Emma soon realized that she might not have planned this adventure well enough. She had been traveling for days, skirting around the villages near her home town so as not to be recognized. The ground was hard and uncomfortable, but she got used to it. The nights were cold, but she had a fire to keep her warm. Her feet ached, but her determination kept her moving forward. Now though, she was at a loss. She had run out of food, and she had two choices: be slowed down by hunting and then cooking the meat, or stopping at a village to buy food. Her purse was heavy from the eclectic mix of jobs she had worked in the past few years, but she still wasn't sure if she was far enough away from home. Her mother would have sent out a search party for her, and because of this, she had been traveling through the woods instead of the main road. It would be easier to hide from them there. But a town was a much smaller hunting area, and it would be almost impossible to be missed if someone was searching for her there. This was the moment Emma realized she had not planned enough. She resigned herself to the fact that she would have to stop in a village, for she had nothing to hunt with and so would have to set up traps that would take days to fill. She did not want to wait that long. She had waited long enough. Living off roots and berries was not an option, so the town it was.

Emma waited until late in the afternoon to approach the next village. That way, if she ended up needing to run, she would soon have the cover of darkness. Passing under the gates, she tucked her chin deep beneath the cowl of her cloak. She walked straight to the center of town, where the vendors were. Her first stop was the baker, where she bought a couple loaves. The butcher was next, to replenish her stock of dried meats. In that way she flitted between stalls, stuffing her pack full. By the time the sun began to set, she had everything she needed. As she was about to head back to the gates, she spotted a blacksmith's shop. Displayed in the window were beautiful suits of armor. Emma knew that she would never make it to the Evil Queen with only a sword. She needed something else to protect her; she needed armor.

A bell dinged as she pushed through the door and into the shop. She heard rustling in the back, and then the blacksmith walked in. Emma slipped off the hood in courtesy, and he seemed surprised to see a woman. She couldn't really blame him.

"How can I help you?" he asked, brushing his large hands on the thick hide of his apron.

"What types of armor do you have?" she inquired.

He raised his eyebrows, and then led her to a separate room filled with armor. Emma's eyes sparkled back at her from all the shiny metal surrounding her. She walked straight past the full, heavy suits and the thick chainmail tunics. Nothing seemed quite right.

She turned to the blacksmith. "Do you have anything, lighter? Sparser?"

He pondered for a minute, seeming to be facing an inner struggle, and then nodded. "I'll be right back." He returned with a small trunk. Setting it on the floor in front of Emma, he pulled off the lid. A thin smile graced Emma's features as she gazed down at the contents.

"Who was this made for?" Emma inquired, for it was clear it was hand-fashioned with someone in mind.

"My wife." The blacksmith replied. At Emma's questioning glance, he sighed and continued. "She believed she could single-handedly save us from the Evil Queen's soldiers. For years she begged me to make this for her, until I finally gave in. With it she fought the next troop of soldiers that came to our town. I tried to stop her, but she would not be swayed. She killed many of them, but they took her down in the end."

"I'm sorry." Emma murmured, glancing down at the beautifully crafted armor. "Are you truly willing to sell it?"

"It's doing no use here." He shrugged. "I've held on long enough, and it seems you could use it."

"Yes, I could." She looked him straight in the eyes. "How much?"

Ten minutes later, Emma was fully dressed out in armor. It fit her form perfectly. A breastplate, back plate, and shoulder pads protected her upper body. Thick metal bands wrapped around her lower and upper arms, and shin and knee guards decorated her legs. A coat of finely crafted chain mail fell from just below her breasts to her lower thighs, splitting at the sides of her waist to allow free movement. In the middle of the breastplate was carved a swan, painted bright white. There was also a small shield with the same insignia upon it. Strapping her sword back around her waist, Emma wondered at how light the whole getup was. It was exactly what she needed.

Glancing out the window, she could see that daylight was dwindling rapidly. She had to get out of town before they shut the gates for the night. Bidding farewell to the blacksmith, Emma wrapped her cloak around herself and strode out of the shop. She made it out of the gates just in time, and set up camp about a mile outside of town.

After building a fire and eating a hearty dinner of bread and fresh cheese, Emma took off her armor and slipped it into the bag she had also bought from the blacksmith to protect it. Snuggling into her blankets by the fire, Emma smiled contentedly. There had been no sign in the town that she was being searched for, so she assumed it would be safe to travel on the road from then on. That would make the going much quicker. Her plan was working out after all.