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Wishful Sacrifices

November 2nd: The Wishing Well

Gareth hated the Wishing Well. The alternating red and blue stones that built it up from the ground and kept people from falling down the hole were gaudy and uneven, not to mention sharp enough to cut whether you wanted to make a wish or not. The water below was undrinkable, he was sure of it; surely so much blood spilled over the years would have rendered it little less than poison.

Yet, here he was, again, and just like before, because someone else needed something.

"Because that's how it fucking works, isn't it?" the lion muttered, left hand shaking over one of the red stones. "What do you want this time?"

"You know what we need, Gareth. The whole village needs food."

"Great. Fucking - you know how hard this one's going to be?"

The lioness behind him shrugged. They always did. The village council never sent someone that would sympathize with him. For all he knew, they'd already been drained by the well for that exact reason.

Because that was how the Wishing Well worked. Instead of paying for a wish, you paid with a wish. You gave up a wish you had to grant it for someone else. Make a cut, make a wish, and just like that, you - or, more often of late, he - lost the desire for whatever it was, and someone else got the wish granted.

But this one? This was a big one.

Gareth was all too aware of the rest of the village filing down the streets or peeking out windows to watch. Anytime someone walked up to the stones, it meant something was going to happen. Red stones for a bloody wish, blue stones for - well, nobody touched the blue stones. Reds were bad enough.

"You couldn't pick something easier?" he asked, resisting the urge to yank his hand back. "Wishing for food -"

"Will take away your hunger. Yes."

"Yeah, but not my need to eat!"

"Then you will have to be clever. Like always."

"Or, you know, you can bring a different prisoner out for this."

"You have been successful before."

Shaking his head, he turned back to the well, trying to shake off the unnerving otherness of the lioness. If he waited too long, she would force the issue, pushing his hand down and making the wish for him as he cut his palm. It was the punishment for most criminals: nonspecific time in jail, or getting out by giving up a wish for the sake of the village. He just happened to get caught for a lot of minor things and didn't want to spend his time rotting in a cell.

But this one was different. When it came to wishing for water, he managed to word the wish for rain and keep his thirst. When they needed safety from bandits, he'd given up his wish for a boring life. Wishing for food, however, was too tied into hunger, into his own body's need, and without feeling hunger, it would be easy to starve. It had happened before, and it would happen again.

"Make the wish, Gareth."

"Just...hold on a second."

How could he word a wish to both bring food and still be able to feed himself? The lion gritted his teeth, hearing the lioness take a step forward. What could he trade -

Inspiration struck. He thrust his hand down, hissing through the sudden pain of his palm getting sliced open. Grabbing hold of his wrist, he held his hand over the open well, the familiar crimson line rolling down between his fingers. Everyone went silent.

"Take my wish for easy trade, and give it to the village."

"Wait -"

But the lioness was too late. The blood dripped off his fingers, landing in the water many feet below. The stones around the well glowed, blue and red turning to purple, and then faded. The wish was made, and the world itself was changed.

Even as Gareth felt a new memory - one that most definitely hadn't been there before - bubbling up about the shipments of food and other goods coming to the village tomorrow, the lioness grabbed him. She pulled him around, forcing him to face her with her fingers entwined with the collar of his shirt.

"Do you know what you did? How are we supposed to pay for that?" she hissed.

"...Make a wish." He pushed her hands back, shaking his head. "I'm done making deals."

"Until you are caught again."

"Think about the wish I just made."

"...You -"

"No more easy deals." Gareth smiled. "I'm done making wishes for you just for freedom. Next time you catch me, I'm fine sitting in a cell. Find another prisoner to wish for some money."

He stepped around her, and she didn't stop him. Nobody in the village did.

As he walked away from the Wishing Well, he hoped he'd never see it again. Maybe he should have wished for that; you could only give up so many dreams for someone else before you stopped being a person, and he'd come damn close.