“Fire!” 

The cannons shot flattens the long grass. The horses glance over unimpressed, they are used the the boom of artillery and the roar of spectators. Of course for safety we are firing blanks. But every thing is real, the uniforms, the guns, and the ammunition.

We are re-enactors, putting on a show for the anniversary of the battle of Antium. And with weather as oppressive as today the guests stay in the shade of the tall trees behind us. 

When we break for questions, the crowd melts, going for the cooler attractions. Because of the weather and the late time, our troop calls it a day and begins to pack up. 

I’ll stay though, it is too hot to have my horses (Eli and Murray) pull the caisson and gun onto the trailer. So I stay and answer questions. 

Sweat rolls down my brow, as the last of the tourists begin to leave. I frown, what I had assumed was the family of a small girl had left. I try to get the attention of the women when the girl approached me.

In barely a whisper she says “Excuse me... Why do you do this?”  

I turn, “I am sorry but do you know where your parents are? I can help you find them.” I crouch to be level with her.

A cloud passes over the sun darkening the day as a powerful wind pushes me down. The same whisper pierces the gale “I am sorry... why do you do this?” She points to the gun. 

Pushing myself up I chuckle. “I do this to educate myself people about the great history of this nation. Teaching children like yourself...”

“I AM NOT A CHILD.” She interrupts, “I am old, really old, older than you could possibly imagine.” 

I shiver as the rising wind pierces my heavy uniform. 

“I asked why do YOU come here? Are you paid? Are you commanded?” 

I feel the cold sink into my bones as I answer, “N no, nether. I reenact for fun. My great great grandfather fought in the Civil war as an infantry man. And to walk in his steps is a great honor.”

Ch 00

The wind slows and she looks me in the eyes. “Will you help me?” 

“Of course, I would love to do anything I could.” I stand up and bend over to pick up my cap.

“Thank you” 

When I look up the girl is gone. The leaves that were quivering the grass that was waving became still. The wind was now still, but looking up the clouds were building on the horizon. A storm was brewing, although that was the least of my present worries. 

I no longer recognized where I was. The town, the road, the field was all gone. And in their place was a forest where trees rose straight from the ground and only branching out 15 feet above the forest floor. It was dark with little light filtering through the dense canopy, the ground was covered with ferns lichen and a spattering of bizarre mushrooms. There was a circle where the canopy had been cleared above my head, the sides were unnaturally sharp as if cut with a great big hole punch.

I was in trouble.

With a storm coming in I would have to find shelter, and on all sides was an unfamiliar forest. With me was my caisson (with my officers saber and my great great grandfather’s Henry rifle), the cannon, and two horses. 

Because of the storm I hurry about getting everything ready. First the horses are drawn into the harnesses and attached to the caisson where the cannon is towed behind. This makes what basically amounts to a bourse drawn four wheeled wagon. 

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Taking the reins I lead the way on foot.

Not long after starting to walk the wind picks up and shakes the branches. The forest becomes darker as the wall of clouds obscures the sun. Then the rain falls.

Rain drops the size of quarters fall piercing through the dense canopy. The ground quickly becomes mud deeper than my ankles. And too deep for the carriage. A leaf torn from it’s branch becomes plastered to my right cheek. Everything is soaked as the rain gets beneath the old poncho I wore. 

In a futile effort to escape from the rain I sit under the caisson until the storm passes.

That night, after the rain stopped, was cold. 

In desperation I sprinkle a charge of gunpowder from the caisson over a pile of broken branches. Even the gunpowder refused to ignite as i labored with flint and steel through the night.

When the morning came, the rising sun greeted our three weary travelers. After I hitched the horses to the carriage progress was painfully slow. The horses exhausted from the rain and cold were barley a match for the heavy load and stubborn mud. 

The cart caught on each and every rock and snare, the laborious process of rough branches to lift the wheel over an exposed root I would have to lay down branches to make a ramp then go to the back and help push. By noon we reached a clearing where a large creek swollen well beyond it’s size had cleared it’s own path through the forest.

I released the horses to graze, and munched on some of the less exotic plant life. For you curious folks it tastes like a mix between licorice and dandelion milk. As I sit I feel the fatigue weigh down on my eyes with one last look to see if the horses were fine I fell asleep. 

When I woke up it was dark. The creek had retired to its original bed. The full moon’s blue glow illuminated the stream.  I knew I needed a bath with all the mud on me and my clothes.

Not wanting to be naked more than necessary I only take my shoes and socks off before I lower myself into the stream. The water is cold and quickly becomes cloudy as the layers of mud are carried off. 

As the water becomes clear I stand up and start drying myself off with the damp blanket from the caisson. “Wet towels are no fun.” I say to myself as I unbutton my shirt. And pause, blink, “when did I get pecs?”

I poke them, and instead of the firmness of toned muscle it is soft enough to feel the ribs beneath. I slide my hand down into my pants and I shudder as I realized I am no longer a man. Not that anyone would be able to tell when I was wearing anything.

The night appears darker than before. I shudder as the gravity of the situation weighs down on my heart. I am a stranger not only to this world but also myself.

I shudder as the night air steels the the warmth from my body. "What is going on?" I cling to the blanket  as the once ample moonlight now only cast shadows. The stubborn courage that had carried me this far melts as the vast strangeness of the situation became tangible. "Where am I? What has happened to me?"

The Forest had no answer for me. .

That was a very long night. 

The dawn broke and illuminated a huddled blanket, a pair of red eyes wearily greeted the new day. Like a newborn faun she walked on unsteady legs to where she left her uniform to dry. Taking the saber and Henry Rifle from the caisson she harness the horses and heads of down the dry stream bed. And although the sun bears down on her back as it climbs higher into the sky she still shivers.

Else where...

Year, 923 Fourteenth day of the Fourth Moon,

      Dear Master Magician Mathias,

     I am writing in hopes of good tidings, every day I look forward to returning under your tutelage as a student once more. That being said yesterday the twelfth of this month a great disturbance of ambient mana had been felt by many of my coworkers at Saint Ceilio Fort, including Reverend Naliello, bless her heart, nearly fainted during morning service. It is with my humble experience that some great and powerful magic had been cast in the Black Forest nearby, I however have no way of locating where. 

    With this in mind I ask you to send a diviner to our humble outpost in hopes of learning discovering the nature of this incantation.

With High Regard

Novice Audovacar Xanti

"It is as you have said, witch." spat a tall man in a long rough green cloak. "Those church dogs do not know that we are here."

 Behind him was a hunched figure in a similar cloak who carried a brass lantern. "Your concession warms this old heart of mine. Even with no magic I would know if we were followed. Just pray that letter is not missed." she points a boney finger at the parchment the man's hand.

"This? You worry to much. The author is merely an apprentice sorcerer, hardly enough for those decadent heathens to even raise an eyebrow." amused he rises and turns to the rest of the small group, "We know what we are doing, take only those I tell you to, no sense in being slowed down by low value goods. Follow me and each of us will be rich as kings when we return!" the man crushes Xanti's letter underneath his foot.