Isa walked out of Lund’s into the late morning sun with a heavy bag slung across her chest and a few extra possessions for her journey. If she was being honest with herself, she felt like a badass, even with a heavy book weighing her down. Joth had muttered something as he slid the book into the bag. Maybe it was a spell, maybe a prayer. Once he’d finished speaking, he handed her the bag, a little pouch that clinked with coins, and a pair of long thin knives.

“I dunno,” he said, “with your dexterity, maybe a dual wielder is the way to go.”

She stared at the knives. “But what do I-- how do I….”

Lund interrupted her. “The key is to forget you are holding them.” He pulled one knife from its sheath. “It becomes your hand. You don’t worry about your fingers, right? They just do what you want them to.”

“Yes, but my fingers have never wanted to stab someone.”

“Really?” Lund’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re an orphan?”

“No, I’m -- wait, what?”

“No one can enrage you like family.” Lund frowned. “So if you’ve never wanted to stab someone, it’s got to be because you don’t have any family, and that’s sad.” He held up his finger. “I have something for you. Wait here.”

A few minutes later he returned with something wrapped in a white cloth. “I had these as a child, so they should fit. For you, little sister.” He laid the bundle on the bar and pulled back the cloth to reveal two sleeves of tooled brown leather. Loose laces ran from top to bottom.

Isa reached out with one finger and traced an etched vine that snaked up one side. “They are beautiful, but I don’t know what to do with them.”

“You wear them with pride.” Lund slid first one sleeve and then the other over her forearms. “You fight with your heart,” he said as he pulled the laces tight. “And you come back with a story to tell. That is what an adventurer does.”

Joth had told her to head right down the road for about two hours and then look for a rock shaped like a teddy bear. When she saw it, she could take the next right-hand path that she saw. That path, which would run for about an hour, would lead her right to his friend’s house.

“Give the book, bag and all, to Fedru. He’ll know it’s from me, and if he has anything to send back, he’ll use the same bag.”

When Isa had asked if there was anything else - anything at all - that he wanted to make sure she knew, Joth said, “The spiders are kind of big here.”

Later she would regret not asking a few follow up questions, but for now Isa was rather glad to be free of Lund’s and the wizard’s presence. She need time to process all that had happened since she’d walked into the bar last night. A little peace and quiet would do wonders for her. There was the long term problem of getting home, but there was the more immediate question of trusting this stranger. Did she have a choice though? She’d only met two people-- not true. She knew three people in this strange land, the wizard, the barkeep, and the merchant. She’d said her name was Anne, and she’d held up a vial that she said was a healing potion. Isa didn’t expect to use those knives at her hips, but it wouldn’t hurt to have something to help her should she be on the losing end of a fight.

But where would this Anne be? She’d had a wheelbarrow piled high with goods, which meant she could be anywhere, even another town - if there was such a thing. Isa felt the coin pouch that Joth had given her. Was there enough for a potion? She hadn’t peeked at the contents in front of him - that had seemed rude. She laid her hand on the coin pouch now. Better to count it before she met up with the--

“Well now! Look at you. Was I wrong then? You look a proper fighter.”

Somehow the merchant woman stood in front of Isa. “I was just thinking about you,” said Isa. “And here you are.”

“Funny, that.” Anne said and crossed her arms. “What were you thinking?”

“That I might want to buy that potion after all.”

Anne flashed a bright toothy smile. “That will do it! Someone’s thinking about spending coin with me, I’ll know it soon enough. Simple as that.”

“So you’re, I mean you have, or you do magic? Is that the way to say it?”

“You said three different things, girl. But the answer is no, I’m no mage. Any magic I have is just the magic of the market. A good merchant has to know her goods and her customers. Now,” she rubbed her hands together, “you’re wanting a healing potion. Let’s see.”

With that Anne leaned over the wheelbarrow and began shifting items around. Isa stepped closer to watch. There seemed to be no order to the jumble of goods in the wheelbarrow. Occasionally Isa saw a glint of bright metal. “Do you have gold in there?” she blurted out.

Anne ceased movement and glanced over her shoulder at Isa. “Why are you crowding me? I had a curse laid on this barrow, and woe be to anyone who lays a hand on it. Woe be upon them.”

Isa took a step back. “I was just curious,” she said meekly.

“That, unfortunately, is not something that fades with age. Mark my words, girl. If you’re curious now, it will be ten times worse when you’re a gray hair like me.”

“You hair’s not really gray,” Isa said as she studied it. “Much more black than gray.”

“I’m older than you think! Now, about your request…. Here’s the potion - or at least a potion.” Anne held the vial up so that light shone through the red liquid.

“I want the healing potion you showed me earlier.”

“You’re not my only customer, you know. You want healing, here it is. Now hand over the coin.”

Isa handed the woman the coin pouch and reached for the vial, but Anne pulled it to her chest. “Not so fast. I gotta count this.” She slipped the vial into a pocket of her jacket and opened the cinched pouch. With one finger she mixed the coins, seeming to assess them. With a raised eyebrow she returned the pouch to Isa. “I guess I pegged you wrong.” With that Anne picked up her wheelbarrow and started to leave.

“Wait! What do you mean? Where are you going? What about my potion?”

“It’s my potion until such time as someone hands over 25 gold to me.”

Isa shook the bag. “There’s not enough in here? It’s so heavy. I didn’t think to ask….”

Anne let out a laugh that was more than half cackle. “You got about 40 copper pieces in that pouch of yours.”

“And copper is not worth as much as gold. Or silver.”

“Not sure what you agreed to do for the money, but I hope it wasn’t much.” The woman resumed pushing her wheelbarrow. She was fast and strong for someone so thin. She’d already gone 100 feet before Isa sprang after her.

“Wait! So how do I make money? I need that healing potion; I know I do.”

Anne turned at Isa’s words. “You are a strange one. What did you say your name was?”

“I’m Isabel Chamberlin. You can call me Isa.”

“And you can call me Anne. What we have here, Isa, is a quest economy and not just in Bywater. People with money, they need time, or strength, or safety. Sometimes all three. You’re young and well, you’re stronger than some, I’m sure. So let’s say an old man wants to visit his son in a neighboring town, but he’s worried about the journey. He hires someone like you - give or take - to accompany him. And you, you escort him where he needs to go.”

“Escort has a different meaning where I come from,” said Isa with a smirk.

“Is that right? Huh. The world’s a funny place.”

“Do you want to know what it means? In my land?”

Anne furrowed her brows for a moment. “Is it likely that I’ll travel there?”

Without thought Isa said, “No. I’d say it was beyond unlikely. Why?”

“Then I don’t really need to know, do I? So stop interrupting me when I’m trying to tell you something. I’m helping you out here, aren’t I? Get yourself a few quests, do ‘em, and then come see me.”

“I have one, a quest.” Isa patted the bag. “I have to deliver this.”

“So you’ll get the rest of your payment upon return? They do that sometimes, rich people. Always hedging their bets, making provisions and codicils. Why, there was this one time I--”

“He didn’t say,” said Isa.

“Who didn’t?”

“The wizard - Joth Wind - Windsomething. I think. Joth for sure.”

“Joth Windbreaker, if you ask me!” Anne twisted her lips into almost a smile. “You’re delivering for him? Anyone else, ask for half up front and the rest when you return. With Joth, get the whole thing up front.”

Isa crossed her arms. “Wow, you don’t like him.”

“Nope.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Nope. He might be a deadbeat, but he’s still a wizard.” With that the merchant lifted her wheelbarrow and hurried away.

Lund’s wasn’t far; she could go back and demand more money from Joth. Maybe she’d get it, or maybe he’d rip the bag off her shoulder and send her away. Then what would she do? She had no friends - not yet and why set out to make an enemy? You agreed to the job without asking enough questions, she told herself. Whose fault it that? “Can’t blame the wizard for trying to save a buck, right?” Isa muttered to herself.

As she walked down the path Isa thought about her situation. I’m a stranger in a strange land, but I can speak the language and be understood. They don’t eat weird food - or rather, not that I’ve seen yet. There’s a way to make money; there’s a way to be useful and get allies. This isn’t that different than say, finding yourself lost in Slovenia. At least here you can speak the language like a native.

For all that, it was a strange place, Varana. And as cleared land gave way to trees and brush, Isa began to feel the strangeness even more. Take the silence for instance. Even when she and Celeste had taken hikes in the Gorge, they were never that far from civilization. The silence of the forest was backed by the incessant hum of the interstate, or the trains, or the buzz of electricity. But here, here it was truly quiet. When Isa stopped walking for a few seconds the forest was completely still. And then as if by some unspoken decree, birds would begin to titter and small creatures would rustle the grass. That is, until Isa took another step, and then the forest fell quiet once more as if she were an ogre crashing through the brush bent on murder and destruction.

What sort of creatures live here? Joth had mentioned large spiders, but were there raccoons, deer, panthers? She touched the hilt of her left-hand dagger. What good is a dagger against a panther? By the time it got close enough to stab, it would have its jaws around your throat.

A shudder traveled down Isa’s spine, and the hair on her neck rose. Was she being watched? Of course not! She was alone in a forest, but then again, she was alone in a forest. And alone didn’t really mean alone, not ever. It meant friendless.

Isa touched the dagger on her left again. Why hadn’t she asked for a bow instead. She’d done archery in high school, had been pretty good at it, too. Of course, hitting a big, round, stationary circle was one thing. Hitting a living, moving, lunging, growling, murderous…. Isa slapped her hands on her thighs. “Just stop,” she said aloud. “Just stop it right now. You worried? Whadda you do?”

She didn’t have an answer. In school, she’d used study and test prep to keep nerves at bay. She always handwrote her class notes - which her friends thought was nuts. And then she’d type them up later, which helped her cement the material in her brain. But this wasn’t an anatomy pop quiz.

Actually, it was, kinda. If you get attacked by a-- the image of a snarling wild cat filled her mind. She could see its sharp teeth, its rough, pink tongue, its ears flat against its head. Fine, let’s say you get attacked by a panther. What do you do?

She knew that a cat’s heart was in the upper chest, but unless the cat leaped at her, she’d have no clear path to it. And she imagined that the ribs would get in the way. Better to jab at its throat, slash at its throat, or try to slam the dagger into its ear.

The thought made Isa double over and retch. I am not going to kill a cat, she told herself. But a small part of her said, Never say never.