Maya tied a bunch of fresh heather to the end of her broomstick, the wooden handle soft with age, and began sweeping the floors of the Traveler’s Inn and Tavern. She hummed while she worked, and when she brushed over thresholds she muttered the words her late mother taught her:
see wicked out,
show worthy in,
as outside, so within.
Dustmotes swirled through the air, dancing with the breeze that filtered in through open windows. Rhoda and Zale, her two darling cats, watched her from the sunspots where they laid. “Excuse me, please,” Maya said softly to them. “I’d like to sweep the floor there now.” The cats yawned and stretched before moseying off to find another place to nap. Maya opened the front door and swept the last of the dirt outside, careful not to soil the comfrey and dill that bordered the pathway.
When the broomstick fell from her hands and clattered on the ground, she did not stoop to retrieve it. Instead, her gaze was fixed on the depths of the woods that enshrouded the tavern. She smiled when at last she saw Zephyr running towards her, knowing Corbin wasn’t far behind. “Hello good boy,” she cooed as she dropped to her knees to hug her four-legged friend. His kisses were sloppy and she giggled as she tried half heartedly to push him away.