Tara had spent dinner pleading with her parents to take her to the grand opening of the book store, making sure to inform them that she still had plenty of birthday money, so she wouldn’t need any from their either.

Her parents had relented, but only after Tara promised that she’d keep the garage clean while her brother was on vacation, and, more importantly, wouldn’t spend all her time inside, doing god knows what, now that Lucy was gone. Tara had agreed readily and to prove her commitment to her promise, she had decided to go out that evening, riding her bicycle around the fields.

Not for the first time, Tara regretted the lack of hills in the area. Not that she was interested in going fast on her bike, but she had spent the last three weeks scouting to find a location for a bandit camp, especially something out of the way where she could build a few cabins for her own immersion.

She hadn’t managed to find one yet, and as such the bandit gang continued to plague the areas around Brookmoor castle, though A’rat the Barbarian had more pressing adventures.

Sitting on her bike with her feet on the floor and a small notebook in front of her, she wrote.

‘A’rat charged the scary Minotaur.’

She stared at the word ‘scary’ for a full minute, before finally deciding to cross it out and scribble ‘terrifying’ above it, then looked back at the inspiration for the terrifying Minotaur.

The cow, known to its owner as Bessie, blankly stared at Tara, chewed the mouthful of grass a few times, then turned away to saunter off to whatever bovine business bothered Bessie.

‘With the dread Minotaur defeated, A’rat continued on her way to…’ Tara wrote, then scribbled between parentheses ‘Decide later’

She put the notebook in her backpack, put her feet back on the pedals and went on her merry way, looking for the next part of her story, finding it in the shape of a donkey.

She parked her bike against the fence, that desperately needed a fresh paint job, then clacked her tongue in an attempt to call the donkey over to he.

“Bucky,” she tried, “Bucephelus, Bucky! Come here, boy!”

The donkey responded to the third call, but did not seem inclined to obey. It flicked its ears, brayed and continued nipping at a patch of weeds.

Tara sighed. Technically, the donkey belonged to her as her father had bought it for her under the impression it was a horse. Even though Tara would have preferred a horse, she didn’t mind the willful animal as much as she thought she would. Unfortunately for her, the donkey had taking a liking to her eldest brother, sawyer, showing very little interest in Tara, even when she had something for him to snack on.

She sighed, dropped down against the fence and produced her notebook again.

‘A’rat had failed once more to tame the noble stallion,’ she wrote, then quietly sank into contemplating as to why A’rat, who, according to Tara, should be victorious in everything she did, would fail at taming the mighty stallion. She tugged at the grass as she couldn’t find a good reason, then stood up again, trying to whistle the donkey towards her.

The animal still ignored her. Tara sighed, then looked up at the sky. In the distance she saw a storm coming in. Immediately she pulled out the notebook again, making a quick note. The reason A’rat couldn’t break the horse was the evil presence of the wizard Swile, one of A’rat’s mortal enemies. The dark clouds rolling in were clearly proof of that, She put her notebook away, got on her bike and pedaled back towards her home, not wanting to be caught in the rain.

The storm had come faster than Tara had expected and she found herself racing through the pouring rain. She was glad to see the garage door open and didn’t bother to brake heading up the driveway, simply skidding her bike into the garage, barely keeping her balance as she dismounted. She watched the pink bike drop the floor and looked outside at the rain she’d just left behind her.

A bolt of thunder colored the evening sky. Tara was already considering how to add this to A’rat’s story when she realized she had seen something in the dark.

Another lightning bolt and she was sure she saw movement at the house across the street. Her first thought was ghosts and, with the excitement of seeing the supernatural she rushed to grab a flashlight that she swept across the old Summers place. There wasn’t a ghost, just somebody huddled against the door under the porch. It was a girl, about Tara’s age. Even with just the flashlight on it, Tara could see she had striking red hair and that the girl looked vaguely familiar.

The girl looked up when the beam of light hit her face, cocking her head at the intrusion.

Tara put up a hand in greeting

The girl returned the gesture.

“You want to come in?” Tara called over, unsure if the redhead could hear her. The girl didn’t need a second invite. She got up, sprinted through the rain, and was next to Tara a moment later.

Tara gave her a pitying look. The girl had used her leather jacket to keep the worst of the rain off her head, but she was still soaked. She grinned at Tara as she let the jacket fall back to her shoulders.

“I think we’ve met,” she said, “But I’m Chrissy.”