Work in progress pt 3

"Arran lived on a small farm on the outskirts of a small village. It was a boring and degrading existence for Arran, but it was the only life he knew. Once in a while a traveling company of some kind would blow in. These meager offerings of an outside world would set Arran to thinking. He often wondered if there was some great adventure meant just for him.
Then one day, an oracle came to town. Her name was Acain. She was as old as time, as beautiful as the heavens, and as kind as a dragon. Though she was known for caring only for the gold she was paid for her efforts, she was a true and honest oracle.
When Arran heard of her presence at the town, he immediately headed off to meet her. He was certain that the oracle would send him on important quest.
Acain had her tent set up in the center of the town square. It was old, plain, and simple enough to pack up in a hurry. But Arran's impression was completely changed as he stepped through the flap. Inside, the tent was full of plush, velvety cushions. It was lined with long, colored drapes of silk. Along the far wall was a tall shelf. The shelf was filled with bottles of various liquids, powders, and mixtures, assorted metallic tokens, and leather bound books. In the middle was a small, low table. Seated behind the table was none other than Acain herself. She looked up at him and spoke.
"So, farm boy, you want to know where your path may lead you."
"Yes." Arran continued "I want you to tell me what quest I must take on. Am I to vanquish some horrible dragon, slay the terror of the East Woods, or am I to rid a great kingdom of its only enemy."
"First, what will be my payment?" Questioned Acain.
"I have seven silver pieces. Will that do?" Arran said in a worried voice.
"It is good enough. Now tell me what is your name?" she said as she reached out her hand and took the silver pieces from him.
"Arran"
Acain dropped her payment into a pouch, drew out a dagger from another one, and motioned to Arran to hold out his hand. Tentatively he stretched out his hand. He was slightly afraid that she would hurt him badly. She looked at him reassuringly, then deftly pricked his palm. A few drops of blood welled up, which acain quickly wiped up with snow-white cloth. She sat for a while, studying the pattern his blood had made on the cloth.