Anara Byra was leaving town. Again. They had thrown her out, unsurprisingly, when they discovered her notes. Notes on the history of the town, and a forged pass to the town's archives. Fortunately, she'd been able to get in before they'd found out. Unfortunately, their records were not nearly comprehensive enough to help with her research. Also unfortunately, they had burned her notes. She'd have to copy them off from memory once she found the spot where she'd hidden her satchel.
Anara was not her real name. Neither was Byra. But it was the name she had adopted for the past five years. It suited her well enough.
Ah, here it was. The satchel, hidden inside a hollowed out tree branch, still on the tree. She climbed up, more nimbly than you'd expect from a scholar, and retrieved it. It was brown, sturdy, and showed much more wear than any satchel should ever have to endure. She flipped open the flap, searching inside for a blank page and a charcoal pencil. On the inside of the flap in battered gold lettering it said:
A. B., Legend Researcher
Anara was not her real name. Neither was Byra. But it was the name she had adopted for the past five years. It suited her well enough.
Ah, here it was. The satchel, hidden inside a hollowed out tree branch, still on the tree. She climbed up, more nimbly than you'd expect from a scholar, and retrieved it. It was brown, sturdy, and showed much more wear than any satchel should ever have to endure. She flipped open the flap, searching inside for a blank page and a charcoal pencil. On the inside of the flap in battered gold lettering it said:
A. B., Legend Researcher