So Many What-Ifs

The road she walked felt smooth and... wrong.
No thrilling adventures nearing.
She sought and yearned for twists and turns,
yet wandered a hundred clearings.

On bright and sunny days she searched
for dark and dangerous business.
But all was fine, no signs of crime,
nor villainy did she witness.

She met no princes, found no foes, 
no dragons delayed her travels.
She longed for quests and fiends to best;
missed mysteries to unravel.

She’d venture off the beaten path,
convinced that trials awaited.
But each new trek just brought her back
to the safe lanes which she hated.

Before she'd ever found a quest
— a chance to prove she could do this —  
the road she’d roamed had lead her home,
where crowds would shout she’d been foolish.

She steeled her nerves, her head held high;
she couldn’t appear defeated.
To her surprise, she first heard cries,
then cheers with which she was greeted.

A hero's welcome, feast and all:
a palatial celebration.
They praised her grit, and brilliant wit,
as her nerves spurred fraught sensations.

They’d got it wrong, this wasn’t her!
Her journey had not been daring.
“You have prevailed! Please tell your tales!”
But she found no words worth sharing.

“I saw you save a wounded sprite!”
Said a man who’d come to greet her.
She knew he meant an incident,
with a small, frail, fallen creature.

Was that of note? She could not tell,
and before she’d found her bearings,
a girl chimed in with other things
she had not thought worth declaring.

Her eyes grew wide, as through the night,
from their lips she heard her stories.
And so she learned, that she’d returned
a hero, now known for glories.