Teresa stood in the dark for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds. Not knowing which way to go, she took a step backward, and the glow of the ball returned, far diminished, but there. Encouraged, she began to retrace her steps, and with each step, it grew brighter and brighter. It’s leading me, she realized. At first she thought it was leading her back out of the forest, but after another 100 steps, guided only by the light of the ball, she realized that she was even deeper into the woods. She noticed that the ball grew dimmer when she veered off course. But what was the course? Where was she going? Without much choice in the manner, she continued to creep through the forest, guided by the ball, noting carefully when its light grew dim and redirecting her steps accordingly.

Suddenly, in the distance, she saw an earthy and familiar glow that was far different from the ethereal light emitted by her ball. No, this was a common campfire, and the ball seemed to be leading her straight to it. She could see the shadows cast by the flames, and then finally the back of a creature who stretched out his hands to its cheerful warmth.

“You found me, girl,” said Old Tom, without turning around. “Good job! And so quickly too! And you didn’t go bawling for me at the first sign of danger—not you! You figured it out. You’ve got a strong head and a strong heart. You’ll need them. Sit down and warm yourself by the fire.”

Teresa sat down opposite of Old Tom, and looked at him carefully.

“Was your picture always in my storybook?” she asked.

“Of course!” he laughed. “You just didn’t have eyes to see me. And how do you like the forest?”

“It’s okay,” she said.

“It’s okay?” he said. “Okay? Why, I spent a year’s worth of magic putting a protective spell over this patch of forest, just so you could walk safely to me. Tonight, my girl, this forest is safer than it will ever be for you again. There are worse things than beasts that roam these woods,” he said, and Teresa shivered.

“But I don’t mean to stay here,” she said.

“You didn’t mean to come here, in the first place,” said Old Tom. “And yet, here you are. And here you’ll stay. The castle is not your home anymore. Your dragon blood has risen up in you—and you have a different destiny to fulfill.”

Teresa opened her mouth to argue, but at that moment the most blood-chilling cry ripped through the night—something between a howl and a scream that made the hairs on her neck stand straight up. It seemed to go on for an eternity.

“What was that?” she whispered.

“A forest wraith,” Old Tom said.

“But you said the forest was under your protection tonight!”

“Did I?” Old Tom said, lazily. “I must have let one slip by. Or two.” He chuckled, as the howling began again. The creature sounded bloodthirsty, and Teresa remembered how her mother had refused to say that Tom was good.

“Will the fire keep them away?”

“They have no fear of fire,” Tom said. “It cannot harm them.”

And at his words, a ghastly figure approached them, staying about 10 feet away, perhaps because of Tom’s magic. It was at least 10 feet tall, pale as death, with large black torn holes where the eyes and mouth should be. It shrieked and moaned like the wind, and seemed to float along the forest floor. It’s thin arms shot straight in the air, with spindly fingers on each hand.

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“Throw your golden ball at it, my girl!” Old Tom shouted. “Throw the ball!”

“But it’s not a weapon!” Teresa said. “We need a weapon!”

“Do as I say!” Old Tom said, and his voice deepened, and his eyes grew red.

So Teresa threw the ball, as hard as she could, right in the direction of the wraith. When it came in contact with the creature, the wraith made one last agonized scream and disappeared!

“Good job!” Old Tom said. “Nice throw! Now catch it!”

He snapped his fingers, and the ball rushed out of the void towards Teresa. She caught it in her palm, one-handed. She’d never done that before.

“Teresa, the forest-wraith killer,” Old Tom said admirably. “Throw it as hard as you might, the ball will always return to you now. You are stronger than you were a moment before. Do you feel it?”

“A little,” she said. Something gold on the forest floor, where the wraith had disappeared, caught her eye.

“Is that a coin?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, the wraiths have a strange lust for gold,” Old Tom said. “Every time you kill one, you’ll find a few gold coins. It will come in handy for you, for while the ball will work on the wraiths, to be a true warrior you will need better weapons and armor one day.”

“A true warrior,” Teresa repeated. She already felt like one, a little, as small and weak as she was. She shivered.

“Take this,” Old Tom said. It was a leather jacket. “It will give you a little protection, as well as warmth.”

Teresa put it on gratefully. And as she did so, she felt the muscles in her back and upper arms flex ever so slightly. She was a little stronger, just from fighting that one wraith. How would she feel after fighting another? After fighting ten? How fast would she be able to run? She could run any time she wanted now. Accepting this fate meant that she could say goodbye forever to stagnating in the royal castle, under the thumb of a sister who hated her, with her life decisions made for her.

But she knew Old Tom had not brought her out here because he wanted her to have adventures. For some reason, she was needed.

“Why must I be a warrior?” she asked Old Tom. “What challenge am I being trained to face?”

Old Tom’s face grew serious. “I cannot tell you,” he said. “And it’s not your job to ask. Your job is to grow stronger, to fight the wraiths, to collect enough money to buy more weapons, more armor. You’ll find friends as well as foes in this forest, I assure you.”

They sat quietly by the fire for a few moments, and Teresa studied the flames. She thought of the castle, her father and mother, the life she was leaving behind. “I wish I had told my mother goodbye,” she said.

“Ah,” Old Tom said. “She knew it was goodbye the moment you said my name. Go to sleep now, my girl, you’ll need the rest. My protection spell will only last a few more hours. Rest, rest.”

So Teresa curled up in front of the fire and watched the flames until her eyes grew heavy. She must have slept, for when she opened her eyes again, the world was grey and chill, and the fire was burning embers.

And Old Tom was nowhere to be seen.

She stretched her arms and legs, grateful for the protection of the leather. Her ball, she saw, was in a leather pouch now, ready for her next throw. She stood and stretched again, wondering if she should collect firewood and restart the fire. Her stomach was growling. She saw that Old Tom had left her a satchel with a flask of water, a loaf of bread and a hunk of yellow cheese. She had a quick, cold breakfast, then decided to try to find some water so she could refill her flask. She was sure that fighting wraiths was going to be thirsty work.

After a few moments of walking, she stumbled across a rushing creek, where the water ran clear. She dipped her flask into it gratefully, then suddenly her gratitude turned to horror as she felt a strong masculine hand grab her shoulder with a death grip, and drag her back from the creek, the flask dripping water uselessly with its stopper flopped open. The hand pushed her down to the ground and she looked up, and up, and up at a huge man with a long drooping mustache, a powerful chest, and a rather large belly. Strapped to his back was an axe, its head sharpened to a wicked edge.

“What are you doing drinking from my creek?” he demanded in a booming voice, his walrus mustache shaking with rage.

Just then a chilling howl ripped through the forest—a sound Teresa already knew all too well. With the sound, the man’s attitude changed completely.

“Run!” the man said.

“I can take a forest wraith!” Teresa shouted.

Then another howl broke out. Then another.

“Maybe you can,” the man said. “But can you take five?”