Derek turned back to his bag and looked through his tools. Something had to work. If he couldn't chisel a piece of the star off, maybe there was a way to smash a chunk from its surface, or maybe he could even saw a small lump off. He wasn't about to give up, not when he had much bigger things to worry about - his dying wife at home - and this might be his last hope.
He heard someone come up behind him, the sound of boots scuffing against soft dirt bringing him out of his thoughts. “If I were you, I wouldn't keep trying.”
Derek turned to find a younger-looking man in a uniform standing behind him. If Derek remembered correctly, the man was wearing the colors of a city guard. The man ran a hand through his sweat-streaked hair, pushing it off his forehead. Derek looked up at the guard, his voice tight with fear, “Is there no way?”
“Sir, I have seen people come through here with pickaxes, with hammers, with knives, with some of the strangest tools one could imagine.
This is starting to look like a short story, a continuation of my previous two entries.
I had a little writer's block, thank you for giving me back my muse.
@darthsauron/day-1676-5-minute-freewrite - Part 2
@darthsauron/day-1675-5-minute-freewrite - Part 1