Squishhheh

The Guild Hall was quiet. Too quiet. The thatched hut with its wattle and daub walls stood still in the middle of the village, surrounded by shrubs and other small houses. A wind-chime blew in the wind, creating small, musical notes that rang in the still air. The low clucking of hens disturbed the peace; each noise was long and wary. Tom reached backwards for the bandaged sword handle that stuck out over his left shoulder. Being left-handed was considered unlucky, but so far Tom had been the only one of his comrades to return with all four limbs still attached to his body. His dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, secured by a single strip