She was sitting on the Old Road by the river. Her curse was slowly rising up to her legs, the blue stain a poignant reminder of what happened. Her father had banished her from her village, and her home. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry since she had left. You, feeling sorry for her, decided to approach. She doesn’t look up as you crouch down beside her. You noticed the tear tracks on her face, the drops of water in the dirt beside her.