First Friend

For three days Atalanta rode without looking back. Only when her supplies began to run low did she follow the trail to a small town in a valley. For most small towns, the sight of a giant black stallion would be enough to turn heads. But no one noticed Atalanta’s horse; every eye in the street was on the lonely warrior.

A few of the curious followed her until she disappeared into a tavern.

Even with her face uncovered, a man felt compelled to ask, “Are you a woman?”

She answered without hesitation. “I am a knight. I live by the Code.”

There was a finality in her response that the man chose not to test. He turned and walked away.

She sat down and ordered a meal. She tried not to stare at any place too long as she waited—the other patrons did not extend Atalanta the same courtesy.

As she waited, a red-haired woman made her way across the tavern floor. She looked to be about thirty years old and wore brown trousers. She approached Atalanta’s table with a friendly smile.

“Mind if I sit?”

There were other open seats at the tavern, but Atalanta could understand why the woman might not choose them.

Atalanta nodded.

“Thank you.” The woman sat and glanced toward the kitchen. “They serve a good trigon steak here—and a lot of it!” She laughed loudly.

The sound caught Atalanta off guard. She slumped in her chair slightly.

“You an adventurer?” the woman asked.

Atalanta straightened. “Knight.”

“Impressive. Well, I don’t have the skills of a knight—but I have my talents.” The woman leaned back as the tavernmaid delivered their meals. She then leaned toward Atalanta, her voice just above a whisper. “You traveling alone?”

Atalanta paused and whispered, “Yes.”

“So am I.” The woman took a knife and fork to her steak. “The name is Sarah.”

“Atalanta.” She quietly mirrored the older woman’s actions.

“I am not a big girl like you—I could use a traveling partner. Safer that way.”

Atalanta didn’t answer, but she stopped eating.

“You up for it—partners?”

Atalanta looked at the woman for a moment. There was something about her smile that felt safe. When she realized that she had stared too long, her cheeks pinkened and her eyes shifted back to her dinner. She softly muttered her answer. “Yes.”

The woman’s expression brightened. “Partners!” she exclaimed and then called out to the tavernmaid. “Two pinemeads!”

“I don’t—”

“No worries, Atalanta. My treat.”

As soon as the girl returned with the pinemead, the woman took a big swig—and half the mug was gone in an instant.

Atalanta took a small sip.

The woman chuckled. “Come on, big girl! You can do better than that—drink up!”

Atalanta winced as she forced herself to take a larger drink. When the mug returned to the table, half the mead was gone.

“I’ve never had pinemead before,” Atalanta admitted. “But it’s… interesting.”

“A big girl like you? You must have—” Sarah hesitated. “How old are you anyway?”

“Fifteen.”

Sarah’s smile paused. Only for a moment.

Then it returned. “I suppose fifteen is old enough.”

Atalanta took another bite from the plate, then looked up and smiled. It was a real smile that reached all the way to her eyes. It was easy to see her as fifteen with that smile.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

For the first time since they met, Sarah was not meeting Atalanta’s eyes. Atalanta shifted in her chair so she could once again catch her gaze.

“I do. I feel like I’ve been alone forever. Well, except for my mother. She—”

Atalanta put her fork down. The room began to turn, and her vision blurred, as though she was underwater.

“Sarah—”

And the world went black.