You put a hand to your swirling head as you stumble in the grass that’s suddenly beneath your feet. Noise and chaos surrounds you as people mill about, the energy frenetic but happy. There’s shouting, music, and all these people are dressed in ye-oldie clothes. You turn in a circle, wondering what this place is. Trees tower overhead, booths are set up, and the people…so many people. Above the heads of the crowd, you spot a strange wooden animal, or perhaps a wagon in the shape of an animal… Before you can make sense of it, fire pours from the wooden creature’s “mouth.”
You turn again at the sound of swords clashing and see a crowd surrounding two young men, outfitted like medieval warriors, sparring with wooden swords.
A festival, you realize. This is a renaissance festival, but not the kind you’ve been to—no, it appears you’ve actually traveled to renaissance times and landed amidst the revelers and performers of an actual festival. Amazing…
“You there!”
You turn toward the woman who shouted and are surprised to see her pointing at you. She’d old and draped in scarves. Beads jangle at her wrists, and a strange collection of twigs are woven into her gray hair like a crown.
You bump into a few people as you stumble over to her, not sure what else to do. When you reach her little table, which is strewn with trinkets and bowls of spices, she leans over it to grab your hand.
The gesture is as shocking as it is calming, and your confusion heightens as she looks deep into your eyes. “You aren’t from here.”
It’s not a question, so you just shake your head. “No, ma’am.”
She pats your cheek. “Never you mind. I can tell you’re a good one, but you can’t stay too long.” She cuts her eyes over your left shoulder and raises her brow.
You look to your left and see three men and a young lady in conversation. One man is shockingly blond and has a bow and quiver slung over his shoulder, another has tousled brown hair and a wide smile. The young lady has deep brown hair, kind eyes, and gestures broadly as she speaks with the third man, who is several years older, wearing leather armor, and keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword as his eyes continually scan the crowd.
“Or someone here might take a fancy to you,” she cautions.
“And why would that be a problem?” The questions slips past your lips without your permission.
The woman, who you assume is some sort of fortune teller, swats at you. “Don’t be getting any ideas. Those young people aren’t meant for you. Besides, I imagine you need to get back to the maze.”
Your eyes widen in astonishment. “You know about the maze?”
She winks. “There’s no magic in these lands, at least not that any other folks know about.” She taps the side of her head. “But I’ve always seen more than most.”
You smile at her quirkiness.
“Now,” she says with a dramatic swirl of her scarves, and suddenly there is a puzzle on the table in front of you. “To return to the maze, you must find the word in the puzzle.”
“Well done!” the woman praises. “You’ve uncovered the keyword you need. Now quickly, return through that door,” she says, pointing to a door which is suddenly and inexplicably standing beside her booth. “You’ll collect your coin on the other side.”
You do as she says, and rush through the door.
