The story begins…

For the eighth time, Kelly checked the maps. Those would be essential. If nothing else, Kelly was sure of that.

The message last night had been vague. "I miss you. Are you coming back?" It had taken Kelly a sleepless night of tossing and turning to come up with the answer.

"Yes," Kelly thought. "Yes, I'm going back. Hang on."

The old green backpack couldn't hold much more and still be manageable. It even included some water and a little food. And Kelly had the maps, of course.

"Will we even recognize each other when I get there?" thought Kelly. "It's been three years."

"Pep-talk time," Kelly whispered. "You can do this. You're ready." Kelly frowned, not believing the whisper for an instant.

Leaving a quick note next to the oven – "I can't say where I've gone and I don't know when I'll be back" – Kelly headed to the door and paused. There was one more thing. Doctor Van Holt. Kelly could make a quick visit, just to get it over with, or skip it.

"Which is scarier, I wonder," thought Kelly. "Hearing what Doctor Van Holt has to say, or worrying that I'll find out later?"

Kelly ultimately decided that she had to leave now, or she would never go. She shouldered the pack and made her way up the path, taking care not to get her sandals caught up in the roots as her walking took her deeper and deeper into the wood.

It was going to be a while. She remembered the place they were supposed to meet: it was quiet and isolated, and not a place you could stumble into by mistake. Soon, she would have to take out a map and use it.

"Not yet," she said to herself. "Just a little further."

Kelly took a deep breath. She tried to relax, and take in the scenery. She tried not to look back. It wasn't the right time to do so and she still felt so tense. She plodded on until she reached a familiar tree stump.

Kelly hadn't seen Michael in three years. A lot could change in three years.

Yes. A lot had changed in three years.

Kelly removed her canteen from her shoulder and took a sip. "Not too much," she thought.

Kelly heard Doctor Van Holt's voice in her head. "No stress, young lady. No exercise. Stay cool and hydrated and just take it easy." Kelly grimaced. Wasn't much chance of any of those where she and Michael were going.

It was cool here, at least. The doctor would be satisfied with that part.

Kelly heard a branch snap -- nearby, she thought -- and she froze as ice ran through her veins. It sounded like something heavy. Heavier than a man. There were centaurs in these woods. Kelly had seen them -- whole families -- through the trees. They posed no danger.

But there were also yocki. Her blood ran colder. With a yock, there was nothing to do but hope it passed by without noticing her. Kelly strained to listen more closely.

And there it was. She could see the yocks eyes. It was looking directly at her. She moved her hand slowly to the knife in its sheath on her belt. "Fight or flight," she had heard it called. Her two base instincts pulled in opposite directions.

In the dim light Kelly could barely distinguish the diagonal striped markings on the yock. "A female," she thought, estimating her chances of surviving a battle.

"Fight." The word in her brain was so clear she feared the yock might have heard it. "Better to go down fighting." Grasping the knife firmly in her right hand she drew it noiselessly from its sheath.

"THWANG!" "Thwang!"

As Kelly stepped forward to engage the beast, she heard the sounds of multiple arrows loosed from the trees surrounding the little clearing. A second volley. A third. The yock roared and twisted, trying to bite away the sudden pain. Then, below the roar, Kelly heard hoof beats and voices.

Four huge centaurs galloped into the clearing, swinging maces at the screaming yock, their bows hanging loose from their saddles. Frozen, Kelly watched in amazement as the centaurs pitched a practiced battle and brought the beast down.

Breathing heavily, as though it were she who killed the yock, Kelly dropped to her knees, resting her head and arms on the stump. "You did well, child." The voice in her head, again, as the nearest centaur extended his hand to her. And then, speaking aloud, he repeated, "You did well, child. You have a warrior spirit! Come, celebrate and feast with us. No one will be hungry today!"

Kelly blinked in astonishment. He offered his hand again, and she watched her arm as it reached out to grasp his. Amazed, she realized she had no fear of him. His hand was warm and calloused, and strong. She stood, and he drew her up further, to stand on the stump.

"It is a long way. Let me carry you. There will be time for introductions later." Quickly the warriors rolled the yock onto a narrow travois and they entered the forest, joining three females and several young centaurs who waited there.

It was hard to tell how much time passed in the forest. The centaur's lithe movements were hypnotic, and Kelly was sure that she fell asleep more than once. Maybe it was twice. Or maybe ten times.

It was surely hours before Kelly and the centaurs reached what must be, Kelly thought, the deepest heart of the forest. She realized that she had been expecting a temporary encampment of tents or rough structures. She could not have been more wrong. The centaur town was expansive, with beautiful structures, elaborate carvings (including high totem poles), and comfortable-looking homes with wisps of smoke emerging from their chimneys.

The centaurs, yock in tow, trotted into the town center. Curious centaur foals rushed out to marvel at the massive prize, and one centaur — the town butcher, Kelly imagined — emerged with tools to dress the town's feast.

The voice in her head again: "Welcome, child. Hop down. And then you might wish to look behind you."

Kelly dismounted, sliding down the centaur's smooth side, and spun at once.

And there was Michael, even more beautiful than she had remembered him. He stood, muscular and bronzed, in a striped leather vest, loincloth, and wood-and-leather sandals. He smiled broadly. She rushed to him, and they embraced. As Michael stroked her hair, he said "I never thought I would see you here. I never thought you would find me here."

"Why weren't you where we had planned to meet?" asked Kelly.

"That is a long and harrowing story. And one I will tell soon enough. You must be exhausted, and you look dehydrated. That one is my home," said Michael, gesturing. "The yock will not be ready for hours. Come and sleep for a while, and then I will tell you everything."