Darkness in front of her. Darkness behind her. Gripping the handlebars with frozen fingers, she fought to keep pedaling. Her teeth chattered, her muscles aching and her body shivering as sheets of icy rain stung her freckled cheeks. The road was winding and narrow and nearly impossible to follow in the impenetrable blackness. But Rey refused to turn back now. Not after she had come this far.
Still, fear gripped her, causing her insides to twist in knots. She had never been this far from home—had never even left the city where she'd grown up. And now, here she was. In the woods somewhere. Almost certainly lost and most definitely alone.
Just keep pedaling, she told herself. You'll find it soon.
As wind and rain rushed through thickly gathered trees, Rey blinked persistent droplets from her eyes and squinted. Ahead and slightly to her left, she thought she saw something. It was white and rectangular with—
She squinted harder.
With black lettering. As she drew closer, the blurred letters became clearer, and she was finally able to make out the words: "Welcome to Craiton." This was it. Hope swelled inside her, and she pedaled faster.
With the faint orange glow of a streetlamp guiding her, Rey sped past the sign, and the trees soon became hedgerows. Cottages with darkened windows lined both sides of the road, and several cars were parked along the sidewalks. It was not until she reached the center of the village that she found a two-story structure which still had warm light emanating from within. At first glance, she had thought it was another house. But upon closer inspection, Rey noticed neatly arranged tables and chairs situated in front of the red brick exterior. A restaurant? she wondered.
Her tires skidded on the wet asphalt as she braked, and she planted her brown combat boots firmly on either side of the bicycle. Rey's stomach rumbled, and she bit her lip. She had some snacks in her backpack, but the idea of a well-cooked meal was far more enticing. Swinging her leg over the seat, she stood on her own two feet for the first time in more hours than she cared to count, and her knees nearly buckled.
Rey caught herself on the handlebars and used them to remain upright as she pushed the bike around to the side of the building and leaned it against the brick. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she straightened. Her legs felt like rubber, and she could barely move her stiffened fingers. Curling them into fists and stuffing them into the folds of her soaked sweater, Rey splashed through a puddle as she ran toward the door. Then she bounded up two small steps and grabbed the handle.
Twisting it, she shoved the door inward and stumbled through the opening. The bitter cold retreated, and Rey was greeted by the warmth of a burning hearth and the mouth-watering aromas of cooked meats, vegetables, and freshly baked bread. Breathing it all in, she glanced around with curious eyes. Two men sat across from each other at a square, wooden table, deeply engrossed in a game of chess. But every other chair in the pub was empty, and she guessed that it would soon be closing down for the night.
"Close the door, child! You're letting a chill in."
Startled, Rey jumped. Her gaze darted to the bar ahead of her, then to the old woman who stood behind it.
"Sorry," she mumbled, reaching back and firmly shutting the door.
A puddle was forming on the floor, her clothes dripping as they clung to her body. Strands of dark hair were plastered to her forehead, and she tried to sweep them back. Rey suddenly realized how ridiculous she must look, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment when she noticed that the men had paused their game and were staring at her. Shifting her backpack, she clenched her jaw and raised her chin. Then she approached the bar.
"What can I get for you, dear girl?" the woman inquired before Rey could say a word.
"Um," she paused and peeked at the chalkboard menu, "how much is—?"
"Oh, don't worry about that," the woman interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Rey's expression hardened as she looked back at the brown eyes blinking behind a pair of large, round glasses. "I can pay," she insisted, even though she wasn't sure that she could.
"I see that you have traveled a long way," the woman observed, "and it is not often that we have visitors in this little village of ours. Please, allow me to do this simple service for you."
Rey sighed reluctantly, but the stranger's smile was genuine and kind, so she swallowed her pride and finally relented. "All right," she nodded.
"Have a seat over there by the fire, and I'll bring you something to eat."
She did as the woman said, turning and wandering over to a burgundy armchair that faced the flickering flames. Rey hesitated a moment, then shrugged off her backpack and carefully sank onto the cushioned seat. Extending her trembling fingers toward the fire, she soon found herself transfixed by its dancing tongues and crackling logs as they crumbled. The numbness in her hands was slowly subsiding, replaced by irksome tingling sensations. But her misery was lessening, and Rey allowed herself the smallest of smiles. At last, she had made it.
"Here you go, dear."
Glancing up, she saw the tiny old woman standing beside her chair. There was a tray in her hands with a bowl and a fluffy roll, and Rey accepted it eagerly. "Thank you."
"My beef stew is a local favorite. It should warm you right up—from the inside out as I like to say!"
Rey's mouth was already full of bread, her cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk's as she tried to smile.
"Make yourself right at home," the woman went on, "and let me know if you need anything else. My name is Maz."
She swallowed and smiled sheepishly. "I'm Rey."
"Well, we are happy to have you here, Rey. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Craiton."
"Thanks," she replied, and as soon as Maz left her alone again, she started spooning the stew into her mouth.
It was the most magnificent thing she had ever tasted, and what Maz had told her was proven true. A glowing warmth that had begun in her gut was rapidly spreading through the rest of her. Devouring the delicious meal, Rey left neither a drop of soup nor a crumb of bread. And when she had finished, she sat back, breathing a deep sigh of satisfaction.
She had questions, so many questions… But her lids were growing heavy as she stared into the fire. There was music playing, soft and low. She hadn't noticed it until now. It was like a lullaby, its chorus of voices carrying her along its gently flowing current:
"Moon river, wider than a mile
I'm crossing you in style some day
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker
Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way.
Two drifters, off to see the world
There's such a lot of world to see
We're after the same rainbow's end, waitin' 'round the bend
My huckleberry friend, moon river, and me."
Rey's head started to nod, her exhaustion finally overcoming her. And her last conscious thoughts were of the long road that had led her here, and what awaited her at its end. A pot of gold, or nothing?