A Cave, a Peddler, and His Horse
The new moon hardly shone any light, and what the stars in the night sky provided was eaten up by the canopy of trees above. The peddler could hardly see the path in front of him, and cursed himself for failing to buy new oil for his lantern. Twice he considered burning what he had left, but he knew these woods, and so did his horse. He was confident they’d make it through.
Progress was slow, slower than usual, so the peddler didn’t question it when they weren’t yet out of the forest in an hour, but when an hour stretched to two, and the distance the pair traveled became illogical, the peddler became certain that they had been going in circles.
Finally, the peddler stopped and decided to light up what was left of his oil and see how badly they had gotten themselves lost. When he did, however, he saw the warm glow of the lantern spilling over walls of stone which surrounded them on every side. Somehow, it must have been that he had wandered into the open mouth of a cave.
Confused, the peddler reached into a pack which had been strung at his horse’s side, and pulled out a compass to see which direction they were headed. In the low light of the lantern, which the peddler burned as conservatively as possible, he watched the compass needle begin to twist in every direction at once, back and forth as if it hardly knew where they were.
Exasperated, the peddler put the compass away, and turned around. With any luck, they would not have traveled far, and could get back out before the sun rose.
The pair needed not travel long before they came upon a place where the tunnels of the cave split in twain. The peddler deliberated in silence for a time, until he heard the sound of dripping water behind him.
“Take the path to the left,” the cave said to him, “and you and your horse may rest until the morning and regain your strength.”
“No, thank you,” said the peddler, weary as he was. “I must get home before sunrise. My wife is waiting, and I am already late.” So he took the path to the right instead. It was not long until again he came upon a place where the path split in two.
“Take the path to the right,” the cave called again, “and I will prepare you and your horse a feast so that you will return in good health and high spirits.”
“No, thank you,” said the peddler. “I must get home before sunrise. My father is waiting. He is in bad health, and I am already late.” So he took the path on the left. The peddler traveled for a while again, hearing the falling water sometimes but always dismissing it, until he came upon a place where the path split in two.
“Take the path on the right,” said the cave, “and I will show you enough gold for a thousand lifetimes.”
“No, thank you,” said the peddler. “One lifetime is enough for me.” So he took the path on the left, and soon thereafter stopped hearing the sound of the cave, and the stone under the peddler’s horse gave way to soft dirt.
AYDDEN YOPE is a writer from the Pittsburgh area who enjoys reading and writing most types of fiction. His work has previously been published in Robert Morris University’s Rune magazine. He enjoys writing fantasy, screenplays, and realistic fiction.