Fiction on Friday 48: The Extra Mile
“Is this it?” the apprentice asked.
It was a pretty enough spot. The water poured out of a crack in the rockface, skipping and sparkling down the slope.
“It is,” the sorceress replied.
“I can’t… sense anything,” the boy said, holding out his hands and straining his senses for any hint of power.
The sorceress chuckled and pulled out a pewter flask etched with runes.
“Nothing to sense. This water’s just like any other.”
“Then why…?”
The apprentice looked behind him in dismay at the miles of ankle-turning rocks they’d just crossed to reach the spring.
“I like the view.”
Wordcount: 100
Prompt: None this week.