Mist rose in the West Virginia mountains, veiling them in soft, smoky gray. Tegan Craddock breathed deeply. The Craddock cabin nestled in the trees behind her. A brook babbled at her feet. She waded along the edge, splashing a little and scattering the small fish. The sound of a gunshot shattered the air, and she cringed. Her father and brother, Idris, shouldered their guns early and walked into the forest. Tegan thought of the deer or rabbit they shot. She loved the forest animals and hated hunting them.

She stood still, waiting for the gun to crack again, but all remained silent. A bird chirped in the trees, and Tegan relaxed. She waded in the brook and dreamed. Her father thought she dreamed too much. Her eyes would cast a faraway look and travel a million miles away. One moment, she was a fairy princess; the next, she transformed into a milkmaid. In every fantasy, she became a damsel in distress. A white knight always came to her rescue.

The Craddock's came from Wales three years earlier. Tegan's mother died unexpectedly, and her father decided a change of scene was necessary. He packed up his small family and moved to West Virginia. Once they arrived, her father and brother built the log cabin nestled in the woods. Tegan helped Granny with the inside work and the gardening. One morning, she awoke to find Granny sitting still in her fireside rocking chair. When she prodded the old woman, she canted sideways. Granny was dead.

Idris dug a grave behind the cabin, and they laid the old woman to rest. Tegan gathered wildflowers and tended the grave. She had no one to help her with the chores. Her father and brother kept themselves busy in the woods, hunting and fishing.

Tegan left the brook and wandered into the forest. Her lilting voice echoed between the tall trees as she sang Greensleeves. If anyone noticed her during her lonely sojourns, they would have recognized her as a forest nymph. Her ethereal body flitted between the filtered sunbeams, and her long golden hair created a halo above her brows. At times, Tegan looked unreal.

"It's beautiful here, Granny," Tegan whispered in her soft Welsh accent. "I wish you were still here with us."

"I am here with you," Granny's voice floated on the breeze.

Tegan stopped and turned a slow circle. She knew she heard a voice but saw no one. Her eyes penetrated the forest depths searchingly.

"Granny?" she asked.

"Over here, child," Granny's worn voice stated.

Tegan followed the voice. A shadowy form appeared between the trees. She rushed toward it but found no one. She blamed her over-active imagination. Flitting through the trees, she gathered wildflowers and took them to the gravesite. Kneeling, Tegan cleaned away the bracken and placed her bouquet beneath the crude wooden cross. She wished Granny was real and not lying beneath the cold ground for eternity.

"I love you, Granny," Tegan whispered, rising. She stood at the grave with her head bowed.

"I love you too, child," she thought she heard. A slight breeze rustled the leaves above her head.

Tegan returned to the cabin and prepared the bread for baking. The soft dough clung to her fingers while she formed the loaf. Finally, she slid it into the fireplace oven, where it would slowly bake. Her father and Idris would come home for lunch and then return to the woods. The afternoon would stretch out long and lonely.

Her father kept a few books in the cabin. Although Tegan had read them several times, she curled into the rocker with Dicken's Oliver Twist and began it again. When the bread was finished baking, she placed it on a window sill to cool it and chopped vegetables for a stew. Idris came in with a skinned rabbit, and she added it to the pot.

"Reading again?" her father grumbled, closing the cabin door behind him. He leaned his gun against the door. "There's plenty to do around here, girl, without dawdling over books."

"I finished the morning work ages ago," Tegan stated, glancing up briefly. "I got the water, milked the cow, fed the chickens, did a baking, and prepared dinner. When you've had lunch, I'll do the afternoon chores."

"See to it you do," her father grouched.

"Yes, Papa." Tegan knew better than to argue.

Idris helped himself to a chunk of bread and buttered it. Tegan wished he'd slice it instead of tearing it up. He took her hard work for granted; he took her for granted. Between her father and brother, they demolished the loaf. When they left, Tegan found she had nothing to eat. She gathered up a bucket and went berrying. The blueberries, strawberries, and huckleberries she gathered would serve as her lunch.

The Granny figure grew stronger as Tegan wandered the forest. At times, she could practically see the old woman in the distance. However, as she drew nearer, the figure faded. Tegan's heart broke. She longed for companionship. Her father and Idris came home to eat and sleep. Otherwise, they left her alone.

At times, Tegan wished they had never left Wales. She had friends there and schooling. She never saw neighbors in the mountains; the nearest town was too far to travel to in one day.

The sun glinted through the leaves. Tegan moved from shadow to light, her form flickering in and out. She lost herself in fantasies about damsels and white knights. Elves, trolls, and dragons lived in the forest depths. She promised to write down her fantasies and weave beautiful stories one day.

Tegan continued to walk and kick up fallen leaves. Her mind was far away and long ago. Lancelot rode past on a white stead. She imagined herself as Guinevere clinging to his waist. The horse galloped through the woods, dodging trees. Lost in fantasy, she roamed across the mountainous terrain. Then, the ground fell away beneath her feet.

Tegan plunged down and down, landing in a heap at the bottom of a long shaft. Dazed, she looked upward. A thin sunbeam found her, providing a slight light. She stood and moved to stand beneath it. A little to her left, a long iron railing traveled further into the cavern. A minecart full of coal stood along the rails. Tegan had fallen into a mineshaft.

"Help! Help! Help!" she called fruitlessly. No one would ever find her. No one would know where to look. Tegan stood in the sunbeam, looking upward. She couldn't climb out. The tunnel ahead of her was dark and foreboding. Covering her face, she cried.

"There, there," Granny's voice soothed. "There's no need for tears, child."

"I'm going to die down here!" Tegan wailed.

"No, you won't. Granny's here with you." The voice seemed real, but Tegan knew it wasn't.

"You're not here; you're dead." Tegan backed away, her back connecting with the solid rock wall.

"I am here, Tegan," her Grandmother stated. "Not in the flesh but in spirit. I'm here to help you."

"Help? How?" Tegan stared at the Granny form. She looked almost real in her homespun dress and white apron. Tegan reached out her fingers and nearly brushed the fabric. Her hand stroked empty air.

"Don't you worry, child."

Tegan slid down the rock wall and sat. Encircling her knees with her arms, she rocked back and forth. The old coalmine terrorized her. She recalled stories of collapsed mines and men trapped underground for days, sometimes an entire week. In ways, West Virginia wasn't so much different from Wales.

"I want to go home," Tegan exclaimed, squeezing her eyes closed. Perhaps she could transport herself back home if she thought hard enough. She thought of her soft bed and the Dove in the Window quilt, which she pieced together with Granny. If she saw it in her mind, she could make it real and the coal shaft a dream. "I want to go home."

"That's not the way, Tegan," Granny whispered, squatting before her. The old woman pressed her hand with gnarled fingers.

Granny seemed more real than ever. Tegan felt her arthritic hands clench hers. Reaching out, she stroked the wrinkled cheek. Granny was real!

"Please, Granny, take me home," she asked, pressing her face against her Grandmother's body.

"In a moment; just wait." Granny stood and listened. "When I give you the signal, shout as loud as possible."

The world stood still. Tegan's heart beat wildly. She waited in anticipation. Granny seemed to listen and wait.

"Now! Scream!"

Tegan opened her mouth and screamed HELP as loud as she could. When she did, her Grandmother's form faded, and then she disappeared. Tegan clamped her mouth shut, her eyes flying wide with terror.

"Keep screaming!" Granny's ethereal voice echoed around the underground chamber. "Scream!"

Tegan followed Granny's orders. She tilted her head back and bellowed as loud as she could. A face appeared in the shaft opening. A rope tumbled down through the hole.

"Tie it around you tightly," a male voice ordered.

Tegan did as he commanded. Slowly, the taunt rope lifted her feet from the ground. She dangled in mid-air, her legs kicking uncontrollably. Finally, her head popped out of the hole, and her rescuer helped her get onto solid ground. Tegan fell to her knees, gulping fresh air.

"Are you all right?" The woodsman knelt beside her. She nodded, unable to speak. "I'm Lance. Lance Carpender. I'm building a cabin in the meadow. An old woman came along and told me a young girl was trapped in an old mine shaft. I came as quickly as I could."

"An old woman?" Tegan muttered, flabbergasted. She thought momentarily, then whispered, "Thank you, Granny."

"Your Granny?" Lance asked, curious.

"My Granny is dead," Tegan answered, her voice faraway and forlorn.

"Where do you live? I'll take you home," her rescuer offered. Tegan pointed in the direction of her cabin.

Lance led a white horse from the nearby woods and helped her mount behind him. Tegan clung to his waist and pressed her cheek against his back.

"Are you Lancelot?" she asked, hardly realizing she was speaking.

"Only if you're Guinevere," Lance chuckled, prodding his horse onward.

"But I'm Tegan," she muttered, her lips forming the words against his shoulder.

"Ah, well, a rose by any other name, as Shakespeare once said," her companion stated. "I'm still Lancelot. That's my given name. Everyone calls me Lance."

"Hmm. Lance," Tegan echoed. She felt herself falling in love—an entirely new experience for her.

Lancelot turned his horse toward the sunset. They rode into the mountain pass, plodding along at a steady pace. Sheltered by the woods, Granny watched and smiled. Her body faded, and she slept peacefully in her West Virginia mountain grave.

!!!COMING SOON!!!

NEVADA