Blake 

Blake would always remember the first time he saw a knight. 

It had been about ten years ago, when he was still a small child. It was raining that day, and a cold wind was blowing down from the mountain. The weather was too bad to do any work outside on the farm, so Blake’s family stayed indoors grinding the barley they grew into flour. He still remembered the small cottage, with its thatched roof made of old barley stalks and the fireplace of big chunky stones. Blake had been sitting next to that same fireplace, helping his mother put the flour into bags, when he felt the ground begin to shake. 

His father stopped turning the small grindstone and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “That sounds like horses.” 

"Who is it?" said Blake's mother, standing up. Her eyes were wide with worry. "What do you think they want?" 

Blake's parents told him and his brothers to keep quiet, then rushed outside to look. The sound of hoof beats came closer and closer, then grew quieter as the horses came to a stop outside the house. Soon after, voices drifted through the doorway. 

Blake's heart beat as fast as a mouse's in his chest. Could it be robbers, or tax collectors? Or maybe it was just a traveler from another village with stories to tell? He was scared, but he couldn't help feeling a little excited as well. Finally, he couldn't contain his curiosity. He got up and tip-toed towards the door. 

"Don't!" whispered one of Blake's brothers, but he shushed him and put his face to the gap in the doorway. When he saw who it was, he put a hand over his mouth to hold in a gasp. 

Two beautiful horses stood outside, one white as fresh snow and one as gray as winter clouds. On their backs sat a young man in shining silver armor and a boy carrying a flag on a long pole. The boy looked only a year or two older than Blake. Both the riders and their horses were dressed in colorful red and gold fabric. 

"It's a knight and his squire!" whispered Blake. His brothers squealed with excitement and ran up to the doorway to take a peek. 

"No, we haven't seen any outlaws around here," Blake's father was saying. "But we wish you good luck finding them.” 

“Thank you,” said the knight. “Keep your barn locked, just in case. Don't worry, we'll catch them.” 

Suddenly, the knight looked down and met Blake’s eyes staring through the door. He had blond hair that went down to his chin and looked almost like gold in the sun. The knight smiled wide, which made a nasty scar across his cheek crinkle. Then he and his squire kicked their horse into a gallop, and they rode away. 

Blake watched the two riders in their bright clothes, with their swords strapped to their belts and their flag flapping in the wind, until they were as small as fleas on the horizon. They had looked so fierce with their armor and their horses, and their bright clothes stood out on the gray farm like jewels. 

Blake's parents came inside and told the brothers to get back to work. But for the rest of the day, Blake couldn't stop himself from dreaming about the knight and his squire. He imagined them catching the outlaws, cornering them in a cave or under a waterfall. He imagined the great sword battle that would come after. He imagined the cheering of the people in town as the riders came back in through the gate with their prisoners. 

It was that day that he decided he wanted to become a knight.

Blake 

Now, ten years later, Blake thought grumpily that if he had known being a knight was going to be so wet, maybe he would have stayed a farmer after all. 

Everything was muddy. From his hair to his worn out boots, every part of him was covered in the thick black stuff. He was sure there was even some in his underwear. His horse, Ranger, whinnied sadly beside him. 

"I know, Ranger," Blake said. "I'll clean you up as soon as we get to town, I promise. Just as soon as I figure out where town is." 

Blake pulled out a map from inside his shirt and unfolded it. The rain had smudged it so he could hardly read it. The map said to go west once he reached the river, but Blake couldn't see any river. All he could see for miles and miles was more forest. 

Maybe I should go back to Sir Gregory, he thought, but he knew he couldn't. He had to make it to Silverfell. 

Suddenly, from behind him, Blake heard a twig snap. He jumped and turned around quickly, pulling his sword out from his belt. 

"Hello?" he called out. 

No one called back. Maybe it was only a rabbit? 

Then, Blake heard a sound coming from behind a large tree. There was a yell, and then a splash of mud like someone had slipped and fallen over. 

"Who are you?" Blake said. 

The person behind the tree stood up clumsily, and Blake saw that it was a girl leaning on a large stick. She had brown skin and curly black hair that was tangled with twigs and leaves. She was about the same age as Blake sixteen or seventeen - and just as muddy, too. 

"Who are you?" she asked. "And what are you doing in my woods?" 

"Your woods? Blake said, surprised. He looked down at his map. "I must be more lost than I thought...." 

He heard the girl sigh, and Blake realized she was still waiting for him to introduce himself. He stood up straight and puffed out his chest. "My name is Blake Brownstone," he said, "And I am a squire on my way to the town of Silverfell!" 

The girl squinted at him like she didn't quite believe him. "Aren't you too old to be a squire? And don't squires usually have masters?" 

"Well...I started my training late," Blake said, disappointed by her reaction. He was hoping she would be at least a little impressed by Ranger and his sword. "And I did have a master. But old Sir Gregory is too old and sick these days, so I have to find another knight to train me." 

The girl squinted at him a bit more, then shrugged her shoulders. "Alright. I believe you." 

"I'm sorry for walking into your forest," Blake continued. "I promise I'll leave as soon as I can. I just need to find the path to town again." 

"I can give you directions if you let me ride on your horse," the girl said. "I'm going to Silverfell as well, actually. The ground is too wet for me to walk like this, so I keep slipping, like I did behind that tree." 

Blake thought for a moment. The girl was a stranger, so it could be dangerous letting her ride with him. If she had a weapon, she could rob him or injure him. Blake was a good fighter though, so he knew how to defend himself. And anyway, he did accidentally wander onto her land. He owed her a favor. 

"Ok," Blake said finally, putting his sword away. "You can come with me." 

The girl walked toward him, bringing the long stick with her. Blake realized now that the stick was actually a wooden cane. As he helped her get up onto Ranger's back and climbed on in front of her, he wondered why someone who needed help to walk would risk going into the woods alone in such bad weather, where it would be easy to fall and get hurt. 

"Are you ready?" Blake asked, turning around to face her. 

The girl pushed some of her wet hair out of her face and nodded. She still looked unhappy. Blake thought that she would be much prettier if she frowned less - even though she was already very pretty. He turned back around quickly so that she wouldn't see him blushing. Then he remembered something. 

"Oh - you never told me your name!" he said as he kicked Ranger gently to tell him to start walking. 

"I'm Maria," said the girl, and they rode off. 

Maria 

Maria was having a very, very bad day. 

First, she'd had to run away from the village she had lived in for her entire life and escape into the woods. Then, she'd dropped the bag of food and water she was carrying when she had accidentally angered a mother bear. She'd even ripped her favorite dress on a sharp branch and got a huge splinter in her hand trying to free herself. And then, finally, it had started to rain. 

The good-looking boy with the horse was a bit of good luck, though. Even if he was the shortest and skinniest boy she'd ever met - and definitely one of the most annoying ones. 

"So, where are you from?" Blake asked. "Do you have any family? What are you doing in these woods? Are you going to Silverfell too?" 

Maria ignored him. "You should have turned left at that boulder." 

"Whoops." Blake turned Ranger around and took the right path. "Don't you want to talk? If you don't, it's going to be a very boring journey to Silverfell." 

Maria groaned. "Fine. If I tell you my story, will you tell me yours?" 

Blake suddenly looked a bit nervous. He shifted in the saddle. "Well...ok." 

"I come from a town called Maycomb. I had to escape into these woods because some people in the village burned down my house," Maria said unhappily. "They think I'm an evil witch." 

Blake nearly fell off his horse with surprise. "Oh no! I'm so sorry. Even if you were a witch, that's a terrible thing to do." He turned back to look at Maria with wide eyes. "Are you a witch?" 

"Of course not." Maria rolled her eyes. "I'm going to Silverfell to meet the Lord and Lady who govern our villages. I'll ask them to send soldiers to arrest the people who destroyed my home, and then hopefully I can go back and live in peace." 

"I hope so too." Blake looked at Maria curiously. "Why did the villagers think you're a witch?" 

Maria sighed. "I go into the woods to collect herbs for healing wounds and curing diseases. My Grandmother used to do it too, and she taught me which herbs were safe to use. It wasn't magic, but a lot of the villagers thought it was. They thought my Grandmother was a good witch, though, because she used the herbs to help them when they were sick." 

"If they didn't mind your Grandmother doing 'magic,' then why did they care about you doing it?" Blake asked. 

Maria held up her cane. "I was born with a bad foot. Some people in the village said it was a sign that I was cursed. The summer after my Grandmother died, a lot of the crops failed. They said that I had turned evil and cast a spell upon the town, so they drove me out." 

"I'm so sorry," Blake said again. "I'm sure that the Lord and Lady will help you. Those people had no right to set fire to your house. They've broken the law." 

Maria didn't say anything. She knew the Lord and Lady would probably help Blake if his house had been burned down, but she wasn't sure if they would help someone like her. 

Maria's father had been Romani - one of the traveling people that passed from village to village in wagons and caravans. She had never met him, because both of her parents died when she was very young, but she knew it was from him that she got her dark skin and hair. 

People often didn't trust the Romani. The government treated them harshly, and villagers sometimes tried to destroy their wagons or force them to leave. Maria was only half Romani, and she'd lived with her grandmother all her life in a small cottage instead of a caravan, but it was just another one of the reasons why the villagers didn't like her. Even though she was traveling all the way to Silver Hall to ask the Lord and Lady for help, she wasn't sure they would help her at all. They might throw her out again simply because of who she was, or even put her in prison. The law had never been much good for people like her. 

Blake seemed to sense that Maria was upset, so he didn't ask her any more questions. Instead, he said, "It's getting dark. We should find somewhere safe to sleep for the night." 

Maria nodded. She pushed the wet hair out of her eyes again and thought, At least tomorrow can't be any worse than today.