Ninean felt she was ready to start a new life two days later. All her affairs were in order if her plan worked. And if not, she would simply let the lawyer know she’d changed her mind at the last minute, or fallen ill. She packed some food, mainly fruit, dried meat, and nuts in case she didn’t recognize anything as being edible, as well as some of her mother’s willow bark tea blend in case she got hurt. She didn’t want to have to try and explain the concept of painkilling tablets. She also had a couple of changes of clothes that didn’t look too modern, as well as her journal, some pencils, a small knife she had made (one of her firsts), and a wool blanket. She would make the journey between realms holding the dagger. She hoped.

She decided to leave from just inside the cottage’s front door. She didn’t want to run the risk of being spotted outside by someone walking the nearby trails. She made sure to read her mother’s letter again to ensure she hadn’t forgotten any of the details regarding her return. Then she put it in her pack. She didn’t want the risk of leaving it around for someone to find if someone came into the cottage. Finally, she felt certain everything was ready. She was ready.

Ninean put the pack on her back and made sure the dagger’s sheath was on her belt.

The night before, she had considered if she would draw the dagger across her palm or thumb tip, and had ultimately decided against it. There was no telling what kind of diseases or germs lurked in Uclandia, and there was no sense in inviting infection. She would start with a simple prick of her thumb, just enough to make herself bleed, since the blood and desire to return would be enough. At least according to Cyrene’s letter.

Ninean jabbed her left thumb quickly with the tip of the dagger and watched as blood blossomed to the surface. Then she quickly squeezed her eyes shut and said with certainty, “I want to return to Uclandia. I want to return to Uclandia…”

She felt a tugging in her navel, and the floor under her feet lurched. She kept her eyes shut as she tried to accommodate her stance to her loss of equilibrium, but gravity was too strong. She hit the floor, elbow first.

Except she did not hit the hard floor, she hit something softer.

She opened her eyes to find that she was lying in a small clearing, cushioned by moss and grass beneath her. Nearby was a thick patch of bushes. She could smell woodsmoke but heard no sounds of any other humans nearby. No birds either. The sky above her was an odd shade of green-grey and the clouds were moving quickly across the strange-colored tableau. Ninean sat up slowly, still a little off balance. She slid the dagger into its sheath. She was still sitting there, trying to get her stomach to settle when a woman’s voice called out from behind her.

“You will stand slowly and face me, Stranger.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Ninean did as she was told, holding her hands away from her body. When she turned, she found herself not far from a woman with a bow in her hands. A bow with an arrow in position to shoot Ninean. At this distance, she would not miss.

“I’ve come to find a woman named Ariadne,” Ninean said as she tried to keep her voice steady.

“Have you now? And what would you want that old witch for?”

“I need to see her on a personal matter.”

“Perhaps I will take your insolence personally and run you through with this arrow,” the woman said as she pulled on the bowstring.

“Wait!” Ninean held her hands out, palms toward the other woman. “She is my Godmother!”

“What proof do you have?”

“I will share that only with her,” Ninean replied, hoping she’d not just signed her death warrant.

The woman’s gaze dropped to Ninean’s waist. “That is the dagger of a rich stranger, indeed. How did you come by it?”

“It was my mother's. I’ve inherited it.”

“What is your full given name, Stranger?”

“Ninean Ariadne.”

“An odd name.”

“I carry the names of one of my ancestors and my godmother,” Ninean said, standing straighter now.

The other woman lowered the bow and released the tension on the bowstring. “What is your purpose here?”

“I told you, I’m looking for my godmother.”

“Then you had better come inside. Follow me.”

Ninean did as she’d been told, again. As she walked behind the other woman, who had obviously decided to spare her life, Ninean studied her. She wore a flecked brown cloak that brushed the grass as she walked. Homespun, Ninean decided. Her hood was pushed back, revealing longer than shoulder-length hair that was both dark and shot through with grey. Especially at her temples. Ninean could just see the bottoms of dark brown leather boots as the other woman strode forward. They were headed toward a small cottage with a thatched roof and fieldstone walls. They passed a small garden full of flowering plants, some of which Ninean was surprised to recognize. She spotted lamb’s quarters and comfrey, as well as mint. She would have liked to stop and see which of the others she might know, but she followed her guide instead, who was already opening the stout-looking wooden door to the cottage.

Ninean followed her in and shut the door behind her. When her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she could see the other woman taking off her cloak and hanging on a peg embedded into the stone wall.

“Come in and be comfortable,” she said as she moved toward a hearth at one end of the house. “You may sit,” she gestured toward a nearby bench.

“I’m sorry, you know who I am, but I still don’t know who you are,” Ninean replied.

“That is because it has been many years since you saw me last. I am Ariadne, your godmother. Welcome to my home.”

To Be Continued!