I was moving forward at a moderate pace when I passed through the portal. The pain of delaying that very first time had taught me to move with a purpose when the light appeared. Fortunately the room was small enough I hadn’t picked up much speed, because as soon as I stepped through the portal I crashed face first into an evergreen tree. I cursed and spat pine needles from my mouth as I fought my way back out away from the plant.

As soon as I was far enough out to have a clear view of my surroundings I realized I was in for a world of hurt. There were trees in every direction and I was stranded in the middle of a forest with directions to make my way to the next city. It would be nice to know which direction that was in. I fought down my rising panic by focusing on my breathing. I was definitely a city girl at heart. I’d been camping exactly one time in my entire life, to me staying at the inn with hand pumped well water you had to carry upstairs in buckets had been the epitome of roughing it. I had no idea how I would survive in a forest. I was intelligent though, and I’d seen plenty of survival themed tv shows or movies. I told myself I could do this as I turned a slow 360, examining each direction and trying to differentiate a path that would somehow be superior to the others.

The plant life seemed evenly distributed. Trees and shrubs lay in wait in all directions, there didn’t seem to be a clear path through any of it. I wasn’t 100% sure, because it was a subtle difference, but it seemed as if the land rose over to the right and fell away to the left. I decided it was true and headed gingerly uphill. My theory was that high ground should offer a batter vantage point. If I got to the top of a hill and climbed a tree, perhaps I would be able to see past the vast wall of greenery and locate my destination.

It was slow going. The smaller vines and bushes seemed to cling at my pant legs with every step, and larger branches from the trees that I pushed out of my way seemed to snap back with a vicious bite. In no time at all I was starting to sweat, despite the fairly low temperature and I wondered what I would do for water when the time came. I stopped to rest when I located a fallen tree that made a convenient seat.

Raising the hem of my shirt and wiping the sweat from my face, I sighed in abject misery and thought longingly of the shower back in my cell. I dropped my gaze down to the ground at my feet, and after a few moments looked further out trying to measure before looking back the way I had come to pick out landmarks. I confirmed it then and started to swear. I may have started out traveling uphill, but somewhere along the way I had shifted course while navigating through the obstacles. I had veered left, then left again, until at this point I was heading in almost the exact opposite direction than the one I had chosen. If all I could do was wander in the woods in circles until I ran out of food or predators got me, this was going to be a singularly unpleasant way to die.

I wasn’t a quitter though. I stood and headed uphill again, taking a careful bearing on a tree in the distance and heading constantly towards it. When I reached that landmark I took careful note of my course and chose another. One tree at a time I made my slow progress up the hill, making sure my new landmark always lined up with a previous one. The way grew steeper and navigating easier as it seemed the plant life grew further apart. Eventually I was leaning far forward to keep my balance on the hill and I hacked down a sapling and trimmed the branches on the end to use as a walking stick. My perseverance paid off and within another hour or so I’d gained the top of a small ridge. The land sloped off away from me in two directions, while the ridgeline itself seemed to snake forward into the distance. I selected a large oak tree that had massive branches fairly parallel to the ground that looked more than adequate to hold my weight. I would use that to get up high and see if I could find the edge of the forest.

Tree climbing was not my forte. I can go up a rope in the gym, but there was no way to wrap my arms and legs around the entire tree trunk. The lowest branch was just barely out of my reach even when I tried a running start and stepping off the trunk itself. I thought about taking off my bandeau and trying to throw it over the branch at the peak of my jump. The silk should be strong enough I could climb up, but the odds of making a successful throw and catch with such split second timing didn’t seem good. I finally decided that slow and steady would win the race. A half hour of hacking into the trunk of the tree with my belt knife gave me a series of hand and footholds that weren’t pretty but looked serviceable enough. I made my way carefully up to the lowest limb and pulled myself into the tree. From there progress was easier. This forest giant was old enough all the smaller limbs with leaves were far from the center and I could climb straight up the core, from one branch to the next. I kept going until I could feel the tree itself sway in reaction to the wind, and the branch I was on shifted alarmingly with my weight. That seemed to be my limit and I laid down flat on the branch and inched myself away from the trunk. My perch began to dip as my weight grew closer and closer to the edge, which opened a gap in the foliage and allowed me to see out into the countryside.

There were mountains that disappeared into mist in the extreme distance, with nothing but a see of green within walking distance. I choked back a sob, adamant I would not give into despair and slowly started to shift back. I could only see one side of the ridge I was on from here, I would have to try the other. On this side the branch was sturdier, and it came with a handy limb parallel and about 5 feet higher I could use as a handrail, so I walked out on this one. Once again a great vista opened up before me, and I saw nature’s beauty where I longed for the cramped streets and acrid stench of huddled masses of humanity. The forest didn’t extend unbroken though, because I could see a wide meandering line through the trees running perpendicular to my ridge. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at at first, it just seemed to be a darker spot where I could see further into the next row of trees than usual, but I quickly realized it must be a road. Nothing else I could think of could account for the straight path devoid of trees cutting through this vast wilderness. I looked up at the sun, trying to get a direction, but all I could tell was that it was the middle of the afternoon. East or west could be almost any direction, so I looked back at my tree trunk and drew an imaginary line cutting straight towards the closest break in the trees.

I stared at the tree I was in until the line seemed burned in my memory, and slowly began to work my way back down. I had shifted enough in the treetop that I was no longer above my hard wrought handholds, but I just lowered myself from the branch to the full extension of my arms and dropped lightly to the ground. I looked back at the now familiar tree trunk and located the spot where my imaginary line should have bisected it. I placed my back there and stuck my hand out straight forward, sighting on a stunted pine that looked like it had been struck by lightning in the distant past. That would be my first marker and I sat out into the woods towards it. I traveled more cautiously now, checking and rechecking my bearings each time I reached a new landmark. I tried keeping a pace count so I could accurately judge the distance I’d traveled, but kept losing my place when I had to detour around an obstacle or something distracted me. I persevered, and though hours passed eventually I caught the faint sounds of voices in the distance.

A wide smile crossed my face, not only had I found a road, but there were people present who could point me to the nearest city. Thinking of the expensive ring in my coin pouch I mentally amended that. They could be persuaded to give me a ride to the nearest city. I wasn’t naive though. I knew in this world that strangers often represented danger, so I kept my speed slow and tried to minimize the noise of my passage as I crept forward to close in on the sounds. The voices were elusive, and I never could quite make out words although the sound itself got louder. It was constant too, and I wandered how many were present and if they were speaking in a foreign language. It wasn’t until I finally reached the edge of the treeline that I realized my mistake.

There in the clearing, the straight line devoid of trees had indicated not a road but a small river or stream. The voices I’d heard so clearly had been the chuckling of the water over rocks in a small stretch of rough current. I rose up from the crouch I had been walking in, and walked stiff legged to the water. I flopped down on the bank feeling defeated, and scooped up a long cool drink of water for my dry throat. At least I had water now, and I could always hunt for food. I could live here forever as some kind of savage hunter gatherer and spent the last of my short brutal life all alone. I started to cry then, and lay down on the bank of the river and just let it come.

When I had it all out of my system I felt better, and I washed my face and took another drink. I even used the opportunity to take a quick whore’s bathe in the running water and remove most of the travel grime on my body before I got back to my feet. I had two choices now, upstream or down. WIth the idea that this body of water might join a larger one, and medieval cities tended to be located on navigable waterways I chose down and started to walk. The going was easier here at the water’s edge. There were high grasses and the occasional sandbar, but I didn’t have to fight through underbrush or dodge trees like I had earlier. I walked for what seemed like miles, but could have been less. I didn’t really have an accurate way to measure the distance except for elapsed time. I knew several hours had passed because the light was slowly starting to fade, and it occured to me I needed to find a safe place to make camp.

I wasn’t really sure what counted as a good campsite, but I saw a relatively flat piece of level ground that didn’t have much plant life and was free of ant nests or any other visible hazards. That would have to do for now. It was a quick trip into the woodline to gather a couple of fallen limbs and the material necessary to make a fire. I’d never done this before but had seen it on television a million times. I chose a small rock from the stream that fit easily in my hand and struck the back of my knife against it to throw a spark. Nothing happened but a dull chink sound so I tried again, varying the angle and intensity. The second attempt was unsuccessful too, so I kept on, beating that knife blade like it owed me money but never obtaining a spark. In a fit of frustration I hurled the rock back into the stream and then walked over and obtained another. Maybe the type of rock played a roll in this endeavor, so I looked for one with a different color and grain than the first. When I had one that seemed right I returned to my quest for fire, and again managed to strike the steel repeatedly with no result.

There was something wrong with this technique, and I wondered if my knife had to be made of a certain type of metal before it would work. I gave it up as a waste of time, but the temperature was dropping along with the light, and I wanted a fire for heat as well as to ward off predators. I decided to go real old school and cut myself a slender rod and sat down criss cross applesauce net to my kindling. I placed the end of the rod on a scrap of wood, and started to twirl it back and forth between my palms. I worked furiously for a few minutes without a visible result. I lifted the end of the rod and touched it gingerly with the tip of a finger. It was definitely warm now, but I didn’t know how hot it had to be to actually ignite. I tried again. Rubbing and twirling, I had to slide my sleeves up over my hands to keep from developing bllisters. As the last of the light faded I continued to rub my sticks together in the dark. My hands hurt and my forearms ached as the moonlight came out in a soft gray glow that reflected from the water and let me see what I was working with. I wondered if a book of matches would have counted as an item or an amenity, and cursed myself for not at least asking when I was still in my cell.

The wind was picking up and it was getting seriously cold now, but this was obviously going nowhere. I dragged a downed limb over and dug into the dirt a little way with my knife to make a windbreak, and in that I was more successful than the fire. I curled up into a ball in the lee, before stretching back out and trying to smooth out a little bit more of a dip for my hip to fit more gently. I snuggled back into the fetal position, and despite the discomfort sleep finally claimed me. It didn’t last and I woke shivering in the dead of night. I had no idea how long I’d slept, but it was too cold to just lie here. I knew if I didn’t get up and get some blood moving I ran the risk of hypothermia, and I forced my aching joints to relax and stood up into the cold wind. I stepped through some stretches and then started working my forms. Aikido was all about redirecting force and flowing with the tide of battle, and each form could tie seamlessly in with the next. I kept them slow, focusing on precision over speed until I had run through a complete set, then repeated the routine at a slightly faster pace. I kept on, speeding up gradually every repetition in the same manner I did back home when I didn’t have time to make it in for a real session at the dojo. After twenty minutes I was moving at full speed, and while I wasn’t panting or out of breath, my pulse had increased and I didn’t feel quite so cold.

I sat back down as out of the wind as possible and hunched up over my knees. I wasn’t sleepy now, but it was probably too dark to travel successfully. I let my mind wander, replaying better times in my life and after a few moments my head nodded. In spite of my expectations I fell asleep again. The cycle continued to repeat, I’d wake up shivering and exercise until I got my blood flowing and my temperature back up, then drift back off to sleep for a while until it started over again. It was a miserable night, and with the first rosy hints of dawn on the horizon I set off downstream. I didn’t know how many more nights like that I would survive. I was terribly hungry this morning, and I didn’t want to think about just how many calories I would have to find each day just to keep from starving to death at night if I couldn’t get some kind of fire going.

As the sun took its place to supervise my day of travel, I noticed birds chirping in the trees above my head. I’d spent a lot of time on the softball field as a teen, and I was pretty sure I could take one of those with a rock. I was hungry enough not to be picky, but I wasn’t quite far enough gone I was willing to try raw bird. I was afraid of parasites and communicable diseases. Bird flue was a thing, and I’d heard countless warnings about salmonella. I didn’t know what the risks would be if I ate one of these songbirds raw, but I decided I should keep that as a last resort. Instead I tried to distract myself with thoughts of other things, and it worked for a while until I found myself fantasizing with disturbing detail about eating an Al Hambre special from the mexican restaurant near where I used to live. The grilled chicken pieces were gooey with cheese as I loaded them into the soft warm tortilla, and I shook my head to clear it and swallowed the drool that had been building in my mouth. I knelt down and took another long drink of water instead, hoping a full belly would help curb the feeling of hunger.

I walked on determined to cover enough distance to make it out of these endless woods. I stopped at midday because my feet hurt. I took off my boots and socks and soaked my feet in the stream as I reclined back on the bank and watched the clouds travel by overhead. It would have been idyllic if I weren’t stuck in such a desperate situation, and after I had rested a while I dried my feet off and pulled my socks back on. The boots were holding up much better than I had expected, and I slipped them on as well before continuing on my way. That night if anything was more dreadful than the first. I again failed to get a fire started, and was already exhausted before the ordeal. I still forced myself to rise and and move through my forms, but I was clumsier now and my full speed blows just didn’t have the snap they should have. I made it through the night on sheer will power alone, refusing to give in to my body’s weaknesses. When enough light had appeared I felt like I wasn’t at risk of twisting an ankle, I sat back out on my long walk.

My hunger had seemed to dissapear at some point over the course of my trip. Intellectually I knew I should be looking for a source of food as I travelled, but I couldn’t really manage to muster a sense of urgency about it. I plodded onward, ever onward, occasionally drinking from the stream but mostly just walking. My body ached and my eyes burned with fatigue, but I just kept going. Somewhere out there I knew there was an end to this task, and I just had to have enough heart to find it. I walked forward determined to keep going no matter what this world threw at me. In the end I almost missed it.

I was traveling in something like a haze. The monotonous scenery blending together in my head required little concious thought as I mechanically put one foot in front of the other and followed the water. When there was a change to the environment up ahead I didn’t even register it at first, I was so fixed on just traveling forward. My brain identified what I was seeing even on autopilot however and I found myself jolting to a stop as I stared. A trail cut through the forest, coming in perpendicular to the river. It was maybe 10 feet wide and gravel had been hauled in and dumped on each side of the water. There was no doubt in my mind that this had been created by human hands. I moved forward, more life in my step now and examined my find. The water grew shallow here, and gravel was clearly visible underneath the flowing water. This must be a ford of some sort, and the trail that led to it wasn’t quite important enough to justify the construction of a bridge.

I stood in the center of the trail and focused my attention in each direction, hoping for some indication of where I should go. A trail meant people and I was supposed to be looking for a city. Which side would be coming and which side would be going? There weren’t any distinctive features either way. A road sign was too much to hope for, but a dust cloud from a moving wagon in the distance or even a few wheel ruts in the road would have been pleasant. For all I could tell this trail had never been used before but I decided I had better follow it anyway. In the end I decided to head left so I wouldn’t have to wade across the ford and get my feet wet. It seemed like an arbitrary decision, but wet boots would leave me with blisters or possibly crippled depending on how much further I had to go. I did stop and drink as much water as I could possibly hold before I left. I didn’t have any kind of canteen or bottle to take any with me, and I didn’t know where I would find a water source again.

Walking on the smooth dirt road was even easier than paralleling the bank of the river. I opened up my stride and fell into a ground eating powerwalk, like the older ladies I used to see exercising at the shopping mall. Time passed and so did the miles, early evening found me an indeterminate distance on my way. I decided to skip stopping for the night. With the wide open smooth road in front of me I should be able to keep walking even when it got dark. I was exhausted but doubted I’d be able to get much sleep anyway. It made more sense to just keep travelling until I got to civilization. In the end such desperate measures weren’t necessary, because the trees started to thin out on one side and up ahead I caught sight of a log cabin.

My steps faltered momentarily, the surprise disrupting the rhythm I’d developed, but I settled back into that half lope as I moved closer. It was a long low building with a thatched roof setting back at an angle to the road. More importantly there was a corral to one side and a much larger pole barn and I could see horses moving about in their pen. Where there were livestock there were people, and where there were people there were fires and beds, even hot water for washing and food. My nights of abject misery were over and I felt a weary smile grow on my face. The cabin itself had heavy wooden shutters on the windows, and there was a kind of balcony jutting out above the door with crenellations on the top. Even though the structure was of wood it reminded me of the defensive structures you’d see on a castle and I wondered if they had hostile neighbors. That thought shot a bolt of caution through me, and I stepped out of the roadway into the treeline. I moved forward towards the cabin in a more cautious manner, striving to see without being seen. Only when I had scoped the situation out and was sure I could do it safely would I move in and try to arrange a deal with the occupants.

I came up to the edge of the cleared area and started to make my way around the perimeter, looking for anything that would tell me anything. There was a small patch of ground that had been cleared and planted with a garden. I couldn’t resist a furtive trip from out of the treeline and carried back a cucumber. It was gone before I made it back into cover and I had to resist the urge to go back looking for more. The pole barn was more of a lean to in construction, and from the back I could see that one side was open to the elements. I moved forward again to get a closer look at the contents of the barn. Maybe I could count saddles or something, I wanted a way to put a number to the people who lived in the cabin. What I saw when I got close enough to make out details put a chill down my spine, and I carefully backed back into the brush. There were long chains suspended along the length of the barn, four of them in total. Along each chain every couple of feet dangled an open manacle, and at least a hundred souls would be crowded into the barn if it were at capacity. I had come across a slave coffle, and that changed things dramatically. If this had just been the out of the way cabin of some farmer, a reclusive hermit maybe, or a trader who picked a real shitty location I would have gone up to the front door looking for a deal. The fact that the residents here routinely traded in human flesh though, what were the odds they’d trade me peacefully for the gold and gems in my pocket? Maybe I’d get knocked in the head and cuffed to the chains like the rest, or maybe I’d just wind up in a shallow grave out back. Either way I was rating my risk as a lot higher than I had previously.

I continued to circle the property until I found a good location where I could watch both doors to the cabin, and settled in to watch what happened. It turned out the answer to that was not much. After a few hours a man came outside and pumped the handle of an old manual well until it filled his bucket with water. He carried it back inside and the door slapped shut behind him. I decided that nobody was here except for whoever was inside the cabin now, and while the building was big enough to hold plenty of people, I doubted that many were present. I moved forward cautiously, staying in cover as much of possible, and making sure I didn’t outline myself in front of any of the windows. I made it up to a corner that was relatively blind, and circled the building slowly, listening to the noises that came from under the eaves. There seemed to be only one room occupied, in a room right next to the rear door. I only heard two different voices engaged in conversation. Part of me was pretty sure I could take them both if it came down to it, especially if I kicked in the door and attacked with no warning. Even though they were slave traders though, wasn’t that just an artifact of living in this world? Could I murder two men in cold blood just because they had a morally reprehensible job? I was trying to come up with an idea to negotiate with them safely as I listened to their conversation. Then I heard a statement that changed my mind yet again.

“I hope there’s some young stuff in the shipment this time. I need to get my dick wet and I’m tired of old women and young boys.”

The other guy chuckled in response and I decided these guys weren’t necessary for the gene pool in any way. The assholes couldn’t have done a better job of pushing all my buttons if they had tried, and that was their problem. I shifted my baton into my left hand and drew my sword in my right. I would try the blade first but switch over if I started to get pressed. I sat myself in front of the door, and started a series of deep breaths before I would kick in the door. It occured to me that this wasn’t a raid on some crack house in a bad neighborhood with barred windows and three deadbolts. This cabin was in the middle of nowhere, and on a whim I reached forward and delicately rocked the handle instead of kicking it in. There was no lock in place, and I swiftly pushed the door open in case they’d seen the knob move. I was already inside before they registered my arrival and both men shouted but neither moved decisively enough to survive. I slashed with the sword and that beautiful new blade took just the tip off his shoulder as it passed before cleanly beheading the first who was still turning to face me. I’d expected more resistance than that and my follow through left the point up towards the ceiling behind me, but I spun my wrist around to point it forward and lunged towards the man who had just stood, his hand clawing at a sheathed sword at his side. My blade slammed into his chest and penetrated out his back in a welter of blood, and I immediately jerked it back trying to regain control. The passed along his sternum on the return, and I’m pretty sure nicked the bone. The man hit his knees, frothing bubbles of blood coming from his nose and mouth. I had apparently punctured a lung with that strike, and he fell over dead. I kept my blade up and stalked through the rest of the house quickly, just to make sure I was still alone. It was unnecessary, there were no more people present, although I found some dirty clothes that were almost foul enough to stand on their own.

I returned to the kitchen where I’d first entered the building and used a scrap of cloth from one of the men’s shirts to wipe down my blade. After I’d sheathed it I dragged both bodies outside and around behind the house so they wouldn’t be visible from the road. I went back in and did a half hearted job of cleaning some of the gore from the walls with clothing from one of the bedrooms, but gave up before it was truly sanitary. The smell of roast meat from the hearth, and the half eaten pan of biscuits on the table were too much of a distraction, and I gratefully ate my fill before I started working again. I tossed the entire house searching for anything with writing on it. I wanted a map or an atlas, some way to determine where exactly I was and how to reach the nearest city. I also kept my eye out for some kind of fire starting kit. The guys from the kitchen had to have had some way to light the fire they cooked on after all. There was no luck on a map, but hanging from a peg near the fireplace I found a square stone that had something shiny that looked almost like quartz embedded in it with a hole drilled through, and a small piece of metal threaded onto the same leather thong. I scraped the tiny metal blade along the rock and threw a scatter of sparks a couple of feet in the air. I draped that leather thong over my head, happy I had the low tech version of a cigarette lighter now.

The adrenaline of the brief battle was dropping away and my exhaustion was returning. It was already shifting to darkness outside and I decided it was worth the risk to have a single night of uninterrupted rest. There was a heavy bar I could use to lock the front door. It was a heavy oak affair with what looked like cast iron brackets on the door jamb, and I didn’t have any doubts it would be secure. The back door only had a simple leather loop you could pass over a peg, likely intended to just hold the door against an unexpected wind. I butted the table up to the closed door and then carried blankets and a pillow from the back bedroom. I built up the fire in the hearth until it was roaring merrily, profligate with the stack of firewood someone else had painstakingly split and stacked. I built myself a little nest of blankets on top of the table, sure that if anyone tried to force the door it would wake me immediately. I planned to sleep here for the night and continue on along the road at dawn, taking as many comfort items with me as seemed practicable.

I’d failed to account for just how exhausted my days in the forest had left me. Rather than waking up with the dawn, or even at a more reasonable hour at 7 or 8, I slept like the dead. The noise of traffic on the road woke me with my heart in my throat and an urgent need to pee. I didn’t have time to make it out to the outhouse without being seen, but I couldn’t hold it either. A large basin from the kitchen served as an impromptu bedpan, and as I squatted awkwardly on top of it and finished my business, for one of the few times in my life I found myself envious of men. How much simpler it would be to just stand up and piss in a jug in these emergency situations. I wouldn’t trade it away for the ability to have multiple orgasms though, so I buckled my pants back up and crept to the window to see what was approaching.

A mass of humanity was shuffling along the roadway, men, women, and children secured to one another by hemp ropes strung from neck to neck. There was barely enough slack to account for variations in height and they traveled through the path in a narrow bunch. There was a mounted man in front, and three other horsemen spread out at the rear of the group, like herdsman shooing the livestock along. Part of me just couldn’t understand what I was seeing. How could 4 men with nothing but basically long knives hold 25 or 30 captive? I could see that the people’s hands were tied, but they outnumbered their captors 5 or 6 to 1. They walked with a defeated air though. The group was head down and shuffling along, only the smallest of children carried by others with the energy to look up and around. I stared at the party as the first rider drew up in front of the cabin and the rest of the riders started chivvying their charges off of the road and into the clearing. I was suddenly faced with a crisis of conscience.

There was no question in my mind that the men I’d killed had been confederates of these slave traders. There would be no bluffing my way out of this, I would have to take on all four of them if I wanted to leave here as a free woman. On the other hand, I didn’t exactly owe anything to the captives shuffling into the clearing. None of the four had an angle on the back door yet, and I could slip out into the woods. I could circle around to the road and be on my way to the nearest city before anybody ever knew to look for me. I wasn’t a cop in this world. Hell, for all I knew the simulation evaluated players who had been real dicks before they died and placed them n those situations after the mind wipe as some sort of instant karma. Even as I had the thought the level of self deception and self serving bullshit it contained disgusted me. How many drunken evenings had I claimed the German people should have stood up to the Nazis, or that everyone who hadn’t gotten off their asses and marched with King in the 60’s were complicit? In the comfort of my old world I’d run my mouth and espoused high ideals, now I was confronted with slavers and debated my course.

The sound of a child crying carried through the window and I was galvanized into action. I stalked through the cabin to the front door, and pulled the crossbar up laying it gently to the side out of the way. I put my back to the wall next to the door and listened intently to the noise on the other side. Men’s voices were talking, bitching about Clem and David who were supposed to meet them here. I had a sneaking suspicion those were the names of the men who were now slowly stiffening in the dirt right behind the outhouse. There was the soft whisper of a blade whispering from a sheath and a soft voice called a warning to his friends that caused me to take a deep breath and prepare myself.

“Might be trouble. I’m going to force the door and check things out on the inside. Alan, Steve, keep an eye on the slaves, Jarod be ready to back me up.”

The speaker must have been planning on a shock and awe sort of tactic, because he gave a bloodcurling howl like a wolf as he slammed his boot into the front door. I’d already removed the bar though, and the door flew open with only the pull of gravity resisting him. He was still mid-howl as I spun into the opening and opened up his throat. The sound cut off in a spray of blood and he was dead on his feet as I charged past him. His backup had faster reflexes, because he managed to block the stroke that would have disemboweled him. Our swords clanged together and my wrists took one hell of a shock. He was just stronger than me and I didn’t have the skill necessary to negate his brute force. His blade pushed mine wide, leaving us both open but him with the blade closest to flesh. Unfortunately for him he’d let me inside for the strike, and I rammed my knee into his groin. His sword arm lost power like I’d flipped a switch and he doubled over. I reflexively took his head, striking at the base of his neck without thinking about it. As his body hit the ground I brought my sword up to guard position and surveyed my surroundings.

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The captives were milling about and I saw at least one with enough spirit he had his bound hands up to his mouth, furiously chewing at the ropes. Someone on the far side must have tried something similar because the guard on the far side of the mass was shouting and flailing at someone with what I hoped was the flat of his blade. I didn’t see the fourth, and I stepped forward and scooped up my former opponents sword and tossed it to the captives. There’s not really a safe way to throw someone a bare sword but I did the best I could to keep it underhanded and easy to dodge. Folks still scattered out of the way, but a few were pointing and yelling.

I followed their outstretched hands and then yelped and darted back into the safety of the cabin. I had nearly lost my own head to a cavalry charge from the last asshole I’d lost track of. Despite the shoulted curses of his rider the horse refused to follow me through the doorway of the cabin. I welcomed the respite, but didn’t take long to enjoy it. The horse and rider had come clear up onto the porch under the overhanging ceiling when he tried to run me down. I bouced off a wall to spin around, and charged back out of the cabin screaming and waving my arms. The horse reared back from me, but rather than unseating the rider he just cussed me and leaned flat against the beasts neck while he swung his sword. I was much to far out of position to deflect it so I didn't even try. Instead I dove to the ground under the horses flailing front hooves and rolled clear. I came up on the other side and sliced through the riders thigh and a bit of the saddle as the horse dropped back down. Apparently of its own accord the horse wheeled on me then, and I barely had time to dodge back as white teeth snapped in front of my face. I didn’t even know that horses could bite, always picturing them as the majestic grass eaters just a single horn from being the unicorn best friend of my child self’s dreams.

Not in this world. The rider was clutching at his wound with one hand, while he swung the sword at me with the other. I backpedaled, dodging and slipping his swings because I didn’t think I was strong enough to block a downward strike from that height. The entire time the horse followed me without apparent direction from his rider. There was renewed shouting and commotion from the gaggle of people behind me, and I hoped it was because they were freeing themselves and not because the second rider was coming to finish me off. I risked a quick glance over my shoulder and it was a mistake. Before I could take in anything other than a confused blur of motion I stumbled. I pitched to the side and abused the sword horribly in a slash at the dirt to keep myself up. A couple of fast steps into the fall and the resistance my strike gave me were enough to keep me on my feet, but I’d given my weak side to the enemy by turning into it. Even as I pivoted back to dodge the blow that should have been coming I felt myself clenching my abdominal muscles like that would do anything to stop the intrusion when the metal of his blade ripped through my body.

The blow didn’t fall. A slender woman with disheveled hair and a bandage on her bicep has hanging onto his sword arm, trying to pull the rider from his saddle. Another much man charged past me and flung himself on the horses head. Blinding the animal with his bulk, he tucked its head into his armpit and clamped on, apparently fearless of being bitten or trampled beneath its hoofs. I moved forward to help but already an elderly man on the far side had shoved the riders foot out of the stirrup and he pitched sideways onto the ground. The rest of the freed prisoners swarmed him, punching and kicking. They were probably as much a danger to each other as the man on the ground, but I stayed back clear of the fray. I was panting for breath from my own desperate battle and looked back near the roadway to make sure of the fourth man. He lay bloody and broken in the trampled dirt, and an old woman squatted above him as she pissed on his upturned face. These people held grudges it seemed, and the slave traders had not been popular with their charges. I shrugged, oddly unconcerned with the indignity and headed back towards the cabin. I wanted a rag to clean off my blade, and maybe I should grab some food and bring it outside. Some of these people looked like they had been without for a while.

I’d only completed the first half of my mission and sheathed my blade when a voice called out to me. “Stranger, you, the woman with the blade.” I figured out he was calling for me and turned to find the old man who had overturned the mounted guard. He looked to be a hard lived fifty,, or maybe in his well preserved sixties. I could tell his hair was normally silver where it wasn’t matted down by blood and other filth. He had two black eyes and some serious swelling going on in his nose, when you combined it with the wrinkles it wasn’t a pretty picture. I nodded over at him to show that I’d heard him call me, and he gave me a practiced bow that was at odds with the rags on his body and his haggard appearance. “We owe you a debt of thanks. I don’t know what prompted you to risk the baron’s wrath, but our entire village was destined for the silver mine if you had not intervened.”

This seemed like the perfect time to gather some intel, and I abandoned my earlier plans. The freed prisoners weren’t hesitating to loot the place themselves by any means. I gestured toward the edge of the rough wooden porch. The old man followed me over and we both sat, although he took it pretty cautiously like he had more injuries under the ragged tunic he wore.

“I’m not from around here at all. I actually got lost in the forest and stumbled into all of this mess by accident.”

“Your loss is our gain. You’re speaking to the former headman of the village of Hollow Oak. We worked land in common for Baron Samuels, House of Tilden. Cursed blight got into our wheat, and we watched as the grain rotted in the fields. The bastard Samuels has a gambling problem, we would have gotten a forbearance if his old man was still alive. As it was the taxman came and we couldn’t pay.”

The old man closed his eyes and shook his head, some scene that couldn’t bear the light of day rerunning on his eyelids. After a moment he gave some sort of honking cry, like a cross between a sob and a sneeze and focused on me again.

“Next thing you know there were troops in our village. Raiding us like we were some outlyer savages. Some of the hale men ended up dead in the fighting, most of the attractive young women disappeared. The rest of us trussed up about like you found us. We’ve been walking ever since. Number of guards has dwindled as we got further from home, but I doubt we’d have had the nerve to try anything till we reached the mountains and the garrison that guards the silver mines.”

He shook his head, ashamed of his own frailty and I tried to keep a compassionate tone as I responded.

“You’re free now, and I guess that’s all that really matters. Where will you go now? Do you know the area?”

“Me? I’ve never been more than a day’s walk from Hollow Oak before in my life. We’ll make do somehow, though. Plenty of villages here and there that’ll take in a soul or two without troubling the gentry about it. None of us had been branded yet. A couple of the younger folk might make a try for a city, but that’s not the life we know.”

“Where are these villages, what’s the closest city to here? Have you seen some kind of map or heard travelers tales?”

He seemed a little taken aback by my questions, and I guessed that I had pressed the issue with too much force. I made a conscious effort to take a deep breath and lean back some, giving him space. He seemed to settle down but still watched me warily when he answered.

“I guess young Edwin might know where we are. He was apprenticed to a traveling peddler when he was a boy. Settled down in Hollow Oak and married Swallia, took up a proper trade after that.”

I nodded and forced myself to exchange a few platitudes with the old man before I took my leave. It was always darkest before dawn, and enough willing hands could shift any burden. He looked like he desperately wanted to believe what he was saying, but I could see the fear of the unknown eating away at him inside. I moved through the newly minted refugees, accepting a tearful hug from a weeping older woman and returning some sort of warriors salute from a man whose torso was covered in bandages and had blood and pus oozing from an empty eye socket. Children were already playing in the yard though, and women folk were passing out food while a large cauldron was bubbling over a fire they had built in the side yard.

I kept asking and eventually found young Edwin. He was older than I was, and slightly overweight. It didn’t seem to slow him as he and three others were busy hacking at a pell in the stableyard under the direction of a single man with only one arm but a tremendous beard over his pot belly. He called a halt to their exercises and ambled over to me as the other men stood panting in place.

“Tradition says most of the blades belong to you by right of conquest, but I hope you won’t begrudge the men the means to defend their families.”

“You know enough to give them adequate instruction?”

He waved his stump at me and wiggled his eyebrows. “Time was I was a fair hand with a blade. Might have done some good if I hadn’t been piss drunk when the raiders came.” He shrugged then, like a man who couldn’t be expected to control the weather before he continued. “I know enough to recognize you don’t rate that dueling sword you carry. You’re fast and got some moves on you right enough, but an actual dueling master would have torn through those four like shit through a goose. Ought to cover that hilt until you’ve mastered it, otherwise you might end up a trophy on someone’s wall.”

I hadn’t realized the hand carved symbols in the ivory carried any meaning. I had assumed they were there for decoration and to aid with grip. As soon as he mentioned it though, I thought back to the man with the katana who had fought with us on the escape from the villa and realized he was probably right. It was too late to do anything now and I just shrugged at him.

“I get by. Keep the swords if you want. I just want to talk to Edwin.”

Edwin was happy enough to talk to me, because he’d seen me cut down a few of the Baron’s men. The man was nothing but a walking, talking, ball of rage despite his pudgy appearance. Swallia, the love of his life had been cut down in front of him, and his infant child’s brain dashed out on the paving stones as he was too weak to make the journey. Edwin had been laid low with a single fist from a guardsmen that night, but he swore that he’d take his revenge. I didn’t try to talk him out of it, like some of the villagers who heard his angry promises. I just nodded and asked him for information. There was shifting and movement in the group around us and when I looked up I saw the people who’d been involved with taking down the guard, as well as a fair percentage of the gray heads. Apparently the movers and shakers amongst the refugees were interested in this as well.

Evan knelt in the bare dirt of the side yard and started to scribe a rough map into the ground, explaining as he went.

“This track we’re on eventually curves up here and turns into a mule trail up into Kingdom mining camps. There’s a garrison permanently stationed at the base, and some freeholders in this area here that trade produce with the soldiers. This river cuts through on a low ford here and there’s miles of forest to the north. A few lumber camps run by a merchants guild out of Hobbesia somewhere in there but they’re always shifting. We’re somewhere around here. Back this way you start to hit settled lands. I think they’re held in fief to Somerset, but I’m not real sure. The road T’s here though, and if you followed it South you’d retrace our steps. A week or three on foot if you were setting a sane pace to Hollow Oak I’d imagine.”

A couple of the others nodded their heads at this part. Apparently they at least recognized the way they’d come, even if they had been harried along at a forced march. It wasn’t exactly a stirling guarantee of the map’s accuracy, but I found it reassuring all the same. Edwin wasn’t paying attention to my doubts though, he continued to talk.

“If you follow the T north it will pass through the free town of Canton. Run by merchants on a charter from the King. As long as no one recognizes you as a tax forfeiture it’s probably the safest place for most of you. Up past Canton you’ll hit the Kingsway.”

At my blank look he sighed and expanded. “The Kingsway is a big well maintained road the runs the breadth of the kingdom. Paid for by the crown, the local landowner aren’t allowed to charge tolls for its use. It connects pretty much every city in the Kingdom.”

“Show me where I’d find Kantia.”

He looked up at me with a kind of puzzled frown but when I gave him a hard stare he just shrugged. “Well, it isn’t exactly to scale because I wanted to show detail on this bit here that was close. The kingsway would actually start about here and run this way.” He drew another line parallel to the first a good 3 or 4 inches further away than before. Then he pointed to the side. “Kantia would be over kind of were Steven is standing, near the eastern coast.”

My face fell as any hope of making it on foot to see Cate in person were dashed. I shook it off and leaned forward and tapped the spot on the map he’d called Canton. “This is the closest city to here, you’re sure?”

“No that’s the free town. Closest city would be Humert. Up through Canton to the Kingsway, then back west a ways. Probably only 20 or 30 miles from here as the crow flies, but traveling the roads it’s a fair bit. I wouldn’t head there though if I were you, Humert has a pretty rough reputation.”

“Thanks, Edwin. You’ve been a big help.”

I stood up and walked away while the rest of the brain trust started to debate. I could already tell that the former villagers would splinter. If the Baron sent men looking for them when they didn’t turn up at the mines, scattering was the only hope they had of escaping detection. As I picked through the gear that had been on the bodies and the items from the slaver’s house, I noticed quite a few villagers were doing the same. Some folks looked almost panicky, throwing the first thing they saw into a bundle, overloading themselves and getting ready to run off down the road and get captured by the first men they saw. Others were making themselves comfortable, sprawled out on the cheap straw mattresses. I saw an old woman directing children to pick produce from the garden and I somehow got the impression they were planning on moving in. That was a road to ruin once the next crew of slavers came along. There was no way they’d be able to hold this little cabin against an armed threat. I tried to stick to my own business though, gathering a leather water bottle and a rough woolen blanket. I rolled the blanket up to make a bundle I could strap over my shoulder, then cut some thin strips of linen off of a pillow case and carefully wrapped my sword handle. It was a painstaking process, trying to leave something snug enough I would have a sure grip but still cover the carvings completely. I took a single dried sausage and a wedge of cheese that were hanging in the kitchen and shoved them in my bundle. The true mother lode came when one of the villagers managed to finally lure in one of the frightened horses.

I’d already decided I was traveling overland and had no designs on the horseflesh. I was more than happy to take first crack at the saddlebag when it was offered to me though. There were a handful of coins that I turned over to the villagers, an extra pair of socks with a hole over the big toe, a mess kit and a small bag of what looked like lentils. The only thing I really wanted though was in a dark stained heavy little wooden box. I twisted loose the leather clasp over the wooden toggle and opened the box to reveal a tiny needle floating in a cloudy glass bubble. I extended my arm and slowly shifted it to the left. The needle drifted against the motion and I grinned, proud that I had found a compass. I shifted the wooden box to the top of my own rolled blanket, and nodded at the rest.

“Help yourselves. I’m headed out.”

There was a chorus of good byes and good lucks, as well as a good number who seemed not to give a damn as I navigated through the yard and over to the roadside. Edwin was there, new sword clutched in his pudgy fist.

“Are you going after the Baron?”

“No, you poor dumb bastard, and if you have any sense neither will you. Would your wife want you to throw your life away in a futile gesture?”

“I think my wife would want to not be murdered, and our child not to follow her into the same mass grave. I’ll avenge my family, woman. You can swear oath on that.”

“I wish you luck with it then, Edwin. Try not to let it consume you. I’ve business of my own that takes me away.”

“What was your name?”

“Julia.”

“Thank you , Julia, for giving me this chance.”

He turned and stalked away then, his dumpy figure both tragic and somehow terrifying in his single minded determination. I turned back towards the road and saw the slender woman with the hollow eyes and the bandaged arm standing there with a bundle on her back. She had an axe like you’d use to split wood in her hands and her lips set in a determined line.

“Where are you going?”

“With you. They took me there in that village when we were first captured, and not a single one of my damn neighbors raised a finger to help. I begged and pleaded to rise up against the bastards every mile of that forced march, and again no one would help. You threw that sword that cut us free. You helped us cut down the vermin. I’m going with you. I can fight.”

I looked at her, and saw something in her eyes that I’d once seen in a mirror a long time ago. It made me look away and sigh. I would drop through the portal as soon as I reached Humert, and it wouldn’t do this woman any favors to abandon her on her own in a strange city.

“What’s your name, girl?”

“Sharon.”

“Sharon, I’m Julia. The first thing you’re going to do is get rid of that damn axe. It’s a strong man’s weapon, the kind of thing you use to beat down resistance. You’re not stronger than a man and you never will be, so don’t try it. What you can be is faster, and smarter. Do you understand?”

She looked like she had her doubts but she dropped the axe at her feet. I nodded, at least she was willing to listen. I didn’t have much time, but I would do what I could to help before I left. “Hold up your hands like we’re going to fight?”

“What?”

“You’ve seen idiots in the village fist fight, right? You’re not planning to pull hair or scratch if you get attacked again, put up your hands.”

She balled her hands into fists and I stepped to the side and appraised her. At least she hadn’t tucked her thumb under her fingers, that was a good way to dislocate it. I moved around her, making minor adjustments to her limbs. “Keep your feet as far apart as your shoulders but with the toes still pointing like that. Most of your weight back here, but that’ll switch off depending on what your doing. Turn your hands so the back of your arm is out, and relax your fist, just a loose curl.”

When I had her in the right place I continued. “Okay, when you throw a punch keep your arm loose, and tighten that fist up at the last second right before it hits. Try with your left hand.”

I held up a palm and she gave a tentative jab and I nodded encouragingly. “Go faster, and don’t straighten your elbow all the way out. The hand in front is fast, more to distract than hurt. When you punch with the back hand I want you to swivel at the waist and put your shoulder behind it. Come off the heel on that back foot like your squashing a bug with your toes. Do two front and one back real quick into the air.”

She shadow boxed and I corrected her form a few times and had her repeat. When it seemed like she had the hang of it I told her to squat. “No not like your trying to put your ass on the ground, more butt less knees and keep your back straight. Like this.” I dropped down and changed levels in a kind of modified horse stance. She copied the motion and I had her throw the punches again. A few more repetitions and I could see her thighs trembling with the unaccustomed strain and I told her to stand. “That’s called changing levels. Remember not to punch at something, but aim a couple of inches behind it. The faster you are the safer you’ll be, so hit first, hit often and keep going.” I pulled out the hem of my shirt and slid my free hand up to my breasts and pulled the punch dagger Cate had given me from my bandeau. I held in the palm of my hand briefly, reliving memories before I handed it to Sharon.

“Keep that in your right hand. You don’t have the mass to knock someone out yet, Sharon, and I don’t have the time to teach you the skill to make up for it. With the dagger or without, you only have two targets when you hit. The throat and the groin. Big arteries in each, and plenty of soft tissue if its the hand without the blade. Most men won’t take a skinny woman as a threat, come in hard and fast and you’ll probably survive.”

Her hand tightened on the dagger with a white knuckled grip. “Will you teach me more while we travel?”

I shook my head, frustrated that she hadn’t understood. Then I had an idea and my face softened. “Keep practicing, throw the punches from both levels. If you’ve got privacy and someone you can trust, spar without the dagger in your hands. I can’t teach you more right now though, because I have something I need you to do for me.” I reached into my coin pouch and grabbed one of the rings. I half turned so my body was blocking the view from the rest of the refugees, there was no sense giving anybody ideas. Sharon’s eyes bugged out when she saw the jewelry, it was probably more wealth than she had ever seen at one time in her life. I nodded and answered the unspoken question. “Yeah, it’s real. I’m giving it to you. I want you to sell it and use the money to travel to Kantia. I want you to find a place called The Walk Right Inn and give a woman named Cate a message. Can you do that for me?”

There was a hesitant look on her face, but gradually it resolved into her pursed lips and that same grim line of determination. She reached out and took the ring, tucking it down the front of her shirt. “I can do that for you, Julia. What’s the message?”

“Tell her I sent you. Tell her I didn’t have a choice about the way I left and I’ll get back as soon as I can. Tell her she can keep the money I left behind and I’ll explain someday. Tell her. . .” I trailed off as I thought about all the things that had been left unspoken between Cate and I. Had the bridge already been burnt and I had lost any chance for a relationship? Was a relationship even possible between a player and a denizen of this world? I shook my head and then looked back up at Sharon with a lump in my throat. “Tell her she has beautiful blue eyes.”

I turned around and started walking up the trail at a good clip then. I wasn’t just fleeing the slavers trailhouse and the refugees, but my own confused emotions. It was a much more difficult race and I heard Sharon’s voice call out behind me. “I’ll tell her, Julia. Good luck, and may the Goddess protect you.”

I kept my mouth shut and started to jog. A few minutes later I’d reached what I felt like was the halfway point back to the ford. The map hadn’t been exact, and I didn’t have a pedometer or anything to measure my steps, but it seemed like the place on the map I’d decided to turn North. I pulled out the wooden box and checked my new compass. It agreed with my sense of direction that I should head that way. I closed it back up and resettled my gear before heading into the forest.

The undergrowth wasn’t so thick that I had to resort to clearing my path with a blade, but it was a far cry from the straight smooth road I had left behind. My speed dropped down to a walk, and I kept having to deviate from my path to circle around obstacles. After a while I gave up on trying to keep my bearing mentally, and fished the compass back out and traveled with it in my hand to keep a course. I walked on through the heat of the afternoon, determined to make distance as quickly as possible. I drank sparingly from my canteen without stopping, and slowly penetrated deeper into the wilderness. At one point I heard something large moving through the brush to one side, but I never saw anything larger than a squirrel or the ever present birds.

Despite being in good shape, travelling cross country like this was using a set of muscles in a way I hadn’t really trained for and I could feel the burn. My cardio was up to the task, but I was still feeling pretty ragged when the light started to fade. Before full dark had fallen I started looking for a campsite. Slightly off my path a large tree had fallen in a storm an unknown time ago. The tree was completely dead, but the giant root ball that had been pulled from the ground formed a solid backdrop with the depression down out of the wind. I gathered broken branches from the top side of the tree, amassing a large pile of fuel next to my camp. With my new fire starter necklace I didn’t have any problem throwing sparks, but it took me a while to shave some bits of bark thin enough I could get them to actually light. By the time the sun had disappeared over the horizon and only the moon was up, I had a cozy fire burning in front of me and was wrapped up toasty warm in my stolen blanket. I grinned as a gust of cool wind swirled down into my campsite. I had met mother nature, and this time I kicked the bitch’s ass.

I fell asleep then, and woke to a bit of chill a few hours later with only embers in the hole I’d scraped in front of me. I extracted a single arm from my cocoon of the blanket, and reached for my pile of sticks. As I drew it closer I noticed eye shine only feet away. I froze in place, staring at the yellow glow of two eyes down level with my own. A low rumbling growl reached my ears and I carefully surveyed the night, placing two more animals in a loose semicircle around me. I continued my interrupted movement, moving slowly and watching for any reaction. I laid the stick into the embers and slowly started to ease the blankets from around my body. My free hand drifted back over to the pile of sticks and as it wrapped around one the growling increased in pitch. I drew the limb back towards me and as the far end of the limb rustled in the brush pile it triggered some instinct in the watching beasts. The set of eyes on the right rushed towards me, and I caught a flash of white teeth in the moonlight as I sat up and shoved the stick in it’s gaping mouth.

I screamed at them then, drowning out the wolves snarling as I lurched to my feet. The first animal tore the limb from my hand, but the first stick I’d dropped into the fire began to burn. Flickering light illuminated my danger as I awkwardly drew my sword with my off hand and kicked out at another of the animals. It shied away with inhuman reflexes, my boot hadn’t come close to touching it. I transferred my sword to my dominant hand then, and held it ready as I dragged limbs from the brush pile with my foot. Every time one of the wolves seemed to still, I shouted again and faked a half step toward it. It kept them milling about as I built the fire higher, and they retreated back to the edge of the light. I could see clearly now, and I was fully awake with a weapon in my hand. The instinctive fear of teeth in my flesh was still present, but it had become manageable. I walked around to stand in front of the fire. Backlit by the now roaring blaze, I cast a terrible shadow in front of me as I posed with my sword in the high guard.

“Come on then, you bastards. Momma needs a wolfskin coat.”

I screamed it into the night, putting all the threat I could muster into my command voice. The last of the eyeshine disappeared from the edges of the shadows, and I stood in the silence of a disturbed forest. A few minutes later, the low buzz of insects and other background critters started back up and I felt myself relax. That had been intense and I found myself wondering what would have happened if those wolves had found me my first couple of nights out in the open without a fire. That spurred another thought, maybe the smell of smoke itself had lured them in to investigate. Perhaps I had only now traveled into their territory. I didn’t really know, but I wouldn’t forego the advantage of light and the warmth starting a fire would offer me. I was sure of that. I’d built my current blaze up too high to sleep near it comfortably, but I wasn’t exactly relaxed enough for sleep anyway. I gathered more fuel for the fire so I could throw some in if it burned down to far before morning and settled down into a comfortable position with my sword bare across my thighs. I was determined not to be caught unaware.

I drifted off to sleep anyway, but I woke up every once in a while because I was in a sitting position. Each time I would check the fire, and every once in a while throw in another stick. When the morning light finally came through the tree tops I was more than ready for it. I took care of necessities in the lee of the fallen tree, then kicked dirt over the top of my fire. One final check of my compass to confirm my course, and I headed through the woods again. After a while it seemed like I had been trekking through an undifferentiated world of green forever. I had the compass now, and wouldn’t be doing the random wandering like the start of this task. From the map Edwin had drawn and the pace I had set, I felt confident I should reach the city by sometime this afternoon.

Hours came and went, and I kept walking North with no sign of human civilization. I finished my water bottle. It seemed useless to conserve it when I’d just dehydrate a little at a time instead of all at once anyway. The sun peaked in the sky and started gradually shifting towards dark and still I continued to walk. I knew the Kingsway led through Humert and ran east to west, so I couldn’t have gone off course and passed my destination. Surely I’d have noticed a large paved road through the middle of this wilderness. I resigned myself to steady travelling and continued on through the woods. When the light started to fall I was careful to look for a defensible location. No convenient downed trees or caves were available and I settled for two evergreens on a bit of a slope. I half climbed, half forced my way past the thin branches of the smaller tree until I could grip the trunk up near the top. I braced myself and pulled up my knees, my full weight hanging from my arms. The pressure on the slender tree top forced the entire tree to sag down towards me, and when my feet hit the floor I walked over towards the other evergreen, dragging the top of the other with me. I fed the branches of the two trees together, doing my best to weave it all into place. I wasn’t sure it would work until I tried it, but the trees were small and pliable enough, and grew closely enough together that when I backed away it held. I now had a backdrop that was secure-ish. An animal that could break through but the noise of doing so would at least give me some warning. I built two fires this time, each of them small and evenly spaced in front of me, and I settled down in the center of my triangle of evergreen and fire to wait out the night. I slept fitfully, more of a doze than any true sleep. Constantly feeding the fire and standing up to peer into the blackness, ears straining for the sounds of movement. There were no animals this time, either they’d learned to fear fire or maybe they’d found some of the refugees and their hunger was already sated with human flesh.

Up with the dawn I started again, following my compass to a city I was beginning to suspect existed only in Edwin’s imagination. I had no other choice though, and I continued to walk on through the cool of the morning. As the sun and the temperature continued to rise, my energy started to flag and my pace slowed, but I refused to stop. All of my fatigue was forgotten when a sound rang through the forest. It was a loud thump, the kind of mechanical sound that I could only imagine as coming from a human, and I searched my surroundings trying to spot where it had come from. It was only as the sound repeated that I was able to narrow it down, and I shifted course just a little bit and followed along. Soon enough I saw a clearing and the reason for its existence.

A burly man with almost enough body hair to make up for his lack of shirt was chopping down a tree. A much younger slimmer version of himself with a marked lack of hair was dragging logs over towards a big pit. After I looked around a bit and confirmed that they were alone I stepped out of the woodline.

“Hello the camp.”

The big guy froze in place before he lowered his axe. He turned to face me and took a few steps forward so that he was between me and the youngster I was guessing was his son. He still held the axe low across his body, but seemed cautious rather than threatening.

“Hello stranger. What brings you out here?”

“Actually, I got a little turned around.” I pointed in the general direction of North. “The city of Humert’s in that direction right? About how far are we?”

“I’ve got permission to make charcoal here. We haven’t strayed from the stake markers I got shown.”

I held up a placating hand. “Really not here for that. It was a legitimate question, how far from town are we?”

He frowned at me, then looked back in the direction I’d pointed. He shook his head and pointed himself, pretty much in the same direction but maybe a hair more to the right.

“Good half hour’s walk that way to get to the foregate. You don’t have a residents pass they charge you two coppers to let you in and just clap you the stocks if you don’t have the funds.”

I nodded in thanks. That was good information to have and I was a little bit pissed that Edwin hadn’t thought to mention it. Travel agents here in this world really left something to be desired. “Good luck then, Mr. Lumberjack. Keep an eye out, there are wolves in the wood.”

He snorted and muttered something about pansy city dwellers to his son, but I was already walking away and didn’t catch the details. I kept a careful watch on my backtrail though, until a few moments later the ring of chopping wood came through the air. He definitely wasn’t sneaking up on me then, and I settled into finishing my trip. It was closer to twenty minutes than thirty, and about halfway through the trees gae way to open grasslands. There were herds of sheep and some teenagers with dogs in the distance, but I steered clear and headed towards the walled city visible on the horizon. I came to a washed out poorly maintained dirt road, and paused as I looked towards the city. Surely this couldn’t be the Kingsway, but it pointed in the right direction and I started following it. I kept looking around and realized the truth when I got closer. They really did enforce the no tolls on the Kingsway thing. The city of Humert had built back from the roadway a few hundred yards, and built a big loop that came out of the highway and actually led into the town through the gatehouse. You could travel the Kingsway for free, but actually entering or exiting the town to do so could be taxed.

I had two coppers on me so the toll wasn’t that big a deal. I would gladly sacrifice my entire coin purse to finish this stupid task. A line had formed at the gate though, and I found myself leaning on the wall as uniformed men shook down each of the travelers. They finally finished inspecting an apparently suspicious handcart of turnips and got to me. I had the two coins in my hand and stepped forward. A sweaty looking man with long curly hair pushing out past the rim of his helmet held out a long spear blocking my path and just looked at me when I held out my hand.

“What’s your business here in Humert?”

I hadn’t heard them asking anyone else and didn’t realize there would be questions. I hadn’t had time to come up with a reasonable lie and I reflexively answered the same way I would have in my own world.

“My business is just that, my business. Here’s the gate tax so get out of the way.”

The man’s eyes narrowed at my tone, and the second gate guard straightened up and moved a little closer. I winced internally, already regretting the confrontational tone.

“Listen here, missy. Just who the hell do you think you are?”

I took a deep breath and looked at the position of his partisan. It was still outstretched over the rim of stone that marked the official edge of the city of Humert. I was so close, and a single stupid mistake had to complicate things. Then I thought of how actually close I was, and a stupid smile sprouted on my face.

‘Who am I? I’m the Amazing Julia, and for my next trick, watch me disappear.”

I stepped forward and shoved against the partisan. My first foot touched the flagstone walk, and I felt a brief flutter of nervousness as the second guardsman began to draw his sword. Then my trailing foot crossed the threshold and the world fell away in a flash of light.