Chapter 18

(Ahem.)

The next morning, it was decided that Hardcase would go into town dressed in her finest greenery, accompanied by Mr. Bigfoot. Freaky had made stone sabots for those who wanted them, and in Hardcase's case, they had little planters on top, to root her vines in. The vines twined up her legs, and anchored in a wreath about her bluegreen hair. For style's sake, the wreath was adorned with little red berries, and the cunning vine hid all her prurient parts from salacious views. Mr. Bigfoot indicated that he needed no adornment, and so was left well enough alone. Hardcase took a bow and a bark quiver full of the best of the arrows, and a solid but decorativly carved quarter-stave. She soon found the road, and the town was only a few miles away. She noticed that the few passerbys she passed by all stopped, as if rooted to the spot, at the sight of her and Mr. Bigfoot. She attributed it to the sight of the enormous cat at her side, and continued on her way. Mr. Bigfoot just twitched his ear to say "idiots." in a disgusted way. On arriving at the town gate, they passed through past the frozen stareing guards with their gaping mouths, and trod up the street to the market. The hubub of noise gradualy gave way to silence as more and more people noticed, and turned to see, and saw. Soon the entire marketplace was quiet, and every head was presenting a shocked disbelieving stare and slack jawed awe. It made Hardcase a little nervous.

Suddenly a man's voice shouted "Blasphemy!" and the twang of a bowstring split the silence. Hardcase stretched forth her hand, and willed the speeding shaft to ash as it flew. Suddenly everyone in the marketplace was prostrate on the ground, some having genuflected to abasement, and some having merely fainted. She was forced to complete her shoping in silence, stepping over the prone townspeople, (Mr. Bigfoot merely stepped on them as needed.) as she gathered clothing, food, packsacks, weapons, rope, and other goods adventurers would like. At the far end of the square, she found a livestock market, and chose a mule to transport her selections. Actualy, he was the only mule who didn't stampede to the other end of the corral when she and Mr. Bigfoot approached. Leaving an overpayment of gold and or gems as she had for each of her selections, (The craftspeople so honored by her 'endorsement' earned much more on top of that as well, in prestige and fame.) she packed a packsaddle and placed it on Patches the Mule. and invited him to come with them. Patches was the most stuborn, mulish mule ever born. He couldn't be led, but he would follow, if it suited him, and you asked politely. Somehow Hardcase intuited this, and so had attached no lead rope nor halter to the beast. He pretended interest in eating her garment, or her garland, or her garb, to give himself the excuse to follow along with his interesting new friends. He mostly stepped over the scattered townsfolk, at times snuffling their hair, and on a few occasions loosing a horrific braying to shatter the silence. A silence that persisted for several hours after they had left.