@kd-neeley and 
@zakludick. Each writer authors a post based on the events of previous episodes and carries on the story.Page 5 of Tarot Tales by @KD-Neeley
Emerging out of the pool the Fool sees that the Temple of the High Priestess has vanished and replaced by a new landscape. The Hanged Man gives a cryptic piece of advice. The Fool believes that he must be dreaming... or is he?
It is now
The Fool hurried away from the corpse hanging in the tree.
There was only silence now as if the corpse was finally exactly what it seemed. The blackbirds broke the silence and cawed challenge at one another. They were already competing for the scraps.
The sun felt warm enough but the light seemed to be a shade paler and at the same time lazy. The Fool felt a strange sensation of lethargy. Everything the light touched also seemed to droop or sag in its position. Perhaps it was just the Fool's imagination, the cause of exhaustion.
"Come girl." The Fool moved off and Prashanta finally stopped her sniffing of the corpse's feet. There was a path, similar to the one that he had followed to get to the High Priestess's temple. The only difference between the two that the Fool could see was a lack of maintenance. The workmanship seemed similar and yet here the stones seemed to be strewn around in a haphazard sense.
The trees in this new place were taller and blocked out more of the sun. The effect did not make it darker, just more grey.
"Woof! Woof! Woof!" Prashanta bounded down the path and as it curved through a denser part of the forest, The Fool lost sight of her.
"Prashanta! Here girl!"
The bitch did not seem to hear him at all and The Fool broke into a light jog and rounded the bend where he had lost sight of her. Turning the corner he saw that the pathway turned to a regular dirt road and the trees grew wilder.
Prashanta was nowhere to be seen.
He could hear her barking in the distance. The sound did not come from up the road but further into the forest.
The Fool did his best to follow where he thought the dog went. At least he did not mind getting lost. He was never lost. He was where he needed to be at all times. Never early and never late. The Fates bear him witness, The Fool was made to be wherever he so happened to wander in on.
He heard voices someplace nearby. The sound of them made a chill run down The Fool's spine. There was something not quite right about these voices. He decided to remain hidden and travel towards them and hear what was being said.
"They think they are better than me?" A voice said from the other side of a stand of trees. "I will not be so treated Chariot. It makes my blood boil... well well, that would be a great spell to cast on them." The man cackled with laughter, on the edge of maniacal. "Make their blood boil!"
The Fool had met the Chariot before, a steadfast compatriot. It had been a pleasure to travel with him. Yet the voice that answered disappointed The Fool.
"Who cares what they think of you, Magician?" The other voice was not that of the gallant, bold man that The Fool knew. Instead, the man sounded brusque, as though in a major hurry. "No need to go through such lengths. Just knock them down and I shall ride over their heads. Finished."
"You lack imagination." The Magician snapped. The Fool could see the man's dark robe through the stand of trees where they stood. "What point does it serve to merely kill one's enemies? They need to be taught a lesson. So other people can learn from their deaths."
"Who cares what the people think?" The retort came back. "Dead men have no opinions."
"Would you young idiots stop your natterings?" A third voice joined the others. The old woman who uttered them seemed to be out of breath and in a great deal of physical pain. "Not that you would travel to a decent location to take into account my old body."
The Fool peered through the leaves and brush. He could not believe it!
The Hermit!
And yet there was something not right about the old woman. She seemed drawn in tight on herself and scowled at the two men. Her hands were snarled in arthritis that The Fool had not noticed last night when they had eaten together.
An idea began to form in his mind as to why she looked this way.
"I don't really care old woman. Quit your whinging." Came one reply.
"But of course I actually chose this spot specifically." The Magician cackled with laughter. "I hope you hated the steps you needed to take up the hillside to get here."
The Hermit grunted. "Typical. Let's get this over with. I have scried the mists. The veil has shown me the other side."
"Yes, yes. Your hedge magic. Paltry stuff." The Magician flourished his dirty robe. "Nothing compared to my own magic."
"If your magic was so great then why don't you do the scrying?" She bit back at him.
"Waste of my time." He scoffed.
"Will you two get on with it?" The Chariot complained.
There was a slight pause and The Fool had the distinct feeling that the three of them were locked in some sort of staring contest with the others.
Drawing in a dry breath, the Hermit began to speak again. When she did, sweat began to bead and run on The Fool's forehead.
"She has given The Fool the Book...."
Now the torch is passed on to @KD-Neeley to add in Page 7 of the story!
Previous Chapters
Tarot Tales - Page 1 by @KD-Neeley
Tarot Tales - Page 2 by
Tarot Tales - Page 3 by @KD-Neeley
Tarot Tales - Page 4 by
Tarot Tales - Page 5 by @KD-Neeley
