Call of the hammer

Alexis’s eyes widened and she hastily pulled her hand back, looking down at it confused.

“What the…?”

After a few heartbeats her expression darkened and she balled her wayward hand into a fist, growling lowly.

She looked back up at Tar’s pack. Not quite a coincidence, was it? Of course it wasn’t. The man had up until now been inseparable with his pack and the hammer head within, and now he just went to sleep, leaving it behind and completely forgetting about it? Hardly. Wether he was aware of what he was doing, that was a whole different question.

“I don’t appreciate your games.”

She hissed into the silent night. At this point it didn’t even feel as silly anymore to basically be talking to the air, which probably didn’t bode well for her own mental state.
However, maybe she was deceiving herself, but she shouldn’t be this eager to catch another glimpse at the hammer head. She had already seen it, and be it magikal or divine, it wasn’t likely to look any different now.
So she felt there was something else at work here.

Alexis’s defiant streak demanded that she just grabbed that pack, put it with Tar and be done with this for tonight. But she hesitated.
She had accepted by now that there was some kind of higher power driving Tar’s quest. And it seemed that same power, for whatever reason, was insisting on keeping her involved, as well.

So maybe it was time to see if there was some sort of exchange to be had other than through Tar. She had no idea if giving in and humouring that alien feeling of curiosity would do that or just get herself into trouble.
Well, the getting into trouble part was a given. Meddling with an artefact of unknown properties wasn’t a wise move for sure.
Was it worth it was the question.

One way to find out.

“So you want me to look at the hammer head? Fine.”

She spat, reaching for the pack again, this time, hopefully, on her own volition.