The next morning, Sylvia accompanied them to the general store. Jon and Karyn bought their new clothes, with Jon immediately taking the opportunity to ditch her ill-fitting logger's duds for something actually tailored for her.
"As long as we're here," the dryad said, "we should pick up some supplies. You'l want food, at least; the mountains are a few days' walk from here."
Karyn gaped. "A few days?"
Sylvia nodded. "Unless you happen to have a horse?"
Jon shook her head. "Nope. I don't think we could afford one, either. Okay, so: food, something to carry our stuff in, anything else you can think of?"
"Well, I know you're more of a brawler, but you could probably use armor of some kind," Karyn suggested.
Sylvia shook her head. "There's not much to be had in a small town like this, and you couldn't afford it, anyway."
Jon sighed. "Peachy. Guess I just have to not get hit..."
Jon yanked the backpack back up onto her shoulders and sighed. They'd been walking for over a day now, and she was more than ready to be done with this. The backpack was the big problem; while the pack itself was nicely crafted, the clasps on the strap left a lot to be desired in terms of holding things in place. The pack kept slipping down her shoulders, and she kept having to hoist it up.
And on top of that, this was about the most un-scenic road she'd ever travelled. The view to the east was just more of the same forest they'd left a couple days ago, stretching off into the far north; all the way to the mountains, according to Sylvia. And the westwardview was equally uninteresting, just a bunch of grassland. Jon desperately wished for anything to break up the monotony.
Around noon, the road took a sharp bend to the east to pass around a small pond, leaving the path ahead obscured by the forest. The three girls rounded the corner to see a wagon sitting by the road, tipped over onto its side, propped up at an angle, by a couple of pole sticking up from the bed. Jon rushed up to see what had happened.
By the looks of things, it had been there a while. Jon was no tracker, but there were no tracks left from the horse that had pulled it, which meant that they must have been washed away by the rain that had come the night before last. As Jon approached, she heard a noise from the wagon, and cautiously walked around for a better look.
Huddled against the overturned wagon was a young harpy-girl, probably no older than eight. She was muddy, bedraggled, and crying, wrapped in her own wings and surrounded by the contents of the wagon, which had been spilled onto the ground.
Jon approached her slowly, but she made no attempt to flee; only her gaze showed she was even aware of Jon's presence. "Hey there," she said, reaching out a hand toward the girl. "Are you alright?" It was a stupid thing to say, but she couldn't think of anything better.
The girl made no reply. Jon climbed under the wagon and placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched and drew a sharp breath, but seemed to calm down a little bit; Jon hoped the girl realized that she wasn't going to hurt her. "Look," she said, reaching her arm around the girl's shoulder, "we're friends. My friends and I, we're here to help you."
She remained silent, but something in her eyes told Jon that she understood. As gently as she could, Jon wrapped her arms around the girl and pulled her out from under the wagon. The girl glanced around nervously as she emerged into the daylight, but whatever she was looking for was nowhere in sight, and she relaxed noticeably, though she was still trembling.
By this time, Karyn and Sylvia had arrived, and both were surprised to see Jon emerge from the wreck holding a little girl. Jon tried to set her on her feet, but she was too weak-kneed to stand. Which made sense, Jon thought; she probably hadn't moved from that spot for over a day. Instead, Jon sat her on top of the wagon.
"Who's this?" Karyn asked. Jon shrugged. "No idea. She's not talking; I think whatever happened here was a pretty big shock for her."
"Oh man," Karyn replied. "You mean we just rescued Newt?"
Jon smiled slightly. "Well, I'm no Ripley, but I wasn't gonna just leave her there." Karyn nodded in agreement.
"Hey, you never know," Sylvia said. "You might surprise yourself someday. But it won't come to that kind of situation right now, not if this is what I think it is. Come on, let's get her cleaned up."
A little later, Jon had got the young harpy-girl cleaned up in the nearby pond, and Sylvia had made some lunch. The girl still wasn't talking, but her appetite was perfectly healthy - as it ought to be after not eating for more than a day.
"So, Sylvia," Karyn said, "you were talking earlier like you had some idea what happened here."
Sylvia nodded. "I think it was a drake attack."
"Drakes?" Jon asked. "What, like dragons?"
The dryad shook her head. "A lot of people think that, but dragons are actually very intelligent. They don't just attack at random like this. Drakes may look a lot like dragons, but they're just animals. Smart, ruthless animals, but animals."
"What makes you think it was a drake attack?" Karyn asked.
"The things around the wagon," Sylvia answered. "Intelligent attackers wouldn't just leave supplies sitting around. Or the wagon, for that matter; it's a fairly nicely-crafted one. Also, I can sense that some of the trees in the area are pretty badly scorched."
"So what happened to the people driving the wagon?" Jon asked. "Her parents, or whoever she was with. If they were, um..." She glanced at the girl. "You know, wouldn't there be some signs of that? Even after the rain, I'd think we could tell."
Sylvia nodded. "There would, but drakes don't usually do that on the spot. They like to hoard their...um, supply. So whoever was carried off might still be alive, if they're lucky."
"Shouldn't we do something, then?" Karyn asked. Sylvia sighed and shook her head.
"There really isn't anything we can do," she said. "Not with just the three of us. Besides, drakes don't normally range this far south, so even if we could track it back to its lair, it'd probably be too far north for us get there in time. All we can really do is pray that someone nearby can stage a rescue."
"Then what about the girl?" Karyn asked. "Is there anywhere we can leave her to be cared for?"
Sylvia shrugged. "Not in the area," she said. "Maybe we can find out at the library, but until then, no. We can't even locate her relatives if we don't know her name."
Suddenly, the girl spoke. Her voice was weak and hoarse, but sounded like it would be lovely if she were feeling better. "Nina," she said.
