Meadowlark Prairie staring down the blind man

Sam had not expected a civil response - any response, and certainly not kindness and a follow-up question. The scowl melted from his face, revealing a mix of hope and confusion.

Spirit-minder. Sam took a tentative step in the stranger’s direction, ears rotating as if trying to connect to a more powerful second brain. He appeared to have trouble with the word. Was it a more literal version of a shaman, or a witch? 

”… I… not by choice,” he stuttered, then narrowed his eyes a little. Too many had laughed; chances were this man was just humouring him. ”Do you believe me?”

He would not hear the answer. Responding to some sound that only existed in his head,  Sam wheeled around and disappeared back down the path he had forged through the grass.