I moved fast. The commotion would alert the others. Sir grasped the hilt of his sword. I rammed him in the stomach with the hot end of the pipe. His shirt caught on fire. Flesh sizzled. He yelped and hopped back.

Ash was on his feet, reaching for me. I brandished the pipe and he backed away. A woman’s voice hollered. No time left. Wiping the rest of the slug onto the floorboards, I sprinted for a window. An odd instinct pulled at me and I grabbed one of the glass balls from the table.

Cries and shouts followed me as I ran. Smoke fogged the room. I broke the windowpane with the blowpipe and cleared the jagged edges before diving through.

Hitting the ground with an audible thud, I gasped for breath. At least the sandy soil softened the impact. But I wasn’t free yet. I staggered to my feet and raced to a nearby copse of pine trees. Once there, I paused in amazement, I still held the glass ball and blowpipe.

Logic insisted I leave the ball there—I would need two hands to defend myself. But the little orb wanted to come, so I cradled it in the crook of my arm.

Bushy green branches thwacked me as I maneuvered through the forest. I increased my speed when the trees thinned. A rustling noise sounded behind me. I glanced back. Nothing. The sound increased.

I stopped, listening. Surrounded by the pitter-patter of movement, I scanned the forest. A brown melon-sized shape dropped from a tree branch. Suddenly the trees around me were filled with these shapes. They rained down to the ground and advanced toward me. Spiders.

Panicked, I searched for a clear path. None.

Magic, my logical mind told me. Illusions. Keep moving. Get out of the magician’s range.

My body refused to heed the advice. The glass orb in my hand began to vibrate. Momentarily distracted from the encroaching spiders, I peered at the ball. Ordinary. No flaws or bubbles. No humming of power, yet I sensed potential. As if it waited for me.

I closed my eyes, blocking the vision of a mass of spiders mere feet away. Having nothing to lose, I concentrated on the glass in my hands. I imagined myself working with this piece and reaching a critical point in the process.

Summoning my energy, I channeled magic into the glass ball. A clink sounded. I peeked at the orb in my hands; a tiny brown glass spider was inside. Without thought, I continued. The clatter of the orb filling with spiders rang in my ears. The creatures on the ground disappeared one by one. When the clearing emptied, I held the orb up to the sunlight.

It was full.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. I kept moving, and alternated running with walking. With no idea where I was or where I was going. I just went, hoping I would find something—a house, a business, people—anything that could help me.

I may have escaped Sir, but with no food, water, money or warm cloak, my troubles were far from over. All I had was a blowpipe and a heavy glass orb loaded with spiders. Spurring me on was my fear of being recaptured, which switched at times to the paranoid belief that one of Sir’s group tracked me.

When the sun set, the air cooled fast. The prospect of spending the night outdoors seemed certain. I debated the merits of continuing my journey or finding a place to sleep. My body decided when I tripped over an exposed root and used my remaining energy to stand.

I found a group of pine trees and broke off a handful of branches with my pipe. Not easy considering the lack of a sharp edge. Under one of the bigger trees, I scooped out the sandy soil, making a shallow depression. Wedged below the tree, I used the branches as a blanket.

The thought of predators kept me awake for a while. Before falling asleep, I allowed myself one satisfied smile. I was free.

A cold wetness pressed against my temple. Snuffing sounds tickled my ear. Groggy, I swiped at the annoyance and tried to turn over. But the annoyer persisted and whined.

“Go away,” Is aid to the dog before I realized the implication.

Scrambling from under the tree, I studied the yellow canine. She ran circles around me, wanting to play. Her short coat gleamed in the morning sunlight and her clear brown eyes were alight. Happy. Healthy. Well cared for. Not a stray. Or at least not a recent stray.

I searched for the dog’s owner. The dog followed me, but tended to get distracted by various smells and objects.

“Home?” I asked the young dog, hoping she would lead me there.

No luck. She spotted a rabbit and dashed off. Her stocky body wasn’t built for speed, though, and she soon loped back.

My stomach grumbled and I wished the dog had caught the rabbit. I mused over the possibility of making an animal trap, but decided to keep walking. The dog stayed with me.

After a couple of minutes, she paused and cocked her head to the side. She spun around and darted through the trees. I followed as fast as I could. Hearing a voice call out, I aimed for the source.

“There you are!”

I froze. Sir had found me. I waited for the inevitable rush, but none came.

“Where have you been?” the same voice asked, but with a playful tone.

Relaxing with relief, I realized the man was the dog’s owner. Just past the next tree, an older man petted the yellow dog. She rushed to me with her tail wagging. Excited to see me, she danced around as if I’d been gone for years instead of minutes.

“I see you found a friend,” the man said. He scanned my bedraggled clothes covered with pine needles. “Child, you’re a long way from anywhere. Do you need help?”

“Yes, sir.”

He led me to his farm, and introduced me to his wife, Judi. She immediately brought me inside. Only when I was fed and settled with a mug of hot tea in my hands did the couple ask questions. I hesitated. They lived close to Sir’s workshop. What if they knew about him and were helping him?