Chapter 2

        Her father went over to the desk and pulled out a small scrap of leather. He handed the scrap to Dakota. "This is the map your mother gave me when we first met. It will lead you to her people."

        "Thank you, Papa. I guess I'll leave tomorrow morning. Today is for being with you." He smiled warmly at his oldest child.

        "What say you and I go for a ride, Kota?"

        "I would love it. Let's go, Papa." The two exited the study and headed for the stables.

The next morning, Kota stood nervously next to her horse. The reins were moist with perspiration in her hands. Her father stood on the steps, tears glistening in his eyes refusing to fall.

        "Papa," Dakota glanced briefly towards the road. "What can I expect from Mama's people?"

        "Don't worry about them. They are an open mountain people with many legends. They'll welcome you with open arms, I'm sure."

        "I hope so. I better get going then." Dakota clambered onto the back of the horse. "I'll miss you, Papa. Tell Nevada and Mother I'll miss them, too."

        "I will. We'll all miss you. Be careful, Dakota, and follow the map I gave you." Her father waved as she turned the horse toward the road.

        "Don't worry, I will. Bye, Papa." Dakota shouted the last words over her shoulder.

        Dakota had a rather uneventful day traveling the road. The sun was bright and the weather warm. Of course this was only the first leg of her journey. She looked at the map in her hand. The fields and plains would be easy enough to cross.

        Kota traced her path with her eyes. She paused briefly to contemplate the second leg of her journey. Just before she would enter the mountains, there was a forest that she had to traverse. A forest wasn't cause to worry, but the name sent a shiver up her spine. Mystic Forest.

        There were always rumors about the Mystic Forest. Nobody knew where it was located, but here in her hands was a map leading through the Mystic Forest. It was rumored to be the home of evil creatures. Dakota began thinking she should have convinced her father to let have an escort to the mountain. But no, he insisted she had to make the journey on her own.

        Sighing in frustration, she folded the map and tucked it into the waist of her britches. Clucking to her horse, Dakota nudged him into an easy trot. She had a lot of ground to cover to reach the tavern where she planned to retire tonight.

        Dakota dismounted wearily in front of the tavern. The sun had just passed beyond the horizon leaving the only available light the twin torches blazing near the entrance to the tavern. She walked her tired mount to the stable near the rear of the tavern. After she settled her steed, Dakota approached the entrance to the tavern

        As she approached the door, Kota heard loud drunken voices singing ribald songs. She loosened the knife that her father gave her last night. A single woman traveling alone never knew what to expect, especially at the taverns. Dakota cautiously opened the door, shielding her eyes from the blazing light that poured out. A large earthenware mug smashed against the wall near Kota's head. She watched the ale drip down the wall from the corner of her eye before fully entering the tavern.

        Kota quickly searched for a table. In one corner, men sat conversing in low tones. Near the door, a scuffle broke out. That was where the mug came from. At the back of the room was a single table illuminated by a stub of candle melted to it. Dakota slipped past the fighting and talking men to the empty table.

        She slid onto the chair and signaled the barkeep over. He was a large burly man wearing coarse cloth with what appeared to grease stains. He walked over with heavy footfalls, favoring one leg. The barkeep glowered down at her, sizing her up with his beady eyes. Dakota shivered unnoticed under his glare.

        "What'll it be, girl?"

        "A meal and a room. Provisions in the morning if possible."

        "The meal and room are a copper a piece."

        "And provisions?"

        The barkeep appraised her clothes. "Three coppers for provisions." Dakota slipped out a silver coin and slid it across the table to the barkeep. He picked up the coin and put it in pocket on his dirty apron. He nodded to a serving girl and handed a key to Kota. "Room at top of stairs, on the right." The large man lumbered back to the bar as the serving girl brought Dakota a plate of stewed meat and vegetables and a mug of ale.

        Kota pulled out her eating knife and speared a chunk of meat on the end. She inspected the meat closely before bringing the morsel to her mouth. She daintily nibbled the meat. Dakota's eyes widened at the taste before heartily digging into the meal. The cook had to be content to remain out here at this small tavern. Her father's cook wasn't as good as this one.

        Dakota sat back in her chair savoring the last of her meal while sipping at the ale. The first scuffle had ended awhile ago and the men that were talking earlier had dispersed. Another scuffle looked like it was about to breakout across the room.

        The serving girl approached her table. She refilled Kota's mug and cleared way the dinner plate. The candle on the table started to sputter then went out. Dakota sat in the growing darkness of the common room.

        A figure stumbled over to her table and knocked into it. The table skidded into Kota, knocking her ale to the floor. A rough hand grabbed at her breast forcing her to stumble back from him.

        "Com' on, prutty thin'. How 'bou' yu 'n' I 'ave som' fun." Dakota pushed at his shoulders, trying to put some space between them.

        "I'd rather not, thank you."

        He grabbed her roughly drawing her closer. "I pr'mis' yu'll like it." Dakota did the only thing she could think of. She screamed at the top of her lungs. Most of the men ignored the scream, including the barkeep.

        One man sitting at a nearby table stood and closed the distance between them. He spoke quietly to the drunken man.

        "Unhand her if you wish to live another day." His voice combined with the knife suddenly being held at his neck made the drunk slowly if reluctantly release Kota from his grasp. She shakily fell back into her chair arms wrapped about her.

        "Thank you." Her voice whispered softly.

        "Do you have a room here?" She nodded hesitantly and pointed towards the stairs. "I suggest you go there and lock the door. I'll keep them from following for now." Kota slowly gathered her wits enough to grab her packs to rush up the stairs. The door slammed closed behind her and she threw the lock with a resounding click.

        He watched her flee to her room. The man that rescued her walked up the stairs and went to a room further from the stairs and walked in closing the door behind him. This young woman obviously couldn't protect herself yet. He was going to make sure she survived. She would need the help if what he felt was true. There was something about her that touched him like he hadn't been in years. Maybe she was the one his people were waiting for. He would have to wait for morning before getting more answers about this young woman.