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Heydar not accepted you as his apprentice.
    Now, tell the truth. You were not so different from other women. Your life depended on the favor of men. Your freedom was an illusion that you dared to dream.

    ONLY DAYS AFTER THE START OF YOUR JOURNEY, YOU STOPPED FOR A meal in a village at a busy post. It was one stop among several along a main trade route. You and another traveler sat down across from each other at a large table. Bowls of hearty stew steamed below the nods of your heads. You noticed salt in a small bowl with a tiny wooden spoon. You didn't reach over. Instead, you asked that the salt be passed. You also pointed. It was possible you wouldn't know the other's language. The seasoning came to your hand. You said, Thank you, and the person replied, in your tongue in a strange accent, You're welcome.
    Another glance, and you knew. You both wore men's clothing but neither filled such skin. She had a large bag next to her, a satchel covered in dozens of pockets with buckles for closures. She asked if you were traveling far. Yes, you said. You assumed it was customary not to say too much and that your response was enough. However, she began to speak.
    One carries more than a load on the roads, said the traveler.
    Then she told you a tale. She knew nothing of your quest. There was no indication from your clothing, bearing, or words. Yet these are the words she said to you.

An old woman once told me a story.
    Once, there was a tribe of seers who lived deep in the forest of a great kingdom. It was rumored that they possessed writings about the whereabouts of the scarlet dragon and its secrets. Although many tried to get answers, the tribe refused to share with anyone. The tribe was stricken by a terrible illness, and all died save one. She was a girl when her parents died, and because she was so accustomed to living in the forest, she never left. She rarely entered the village except to barter. She lived in her family's tidy hut all alone except for the animals who kept her company. During the day, she worked the land with her father's tools. At night, she sorted and sewed by candlelight next to the small mirror her mother once prized.
    Now, it is said that the young prince hunted wild boars in that forest and came to know this orphan. As unlike as they were, they became fast friends. He made sure she was never hungry or cold, while she made sure that he always left her company with a jolly heart.
    Their joy was not to last, as all joy cannot. The prince grew to be a strong young man. Soon he would leave for his quest. That was when the visions began. The orphan's dreams were filled with his blood, running thick from cuts drawn by the dragon's claws. She told him of these dreams, and he laughed. He was a valiant prince. He was destined to rule his land. If he died, it would be the will of that which was much greater than he.
    On the eve of his departure, the orphan found the prince standing in an open field below a brilliant blue sky. He pointed toward the east, where the sun rises. I must confront the dragon, he said. She asked him why he had to go. Surely, she said, he could rule his kingdom without a dragon scale to place above his throne. But this was not their way.
    Night fell as quietly as the strands of her newly shorn hair. She prepared for a long journey, hemming tattered garments into the morning light.
    Yes, this orphan followed the prince for several months, never far from him. He never knew of her presence. And finally, one day, he came upon the dragon. He was locked in dreadful battle with the beast, trying to get a scale from its body, when the dragon knocked the weapons from his hands. Its enormous claw poised in the air. A sharp blinding flash of light pierced its eyes. It reared back and closed its cold lids. In a glance, the prince saw his friend holding a beam of light in her hand. Without another thought, he grabbed his sword, sliced through the beast's breast, and grabbed a fallen scale. Together, they