The imagined gunshot woke me with a jerk.

Blurs of green and gold came into focus, and it took my eyes a moment to realize I was staring at the roof of a tent. It was quiet inside, though sounds echoed from beyond the fabric walls. I could hear the dull hum of voices, stock animals, metal ringing, and a dog barking.

"It was real," I murmured. Fear surged into me, and I pushed myself up, half-expecting someone to rush to my side, but there was nothing. I was alone.

Looking back on that moment, I'm grateful I was alone. I don't think I would have been able to gather my thoughts and get my bearings if I'd had woken up to someone sitting by my bedside. Loneliness was easily coped with, something familiar in a world of insanity, and that was what I used to ground and center myself. I knew I'd last been on the floor, near a chair. A woman, a healer, had been tending to me and Belenus. I pushed the blanket aside to check myself over.

"I'm not naked," I said, relieved. The clothes I'd been wearing, however, were gone.

A cream-colored shirt covered my torso. It was similar to a tank top, with a set of straps about three fingers wide on each shoulder and a neckline that came down about four inches below my collar bones. It ended just past my hips and covered the top of the light-brown fleece leggings I was now wearing. The crystal Belenus had given me hung from a chain and rested against my sternum beneath the shirt.

"Is this the same tent, though?" I asked. I turned to observe my surroundings and tried to keep myself from panicking. 

It was spacious—about half the size of a small house. My bed was low to ground but almost as big as my queen-size mattress and indescribably comfortable. To the left of it was a table that had three books in a stack, a latched briefcase-looking thing with a long strap, and a wooden stand with a yellow crystal at the top.

Perpendicular to the table was my backpack and shoes, an unlocked chest, and two pairs of boots. A bow and quiver rested against the far side of the chest. To the right of the bed was a long table with four chairs, one on each end and two facing the tent opening. It held a bowl of fruit, a pitcher, and two more wooden stands with yellow crystals. The chairs matched my hazy memory from before I fainted. It took me a moment to understand why, and then I remembered the vine-carved legs. Each of the chairs had them.

Against the far wall of the tent, was some sort of oven. It seemed to be made from dirt and grass formed into a dome. Inside, a small fire was flickering, and the smoke went up a tubelike chimney that seemed to be made of the same dirt as the oven. On the other side of the oven, diagonal to where I sat, was a bed identical to the one I occupied. Between it and the tent wall was a small table with a crystal-topped wooden stand, a frame of some sort, and an orb the size of a grapefruit. A horse whinnied shrilly somewhere beyond the tent, making me jump. 

"Okay, okay. This is really happening," I said and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, hissing as my feet made impact with the cold rug. The air lingering around the ground was chilly, though the air from about bed level and up was comfortable. It took a moment to realize what I had thought was a dirt oven was more than likely heating the tent.

"Damn it," I said.

I blew out a breath and pushed myself to my feet, hustling over to grab my shoes and my bag. My whole body protested, particularly my thighs and butt. 

"Suck it up," I grunted to myself and shuffled back to the bed.

I opened my bag first to take inventory. Everything I'd packed was there, as were the clothes I'd been wearing. They no longer smelled of detergent or perfume, though. My gun, knife, and ammo were all safely stored in my bag, as well. I contemplated putting on my bra, but I didn't want to deal with changing at the moment. 

"You've obviously had your clothes changed for a reason, genius," I told myself as an excuse not to trade outfits. With my belongings located and inventoried, I found I had nothing to do. I wanted to explore, but my trip across the tent had confirmed my suspicions that it was chilly out. I didn't know how cold it was, and walking out in what was obviously undergarments was probably a bad idea.

They don't want you wandering around, my inner voice huffed. I didn't want to cause any problems. I just wanted to do something, to find the people who'd brought me here. Just because you're in a different world doesn't mean you're a different person. You're still an afterthought. A burden.

"Why am I so useless?" I asked myself, putting my bag on the ground and flipping the blanket back over my legs. Underneath the edge I had tossed aside earlier was a pile of clothes. I'd never felt like hitting my head against a wall so intensely before that moment. There was a folded note on top of the pile. I squinted at the elegant script.

Lady Grace, 

If you are reading this note, I am sorry I was not able to be there when you woke.

These clothes are for you, as is the pair of boots beside my own. If you wish for your sleeping garments to be washed, place them at the foot of the bed. If you wish to wear them another night, place them in the trunk. The cloak inside is yours to use if you desire. There is also a brush, comb, and mirror inside belonging to Faolán, but he has agreed to let you use them if you do not like the style your hair has been arranged in.

In one of your boots, you will find a brooch. If you fasten it anywhere visible, you will be able to purchase anything you feel necessary, have unquestioned access to any of the kitchen tents, and be able to acquire an escort of any soldier or guard to the location of your choosing within the camp.

I believe it goes without saying, but do your best to keep your true self hidden. You may use your name, but be mindful of anything else. You are an intelligent and resourceful woman, so I believe you wouldn't reveal yourself to harm. This warning is truly more for my self-assurance.

Sincerely,

Belenus Hearthbright

"You overreacted, like always," I chastised myself and rubbed my face with a hand. That's when it hit me that I had been bathed. I didn't have that icky “I passed out in my clothes and makeup” feeling. My hair even felt like it'd been washed. "How long was I out?" Of course, nobody answered, so I stood up to examine my new clothes.

There was a forest-green top that looked like it had been ripped right out of a closet in Rivendell, complete with embroidered golden-knot designs along the neckline and flowing sleeves. With it was a soft, light-brown, leather corset with straps to go over my shoulders. It had two flapped pockets, no taller or wider than credit cards, with dull, green stones for buttons on each side of the laces. The side with the laces also seemed to be formed to support breasts. The light-brown pants were the same soft leather as the ones Belenus had been wearing when I saved him, and they laced up in the front. Beneath all of that was a pair of thin, cloth material that was undeniably boyshort-shaped underwear, as well as fleece-lined socks that came up almost to my knees.

It took me a bit longer than I anticipated to work my way into the clothes. Surprisingly enough, tying the bodice wasn't the hard part. Tying the pants was. After about seven tries, I realized I couldn't look down to tie them because then my pudge would cause them to fall loose when I straightened. They were divinely smooth, but almost immediately, I could feel them retaining my body heat. Thankfully, the underwear did not roll up like my store-bought ones back home tended to do under leggings or skinny jeans. When I held my tunic up to try to look at the fit of the pants, I was pleased with the effect. The material, which I realized may not be leather at all, gave an insane amount of support to my thighs and butt, which I couldn't see, only feel, all while maintaining incredible flexibility and stretch. I even tried squatting instead of bending to retrieve my boots, and I may have whimpered in delight at how the leggings moved with me instead of constricting. 

"Okay, let's see if these fit," I said to no one.

The pair of boots I had grabbed were absolutely for me, as they had been noticeably smaller than the shiny ones beside them, and they looked brand new. Inside, as promised, was a golden brooch. I set it on the table to examine after I put my clothes away. They were a deep, rich brown, with gold designs along the side that matched my top, and they came up to half an inch below my knee when I slid them on. To test them out, I carried my folded pajamas over to the chest. Despite seeming to be new, they fit without issue, even at my calves. The inch-high heel would do well to keep my foot in any stirrup but was also comfortable and supportive enough that I could walk in them for miles. Sixteen-year-old Grace, with her cheap Arwen cosplay, sobbed for joy deep in my soul.

I opened the chest, finding the promised mirror, comb, and brush inside. They were lying atop a brown cloak that was the same color as my boots. Belenus' letter had said my hair would be styled, so I lifted the mirror anxiously. It was made of metal strands woven and welded together to form ivy, roses, vines, and blossoms, but it was about the size of a piece of printer paper. There was no way I could use it to check out my entire appearance.

Do you even want to see how huge you probably look anyway? 

I shook my head, trying to force the thoughts out, as I held the mirror up. "Holy Tardis of Gallifrey," I gasped at my reflection. 

The lackluster curls that were always frizzy and knotted were now smooth, bouncy, and shiny where my hair was down. They had worked with my natural side part, and the left side was styled from my temple to the base of my skull in two french braids. Bright against the fading brass of my box-dye highlights, green threads that matched my tunic were woven into the braids. I reached back to find they had secured the ends with the same ribbons and small gold charms. For the first time since middle school, I felt pretty without makeup. 

Carefully, I returned the mirror, closed the trunk, and ignored the lump in my throat. I wouldn't let the extreme care someone had obviously taken with me while I was unconscious unsettle me. I needed to keep my calm and not freak out before I could track down Belenus. The brooch proved the perfect distraction.

It was a golden circle about the size of a golf ball, and in the center of it was a tree. The roots of the tree came down to surround a single flame, and then they twisted up to knot and intertwine along the edges and up to mingle with the branches. Where the roots and limbs didn't knot together, the branches ended in leaves. At first glance, they all seemed to be leaves, but I noticed that some of the branches ended in tiny stars like from a compass rose or a Christmas star. Set into these stars were tiny white crystals, and they glimmered in the light coming through the tent and from the small hearth. 

"It's so beautiful," I whispered. There was a marking on the back, obviously from a jeweler of some sort, but I couldn't make out what the letters were. I set it down to tie my cloak and fastened the brooch over the strings.

Don't be a klutz and lose it, my inner voice scolded me. The knot of anxiety returned, making me cringe. I had two choices now; sit still and wait or go out and explore. Belenus had made it clear in his note that I was free to do as I wished. Do you really think you can fit in if you walk out there? My anxiety stirred my doubt, and I swallowed hard. 

"No," I murmured to myself, gritting my teeth. "But I'm not gonna sit here and mope. I'll just go armed." I went around the bed to my bag again, retrieving my knife. Belenus' note had said to not reveal who I truly was, so that made my gun off-limits. Luckily, the waistband of my pants held up the weight of the knife and holster, and my top was long enough to cover it.

Like that's going to help you. Anyone here can probably kick your ass. Why bother?

I ignored the taunting of my own anxiety and approached the tent flap. Drawing a breath, I pushed it aside, stepped into the sun.