Black Moon Draw

The strange, light metal is worn around the edges and the leather necklace frayed in two places. Either it's an heirloom, which makes little sense since it was given to a stranger, or it's a cheap souvenir. I'm not sure why I have it or what I'm supposed to do with it - or why for a split second, I thought it was glowing purple.

"Come," the teen urges me.

Tucking the medallion back into my dress, I push my feet into the soft leather boots and stand. It'll take some work to keep from tripping over my feet. I drop the wooden coins into a deep pocket of the dark purple cloak and pull it off its post to swing around me. It falls to my ankles and has three buttons down the front that run from my neck to just below my breasts.

"Ohhhhh!" The inside is lined with thick, soft fur I want to melt into. I run my fingers through it, fascinated by the length of the silky fur. I'm not sure I've felt anything this luxurious.

"You are a battle-witch." The young man is staring at me, eyes wide. "The one foretold an era ago."

"I'm not sure about that," I reply. "I'm a lost traveler who thought she was getting a ride somewhere safe. I think we need to -"

Something smashes into the wagon and it rocks to one side before slamming back onto all four wheels. I catch myself against the wall, startled, and glance over my shoulder at the bird and boy.

Both have been flung to the floor. The kid is getting up while the bird's feet are kicking in the air.

"Aw, you poor thing." I stoop to pick it up. My pockets are bigger than the bag I found it in, so I carefully place the bird into one of them and button my newfound cloak. "Now let's get out of here."

"I will never forget this favor, m'lady." The shaky teen offers a stiff bow.

"Save it, kid," I advise. "We've got to escape first."

The bird starts chirping again, its grumpy complaints reminding me of how my cats often grumbled at me when I pushed them off the couch so I could sit, too. I miss them already, along with my computer and the cave my apartment has become.

Instead I'm . . . here. Or stuck in a dream about here. I can't think about it without my head pounding harder. The food helped, but my headache remains.

The shouts are coming from the side of the wagon where the Red Knight exited. I make my way to the door on the opposite side and press my ear to it. I don't hear anything and open the door cautiously, the teenager at my back.