And So It Begins by R.G. Green

to stay with their goods.
    Kherin’s boot crunched as he took another hesitant step.
    He was forced to shuffle again as Derek maneuvered around him, and a moment later he heard the sounds of debris being brushed aside, undoubtedly with hands and feet.
    “A torch might have come in handy,” Derek muttered as he worked. “I don’t think there is anything in here large enough to burn.”
    “Or dry enough,” Kherin added, squinting to pick out shapes on the floor. He could only assume a fire pit of some sort was also inside the shelter somewhere.
    “Oh well, perhaps it’s best we don’t see exactly what we will be sleeping in.” The trader’s voice was as calm as ever as he left off the task of sweeping. “I suppose we will just have to make the best of it. See if you can pull some dry clothes from those bags. The spare cloaks as well, if you grabbed the right ones. The bedrolls will be too wet to sleep in.”
    He didn’t sound perturbed in the least, as if this were completely normal. But then again, Kherin thought irritably, for Derek it probably was. Another flash of lightning through the dirty window showed the trader had already removed his cloak.
    Kherin huffed softly and forced himself to the task without speaking. What he pulled out, he did by feel, caring little whether the clothes were fine or plain, and he was relieved to feel the heavy cloth of the spare cloaks near the bottom, the fabric completely dry. Barely seen hands took the clothes he pulled free and spread them in the area that had been cleared, covering what dirt remained. The cloaks followed, one spread for a blanket, the other rolled into a makeshift pillow.
    “We’ll sleep on our clothes,” Derek explained, though Kherin hadn’t asked. “Our body heat will warm them, which will make them seem warmer when we dress in them in the morning. It won’t keep them clean, but we’ll be better off for it tomorrow. Are you hungry?”
    Kherin wasn’t, though he should have been. Meals had been sparse and quick, eaten hurriedly in what little shelter they found on the road. But he was thirsty. He didn’t relish the idea of venturing out to the stable to retrieve their waterskins, however.
    Derek laughed softly when he said that aloud. “Come. Let me show you something.”
    Kherin could see well enough by now to follow the trader across the room, and he crouched next to him as he squatted in the corner. Derek brushed lightly over the floor, using only his fingertips, until he found what he was looking for. A small ring attached to a wooden section of the floor was pulled, and the clinking of metal chains sounded as a tiny door swung open. One end of the chain was attached to the wood of the door, while the other vanished into the ground below.
    A well!
    Derek confirmed the suspicion when he pulled the chain up, hand over hand, until a small bucket reached the top. Not much larger than a mug in any city tavern, the water it brought up was nonetheless fresh, and Kherin swallowed it gratefully. He was too thirsty to have qualms about drinking out of the bucket itself, and he offered no complaint at the slight metallic taste the water held. He drained the bucket quickly and retrieved the second bucket himself.
    “These way-stops used to see much more use,” Derek said as he moved back to the bed he had made. “Even if they aren’t maintained any longer, the wells are still welcome to those of us who know they exist.”
    Another peal of thunder shook the glass as Kherin drained the bucket a third time, and though he was tempted to take yet another dip, he instead let the bucket drop when he was finished, then closed the cover with another clinking of chain. Derek had resumed the task of spreading his wet cloak, and Kherin joined him, adding his own to the carpet they were creating, though the chance of them drying before morning was nearly nonexistent. They worked quietly for several moments before Kherin broke the silence.
    “Derek, why were you