Seeds of Doubt

The roughspun tunic scratched at Carter’s skin, a constant, irritating reminder of his current predicament. He’d managed to shed the garish, alien clothing that had so marked him as an outsider, thanks to a clandestine exchange with a sympathetic stable boy who’d been more curious than fearful. The boy, a lad named Thomas with eyes like a startled fawn, had traded his own worn garments for Carter’s peculiar, smooth-fabric shirt and trousers, pocketing the strange, shiny buttons with a mixture of awe and suspicion. Carter, in turn, had given him a small, polished stone he’d found near the scholar’s hut, a stone that glowed faintly in the dim light, a trick he’d learned from the scholar himself. It wasn't much, but it was enough to secure the trade.

He moved through the narrow, muddy streets of Oakhaven with a newfound caution.