Chapter One
Daisy
"This is it, Rascal. Our grand adventure begins here."
My tiny Yorkie mix gives me his signature unimpressed glance from the passenger seat, which honestly feels a bit judgmental coming from someone wearing a pink argyle sweater. I check my reflection in the rearview mirror of my car, adjusting the messy bun I'm trying to convince myself looks artistic rather than chaotic. The ribbon-festooned notebook on my dash catches my eye, filled with half-formed story ideas and character sketches that still don't feel quite right.
"Don't give me that look," I tell Rascal. "Mountain Laurel Lodge is exactly what we need. Fresh air, majestic views, adorable woodland creatures..." I trail off as a rather large deer bounds across the gravel drive ahead. "See? The universe agrees with me."
The lodge rises before us like something out of a fairy tale, all weathered wood and stacked stone, with morning mist still clinging to the mountains behind it. Pink mountain laurel blooms line the walkway, and rocking chairs dot the wraparound porch. It's perfect. Exactly the kind of place where a children's story about a brave little forest friend could come to life.
I grab my messenger bag, decorated with perhaps a few too many enamel pins of woodland creatures, and clip Rascal's leash to his harness. "Ready to be inspired?"
He sneezes, which I choose to take as enthusiasm.
The woman who greets us at the front desk has silver hair and kind eyes that crinkle when she smiles. "You must be Daisy Harper. I'm Evie Callahan. Welcome to Mountain Laurel Lodge."
"Thank you for having us." I hoist Rascal higher in my arms as he tries to investigate a potted plant. "I hope the pet policy is still in place?"
"Of course, dear. Though you might want to keep him close on the trails. We've had quite a few rabbit sightings lately."
My writer's brain immediately starts spinning tales about brave bunnies and their forest adventures. I fumble for my notebook, nearly dropping Rascal in the process. "That's actually perfect. I was hoping to do some trail walking today, you know, for research."
"Research?" Evie's eyes sparkle with interest as she hands me an old-fashioned key attached to a wooden tag.
"I'm writing a children's book." The words still feel strange in my mouth, like admitting to a dream I'm not quite sure I deserve. "About forest animals and friendship and..." I gesture vaguely at the stunning view outside. "All of this."
"How lovely." Evie's smile grows warmer. "The Maple Cabin should be perfect for you then. It's just past the activity center, with a lovely view of the wildlife trail."
An hour later, having changed into what I hope passes for hiking attire—leggings with tiny foxes printed on them, an oversized sweater, and the only boots I own that aren't strictly decorative—I stand at the trailhead with Rascal and my trusty notebook.
"Okay, buddy." I consult the trail map I grabbed from the welcome center. "We need to follow the blue blazes, whatever those are, and we'll end up at something called Eagle Point. Easy peasy."
Rascal tilts his head at me.
"Don't start. I've read three different hiking blogs this morning. Plus, we have snacks." I pat my bag. "And my phone has full bars. We're practically survivalists."
The trail starts out well-marked, winding through towering pines and patches of wildflowers that have me stopping every few feet to scribble notes. Rascal trots along happily, only occasionally getting tangled in his leash when particularly interesting leaves catch his attention.
It's when we reach the first fork that things get interesting.
"Blue blazes," I mutter, turning in a circle. "Blue blazes, blue blazes... Rascal, do you see any blue blazes?"
My dog is too busy investigating a fascinating clump of moss to offer an opinion.
I pull out my phone to check the trail map again, only to find the signal has apparently decided that two bars is more than enough for a city girl in the woods. The path to the left looks well-traveled, which seems promising. Or was it the right path we were supposed to take?
"Left," I decide firmly. "Adventure awaits to the left."
Twenty minutes and three more "definitely correct" turns later, I'm starting to think adventure might be overrated. The trees all look the same, the path has narrowed to barely more than a game trail, and I'm fairly certain we've passed that distinctive boulder at least twice.
"Okay, don't panic," I tell Rascal, who seems completely unbothered by our predicament. "This is like writing. Sometimes you have to get a little lost before you find the right story." I flip open my notebook, because if I'm going to behopelessly lost in the woods, I might as well get some material out of it. "Picture it. A plucky young rabbit, searching for adventure, who meets a wise old something."
A twig snaps behind me.
I whirl around, nearly tripping over Rascal's leash, to find myself face to face with what can only be described as a mountain man. Tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing enough flannel to supply a lumberjack convention, he regards me with an expression that suggests I'm the strangest thing he's seen in these woods. Given the amount of mud on his boots, he's probably seen a lot.
"Oh! Hello." I wave my notebook like a makeshift white flag. "I don't suppose you know where the blue blazes went?"
