The Ridge Forest thinned as they approached the outskirts of Ridge Town, the trees giving way to open fields dotted with small farmhouses and the distant sound of bustling activity. The market was coming into view, with colorful tents and wooden stalls lining the town square.

Harold gestured ahead with a smile. “There it is, Mary. Time to show me what you’ve got as a little merchant. Think you’re ready?”

Mary managed a grin, pushing her worries aside for the moment. “I’ll do my best, Papa!”

As they approached the gates of Ridge Town, Harold pulled the donkey to a slow trot, nodding at the town guard stationed by the entrance. The bustling marketplace beyond the gate was alive with color and sound, but Mary’s attention was drawn to the tall, sturdy man in uniform stepping forward to meet them.

“Morning, Harold,” the guard greeted with a grin, his arms crossed over his chest. His sharp eyes swept over the wagon’s contents before settling on Mary. “Got a new lass with you today? Where’s the wife?”

Harold chuckled, reaching into his coat pocket to retrieve a small, worn badge. He handed it to the guard, who inspected it briefly before handing it back. “Carol’s at home, resting,” Harold replied casually. “This here’s my eldest, Mary. She’s tagging along today to learn the ropes. Figured it’s time she got a taste of the market life.”

Mary offered a polite smile, unsure what to say as the guard gave her an appraising look. “Ah, so this is Mary,” he said, nodding approvingly. “I’ve heard about you. Your papa’s always bragging about how clever his daughter is.”

Mary flushed at the compliment, glancing at Harold, who gave her a wink.

“She’s a quick learner,” Harold said proudly, patting Mary on the shoulder. “Good with the farm work and eager to help. She’ll make a fine merchant someday, mark my words.”

“Well, you’ve got a good teacher,” the guard said, stepping aside and motioning for them to pass. “Go on, then. The market’s already lively today. You’ll want to grab a good spot before it gets crowded.”

“Thanks, Thomas,” Harold said with a nod, clicking his tongue to get the donkey moving again.

As the wagon rolled through the gates, Mary looked up at her father, her cheeks still pink from the guard’s praise. “You talk about me to people?” she asked, half curious and half embarrassed.

“Of course,” Harold replied with a grin. “I’m proud of you, lass. And it doesn’t hurt to let folks know I’ve got a strong, capable daughter ready to take on the world.”

Mary smiled shyly, her earlier nerves easing as they moved deeper into the bustling town. The market square came into full view, a vibrant scene of merchants shouting their wares, townsfolk haggling over prices, and children darting between stalls. Harold guided the wagon toward an open spot near the edge of the square, where he began unloading their goods with Mary’s help.

As Mary unloaded a basket of fresh eggs from the wagon, she glanced around the bustling square. Her hands gripped the basket a little tighter as she took in the unfamiliar sights and sounds. Sticking close to Harold, she tugged at his sleeve, her hazel eyes scanning the gate visible near the edge of the market.

“Papa,” she asked, her voice low enough not to draw attention, “why is the gate so close to the market? I thought markets were usually in the center of town, like in our village.”

Harold chuckled as he lifted a sack of potatoes from the wagon. “Ah, that’s a good question, lass. You’ve got a sharp mind, always noticing things.” He set the sack down near their stall and motioned for Mary to set the basket beside it. “You see, Ridge Town’s market sits near the gate for a reason. This path we took today? It runs through Ridge Forest, aye, but it doesn’t just lead to our village.”

Mary tilted her head curiously. “There are other villages nearby?”

Harold nodded, straightening up and gesturing vaguely toward the forest behind them. “Aye, Ridge Forest is vast. It stretches farther than you’d think. There’s other villages tucked away along different paths, and this market serves all of them. That’s why it’s close to the gate—it’s easier for travelers to trade their goods without having to go too deep into town.”

Mary’s brow furrowed as she processed this. “But how do people know where to go? Isn’t it confusing, with so many paths in the forest?”

“That’s what the signboards are for,” Harold explained with a smile. “Didn’t you notice the wooden posts with carvings when we passed through the forest? Those mark the main paths people use. If you follow the right one, it’ll take you to Ridge Town. Take another, and you’ll end up in one of the other villages—or worse, lost.”

Mary shivered slightly at the thought of getting lost in the woods. “Have you ever taken one of the other paths, Papa?”

Harold rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “A couple of times, back when I was younger. Some paths are well-trodden and safe enough, but others… Well, let’s just say not all the stories about the forest are made-up. It’s best to stick to the routes we know.”

Mary nodded slowly, her curiosity mingling with unease. She glanced back toward the gate, her thoughts drifting to the glowing eyes she had seen near their own village. The forest seemed less like a familiar place and more like a vast, mysterious world she barely understood.

“Now,” Harold said, breaking her train of thought as he clapped his hands together, “let’s focus on the market. You’re here to learn, lass. Let’s see if you’ve got the knack for haggling.”

Mary smiled faintly, letting her father’s cheerful tone soothe her nerves. She turned her attention to their stall, ready to help as the first customers began to approach.

The Ridge Town marketplace was a lively, chaotic scene, teeming with energy from the moment Harold and Mary began setting up their stall. Brightly colored canopies stretched above the wooden booths, providing shade from the sun, while merchants shouted their prices and goods to anyone within earshot. The air was thick with a blend of smells—freshly baked bread, cured meats, earthy herbs, and the occasional sharp tang of animal stalls nearby.

Mary’s eyes darted from one stall to another, taking in the sight of vendors selling everything from ripe fruits and vegetables to handcrafted pottery and woven baskets. A butcher wiped his hands on his blood-stained apron, chatting loudly with a blacksmith who was showing off a shiny new blade. Children weaved through the crowd, giggling as they chased each other, while townsfolk haggled over prices with varying degrees of patience.

“Fresh apples! Sweet as honey!” shouted a woman a few stalls down, waving a bright red apple in the air.

“Silk from across the sea! Finest you’ll find in Ridge Town!” called another vendor, his richly colored fabrics draped over a wooden rack.

Mary stuck close to Harold, overwhelmed by the noise and sheer number of people. She glanced nervously at the customers approaching their stall. Harold, however, seemed entirely at ease, greeting each person with a warm smile and a firm handshake.

Their first customer was an older woman with a kind face, her hands worn from years of work. “Good morning, Harold,” she said, her voice friendly. “Your potatoes were the best I’ve had last week. I’ll take another sack.”

“Of course, Mabel,” Harold replied, his tone equally warm as he helped the woman lift the sack into her basket. “And I’ve got fresh eggs, too, if you’re interested.”

Mabel smiled at Mary. “You must be Mary. Your father’s spoken so highly of you. First time at the market, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mary said shyly, her hands clasping the hem of her apron.

“Well, you’ll do fine,” Mabel said kindly, handing Harold her coins.

Mary felt a small spark of confidence as she watched her father thank the woman and hand her change. But her next interaction wasn’t as pleasant.

A stout man in a faded brown coat approached the stall, his face drawn in a perpetual scowl. “These carrots,” he barked, pointing at their display, “don’t look as good as last time. You expect me to pay the same price for this?”

Harold remained calm, his voice steady. “They’re fresh from the field, same as always, good sir. I can guarantee their quality.”

The man grumbled, narrowing his eyes at Mary as though she was personally responsible for the carrots’ appearance. “Hmph. I’ll take them, but only if you knock off two pence.”

Mary frowned but bit her tongue as Harold calmly negotiated with the man, eventually selling the carrots at a fair price.

As soon as the man left, another customer arrived—a middle-aged woman with a bright scarf wrapped around her head. She leaned in close, her tone conspiratorial. “Harold,” she said, her eyes darting around as though sharing a secret, “you hear about the trouble up north? Bandits, they say. I tell you, it’s not safe to travel these days.”

Mary’s ears perked up, but Harold chuckled lightly, steering the conversation back to their goods. “Well, good thing Ridge Town’s still peaceful. What can I get you today, Marla?”

As the woman purchased a dozen eggs and moved on, Mary leaned toward her father. “Bandits, Papa?” she asked in a hushed tone.

Harold gave her a reassuring smile. “People love their gossip, Mary. Don’t let it trouble you.”

The market day continued in much the same way. Some customers were kind and patient, praising the quality of their goods. Others were gruff or overly nosy, asking far too many questions about their prices or the family back in Elysian Village. Harold handled them all with the same steady demeanor, showing Mary how to navigate the unpredictable nature of the marketplace.

By midday, Mary felt more confident, even taking over a few sales herself under Harold’s watchful eye. As she handed a customer their change, she caught her father’s approving nod. Despite the noise and the demanding crowd, she found herself beginning to enjoy the rhythm of the market.

Harold grinned broadly, ruffling Mary's dark brown hair affectionately. "Goodness! You must be bringin' luck with ya today, ain't ya, Mary?" he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling as he surveyed the stall. He pointed to the pile of coins and the nearly empty crates of fresh produce. "Look at all this—we've sold more than we did yesterday!"

Mary beamed, a flush of pride warming her cheeks as she helped restack a crate of eggs. "Really, Papa? I helped?" she asked, her voice laced with a mix of wonder and excitement.

Harold nodded, clapping her shoulder with gentle force. "Aye, you really are my good luck charm this time, Mary!" he declared, his tone brimming with pride. The bustling noise of the marketplace faded into a background hum as Mary savored the moment—knowing that her efforts, no matter how small, contributed to the day's success.