The five witches arrived at their base before sunrise.
It was an old stone building with crooked wooden doors, used to store all the goods they stole before handing them over to their boss.
They jumped down from the wagon one by one and began unloading the sacks, their grins still wide across their faces. Each sack was dropped onto the floor with a thud.
Four sacks—heavy, filled to the brim with the so-called Dreadmire flowers.
They looked at their loot with pride.
"All this in one night," the second witch said, kicking one of the sacks lightly. "We're unstoppable."
The youngest witch ran her fingers through a bunch of flowers poking from the sack's mouth. "So soft and pretty. They'll fetch a good price."
"We'll wait here. Once the boss comes, we'll hand it over and get our reward," said the leader, folding her arms with a pleased smirk.
**
Meanwhile, back at the small inn…
