Fifteen years later

"Fear me! For I am a musketeer!" Gwen kicked the wooden dummy's sword out of its hand, and it soared across the red barn, smashing against a haystack beside the horse stalls.

Diesel, Gwen's Appaloosa, who was tan with white spots, leaped back and seemed to smile, baby blue eyes shimmering.

Gwen adjusted the white feather on her father's musketeer hat and cartwheeled to the haystack, releasing the sword. She punted it with her knee-high boot, and the sword returned to the dummy's hand.

"Yes!" Gwen cheered. A gust of warm, Irodian wind passed through the barn into her blonde locks that she wore in a bun.

Gwen lifted her sword over her head but dropped it when she heard, "Guinevere!"

Elisabeth, whose blonde hair was curlier than Gwen's, stormed into the barn, her dress stained with mud. "What are you doing in here training? You were supposed to plow the field with Diesel!" She crossed her arms and furrowed her brows.

"Oh, come on, Mom!" Gwen complained, slipping her sword into its hilt on her left hip. "We were getting to that. It's still early."

"It's noon."

"Oh." Gwen blushed. "Really?" Dang, the time flew by! On the bright side, at least Gwen finally perfected her boot-kicking technique. She was getting closer to becoming a musketeer—if only Elisabeth approved it. She became overprotective after the War, though, to Gwen's annoyance.

"I want that field plowed by dusk," Elisabeth growled. "And then we're going to the village."

"The village? Why?" Gwen removed her hat and brushed the dust off her brown slacks and red vest. She flipped back the wrist sleeves of her puffy-sleeved, white shirt. Her blueberry-blue eyes caught Elisabeth's emerald green ones.

"Because you're seventeen now," Elisabeth stated. "It's time for you to marry and have children."

"Marry?" Gwen shrieked. The barn rattled. "What are you talking about? I don't want to marry!" She wanted to be like her musketeer father, who died nobly in battle fifteen years ago.

"Don't give me that, young lady!" Elisabeth snatched Gwen's hat out of her hand. "You are the heir of the Emberblight family. The War took everything from me. You must have children."

"Forget it!" Gwen reached for her hat. "Give me back my hat."

"You're not becoming a musketeer under my watch," Elisabeth argued, tossing the hat to the barn's south entrance at the end of the line of stalls. "As a woman, you must continue the family tree—not run around and try to impress the king."

"I've worked for this my whole life!" Gwen spat. "You're not in charge of me. I'm seventeen!"

Elisabeth clenched her fists. "I don't care. Now, get that field plowed." She smacked the back of Gwen's head and stomped out of the barn's north entrance, leaving Gwen furious behind.

She dove into a haystack and screamed into the branches. They scratched her face, but Gwen ignored the stinging and asked, "Father, what should I do? I don't want to marry; I want to be like you." She lay there for ten minutes, and then Diesel nickered and shuffled in his stall.

Gwen rose—"Diesel?"—and turned to him.

He watched the barn's south entrance and swished his tail.

"Easy, boy." Gwen approached him and patted the tip of Diesel's muzzle. She peered over her shoulder, and her eyes widened. Where was her hat? No longer did it rest in the hallway. Elisabeth couldn't have taken it because she exited from the north entrance.

Gwen left Diesel and shuffled to where her hat once was. She squinted and kneeled, brushing her hand over fresh paw prints. "Paw prints?" The line led outside to the cornfields and toward a forest behind the barn. Gwen used to play there all the time when she was little.

She grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows from an empty stall and opened Diesel's, dragging him out. Gwen tacked him up and climbed into the English saddle. She rested both hands on his reins and clicked her tongue. "Follow those paw prints, Diesel."

Diesel nickered again and dipped his head like a bow.

"What are you so nervous about?" Gwen lightly kicked him. "At most, we're only dealing with a dog. Besides, I have to get my hat. It was Father's."

Diesel seemed to sigh. Eventually, he perked up and nodded at Gwen.

She patted him. "That's my boy. Let's do this." With that, she urged him forward, and Diesel cantered toward the forest, following the prints the entire way.

***

Gwen's hat was her only connection to her father, so it meant the world to her, not the journey to the forest. She and Diesel got lost in the maze of cornfields, where they ran around like drunk pelicans until they finally found the prints again and stumbled out of them.

There was the forest, a looming shadow of guilt, mystery, and adventure. The trees were so close together that Gwen wondered if they suffocated each other.

Thick fog greeted her and Diesel when they entered the den of lost memories, including new ones. The paw prints escorted them to a small, rushing creek. Diesel crossed it, and Gwen listened to her surroundings, dismounting. She tied him up and paid attention to her senses.

The birds chirped happy and melancholy melodies, but there was also the distant pecking of a woodpecker. Flowers of all kinds gave the forest a painting-like feeling.

Lost in nature, Gwen almost forgot why she went to the forest in the first place. She traveled deeper until she finally reached a dead end. A cliff and violent river that looked like they craved her blocked her path.

Birds soared by Gwen's head, frightened by something.

She heard growling from a cluster of bushes behind her. Gwen lifted her bow and pointed her arrow at them. "Who's there? I have a weapon." She waited, but nothing came for her, and the growling died.

Gwen took a deep breath, but her eyes widened when she saw her hat. It was right in front of the bushes. She knew it was hers because of the old bloodstains, evidence of her father's heroic deeds.

Gwen lowered her bow. Whew. Talk about an overreaction, she thought. She slipped her arrow in her quiver and set her bow on her back. Unfortunately, just before she picked up her hat, something roared, and an animal leaped out of the bushes.

Yelping, Gwen stumbled backward. Her back hit the cliff, and she quickly drew her bow and arrow again. Out of all the animals to make their home in the forest, that was the one who had to find her hat—a wolf.

It was a miraculous creature, like no wolf Gwen had ever seen. Whitish-grayish, fluffy fur covered the dog's underbody, but its upper body, head, and tail had dark gray fur—almost black. It had four white socks and a strange design on its forehead that looked like a diamond with a mirror inside. Its eyes were emerald green, and hair-like fur ran down its neck to the top of its spine.

Gwen had no idea what to do. It was not every day a wolf stole her musketeer hat. She threatened him with her arrow and started toward him, but he snarled at her. The sight of his sword-like, shiny fangs caused her to leap back again.

Gwen was in a difficult situation. Behind her was the cliff, next to her was the river, and in front of her was the crazy canine.

The wolf's green eyes met hers, and Gwen returned his stare. "Don't make me shoot you. You have something that belongs to me. We don't steal."

Yeah right. Like the wolf cared.

He snapped at her, but Gwen scoffed. "You don't scare me."

The wolf's face dropped, and he whined.

Gwen asked him, "What's your problem? Don't tell me you were trying to act big and strong to show off. Now, go on."

Nevertheless, the wolf did not move.

Gwen switched her bow to one hand and pointed her free one toward her hat.

The wolf's ears flattened, noticing her. He grabbed her hat and rushed by her.

"Oh, come on!" Gwen shouted.

The wolf hopped onto a platform that stuck out from the cliff's face. He tossed the hat onto his head and peered over his shoulder at Gwen.

She attempted the next round weaponless. Gwen clapped her hands and said in her best dog-owner voice, "Come here, boy. Bring the hat to Guinevere now."

"Awoo!" answered the wolf.

Oh great, he was calling for his pack.

Gwen expected more wolves to join them, but none did. Was the dog alone? If so, why? Weren't wolves pack animals? Whatever the case, Gwen had to get her hat back.

"Please, that hat belonged to my father," she whimpered. "The War took him from my mother and me. It's all I have left."

Her confession grabbed the wolf's attention. A tear running down Gwen's cheek helped him change his mind.

The hat dropped from the wolf's head, and he picked it up in his powerful jaw. Trotting to Gwen, he set it down next to her ankles.

"Thank you, boy. Thank you for understanding," she said while rubbing her cheeks. She pulled the hat close to her and sniffed the wolf's fur. Something about his scent was comforting. He did not smell dirty but clean. It was like he was not a wild animal at all.

Gwen's eyes landed on the mirror-like pattern on his forehead. "What is that?"

Again, the wolf snarled, and he hurried away from her, taking a quick break on top of a hill. "Awoo!" he announced one more time. Then, like that, the wolf trotted down the hill's face.

Thousands of questions swarmed through Gwen's brain. Why did the wolf steal her hat, how did he find her farm, and why wasn't he scared of her? She asked her father for a clue to break Elisabeth's wall. Was the wolf it? Gwen had no idea. All she knew was that she went into the forest to find her hat and met a mysterious dog instead.