At the Old Crossing

StorytellerScene

The bell rings once from the watchtower across the river. The ferryman rests both hands on his pole and watches the far bank instead of you. “Nobody has lived there for years,” he says.

StorytellerReply

He looks toward the tower before answering. “Two nights ago. I thought it was the wind until it rang again.” The ferry is ready, but the last light is thinning.