional bags. The strength required to move the bags was astounding. She had not expected to feel so weak and tired after only three bags filled.
Still determined, Gemmavere grabbed another three bags. She squeezed through the tiny opening and returned to the vault. While she filled the bags, a quake happened. She fell, losing some of the contents of her pack. Her heart hammered against her ribcage and her entire body trembled with fear of aftershocks or another quake. Seconds turned to minutes. In the dimly lit cavern, she gingerly got to her feet. Now hypervigilant, the redhead filled the bags, then she dragged each stuffed pack to her hideout between the walls.
Gemmavere sat on her bedroll. Her arms were sore, and she was exhausted. She had no sense of time, save for her internal rhythms, but she needed sleep and food. The thief helped herself to a sweet roll, a carrot, and a piece of cheese. She drank half the liquid in her waterskin, then she fell backward into a much-needed slumber.
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https://storyoriginapp.com/universalbooklinks/8433930c-9ac3-11ee-a373-7366d0668ff8
