Wendy is rudely woken up by someone banging at her door, nearly knocking its hinges off. After deciding that the entirety of yesterday was a dream, Wendy immediately went to bed, hoping that when she wakes up, everything will be normal again. Truthfully, she is terrified at the prospect of waking up and still being the old woman she saw in the mirror yesterday.

Her train of thought is cut short when the banging persists. Groaning, she wills her eyes to open and does her best to sit up. “I’m coming!” she calls out, shocked at her own voice.

“Wendy dear!” the shopkeeper’s clear voice contrasts with her own gruff ones, “you sound awful! Are you feeling well?” 

“I…I suppose I am a bit sick!” she fake coughs, “I’ll stay in today, don’t worry about me.” She hops off her bed and trudges towards the tiny mirror hanging above her vanity - she notices how her steps feel heavier than usual. Slowly peering into the mirror, she feels herself let out a big sigh as she stares at the old woman in the mirror.

You have to stay positive, Wendy!

“You’ll be fine, old lady,” she smiles at her old self, “You’re still healthy, and these clothes finally suit you.” She hears faint laughter from the shop beneath her room and decides that she can’t stay cooped up in the safety of her home any longer.

After changing her clothes as well as wearing her hat, she sneaks to the kitchen, whimpering in pain as her back makes a loud noise. “Being an old woman was harder than I thought.” She immediately grabs everything she needs for her journey and stores them in a small pouch - a list was already made in her head, she didn’t want to stay any longer than she needed to.

She leaves through the backdoor, walking through the small alleys of the city. Her curiosity was peaked when she overheard men in formal wear talk about witches and wizards. She holds herself back from clicking her tongue when the Witch of the Waste’s name was mentioned.

She walked through the narrow bridge over train tracks, thanking a young gentleman as he offered her help. The town is the most lively in the early mornings, Wendy thinks, with children scrambling to get to cram school on time, housewives doing their daily shopping and gossiping among themselves, and the business men in expensive suits who sit in small cafes drinking dark coffee. She passes a crowd gathered around a street musician who was playing a beautiful rendition of a song that Wendy can’t remember the name of.

Wendy doesn’t get it - being in the spotlight, with everyone’s eyes fixed on her. She admires the musician, even if she doesn’t understand. The way he closes his eyes and feels the melody; swaying his whole body to the rhythm like no one is watching - she wishes she can have that confidence in front of others. 

She thinks back to what her sister had told her - finding something she wants to do. Perhaps she should, after…no, rather, if she dispels this old woman curse. Wendy lets her mind wonder, she could open her own small bakery. She’s always enjoyed baking. But maybe not, she doesn’t want to be seen as competing with her sister. What about a seamstress? It’ll be close enough to her current job, and she can work on more interesting dresses. 

She can feel herself getting more tired, she hunches down and tries to catch her breath. This old form has less stamina and is slower, which makes sense, but she’s still a bit salty about it. She glances around her to see if there's anything, or anyone, to help her on her journey. She spots a cart, with a man loading stacks of hay bale on it. She sees her opportunity.

“Hello, sir,” she does her best to sound friendly, “May I take a ride with you? My feet are sore and I need to get there before sundown.”

The man finishes securing the cargo with ropes, “Sure, there’s some room in the back,” he wipes the sweat off his face with his hand, “but where you headed?”

“Just a little way ahead than where you’re going.”

She waddles towards the back of the cart when small hands grasp on to her arm, “Do you need some help?” the young boy who she assumed was the driver’s son asks.

“Yes,” she replies, “thank you, boy.”

He beams, “No problem, Ma’am!”

She hears his footsteps as he circles back to the front and chuckles when he tells his father something about “Helping women! Just like you told me!” And the wheels start turning as the cart moves away from the busy streets of Market Chipping.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“We’re here, Ma’am,” small hands shake Wendy’s shoulders. The boy’s wide eyes seem to widen even more when Wendy opens her own, as if he didn’t think she would actually wake up.

“Oh, I didn’t realise I fell asleep,” she yawns as she rubs her eyes, she can’t tell if her slowed movement are because of her fatigue or her old body, “Thank you for the ride, Mister,” she turns to the boy by her side, patting his head, “and thank you for waking me up.”

“Where are you going now, Granny?” the father questions, “There’s nothin’ but witches and wizards ahead.”

“Well, that’s exactly where I’m going,” she gives the boy a reassuring smile as she hears him gasp.

The man scratches his neck in