Three girls.

They have no special skills – one is a skilled archer, another possesses knowledge of animals, and the third is a herbalist.

Three animals – animals with whom they are linked by Fate.

A rebellious prince of a great kingdom.

A diamond medallion, and an intrigue hatched by the court magician.

When the prince and the girls' paths intertwine, a great quest and adventure will begin, one that will change their lives.

The piercing cold woke her. She jumped to her feet and looked around. The dense circle of pine trees surrounding the clearing swayed in the cold northerly wind. She shuddered and pulled on a warmer woolen sweatshirt. Much better.

With chattering teeth, she lit a fire and enjoyed the warmth of the flames for about fifteen minutes. Winter was fast approaching. A flight of wild herons flew over the green treetops – probably one of the last to leave the Forest, heading south. Many animals – deer, does, wild boars, bears, wolves, hedgehogs, and moose – will be dozing off in their cozy, deep burrows, while others will move closer to human habitation.

“But I’ll be here. Always,” she muttered to herself, taking one last look at the Forest and rising. The fire was very pleasant, but one can’t sit by it forever. One must wash, and then find breakfast.

From a worn leather bag, she took a towel and a piece of tallow soap, made the bed in one motion, added a few logs to the fire, and went for a bath.

***

The water was icy. Macierzanka felt it as soon as she dipped her feet in the lake. Bracing herself, she submerged herself and, despite her internal tremors, swam two lengths of the lake. Once warm, she began rubbing her body with the rough soap and towel. She clenched her teeth so hard that two hard lumps appeared at the corners of her mouth. She'd been using this toilet since she was thirteen. At first, it took a lot of determination—Macierzanka smiled faintly as she recalled her wild squeals—but over time, she got used to it. Despite all the unpleasantness, such a cold bath had its advantages—she hadn't caught even the slightest cold in ages.

She dried herself with the same towel, dressed again in her shirt and trousers, knelt down, washed her face again, absently gazing at her reflection in the silvery surface of the lake, and returned to the camp. She laid the towel by the fire to dry, stowed the soap in her bag, and shouldered her homemade bow and quiver.

Macierzanka's weapons were worthy of any Hunter. The bow, carved from pale golden wood and decorated with oak leaves and acorns, had a stiff horsehair string. When she released an arrow, it made practically no whistle.

A quiver woven from reeds painted in various colors was the Archer's pride. The braid—gold, orange, and scarlet—seemed to burn with living fire. The arrows (only the snow-white fletchings protruded above the quiver) were made from the same wood as the bow. The heads—made of dark stone—were exceptionally sharp. One well-aimed shot was enough to kill prey or opponent.

The Archer tied her hair into a tight, yet fluffy, still-damp braid, adjusted her quiver, and, whistling, set off into the forest. She hadn't expected that today's hunt would be a turning point in her life.

***

As soon as she left the clearing, a typically autumnal forest came into view. Golden and red poplars shot upward, strutting like proud guardsmen. A reddish-brown oak tree dominated the forest path, and at its feet lay small piles of leaves. A frightened hedgehog was trying to climb under one of them. Knowing she was the cause of this panicked flight, the girl moved on. She was quieter now, aware that any unnecessary movement would cost her her intended prey.

As if to spite her, there were no partridges or pheasants nearby, and not a single, inconspicuous gray hare was in sight. The sleeping forest was beginning to irritate the girl with its silence. Apart from the terrified hedgehog, he hadn't seen a single creature today. It was as if something had scared them away...

She strung her bow and cautiously began to move deeper into the forest, straying from the path. She heard the faint snap of a twig. She spun around and released an arrow. The muffled, deathly moan of a dying animal rang out. The girl ran toward it, ignoring the noise she was making. She saw red stains of blood on a nearby fern. She followed the trail, the already visible blood that had covered the forest floor with tiny droplets. Close now...

She lifted a branch of the nearest poplar and froze.

On the grass, between two spruces, bent at an odd angle, motionless, lay the body of a fox.

The animal's eyes held a final look of fear, but the only trace of agony were its bared teeth, as if the fox had fought a fierce battle for its life before dying. The mother approached and looked into the predator's glassy eyes. She stroked the dead, soft ears and pulled the arrowhead from the body. Suddenly, she froze.

"Damn it," she cursed. "A female!"

Indeed, the dead animal turned out to be a fox, emaciated and haggard. The girl touched the creature's flank and felt ribs protruding beneath its red fur.

"I wonder if..."

She left the dead fox and walked away a few steps. If she knew anything about tracking, she'd entered fox territory. And that would mean...

"There it is!" she whispered triumphantly.

Amidst the green spruce and ferns that grew abundantly here, Macierzanka found exactly what she was looking for – a deep burrow, probably dug by the diligent paws of a fox's prey. A muffled squeal came from the hole, carefully scraped into the soft, brown earth. The girl approached the burrow. Inside, the orphans of the slain fox must have lived. They needed to be finished off; they wouldn't survive alone in the forest, and there was no point in letting them suffer. She reached out, slipping a leather glove over her hand. She reached into the burrow. She pulled out only one pup – exceptionally small and skinny. The fox sank its pin-sharp teeth into her glove. Macierzanka examined it carefully, holding the cub by the scruff of its neck. The cub was emaciated and dirty, its large, round, brown eyes wide with fear. The fox's head seemed smaller because of the size of its ears—they were the size of a bat. Its lush, golden-red tail was a rat-like tail with a white tip. Its active nose, eagerly sniffing all scents, was framed by long, white whiskers.

It was nothing like the foxes Macierzanka often saw hunting.

She released the pup and notched an arrow. The fox was so starved that in another day or two it would have died on its own, she reasoned. But something held her back. The fox wasn't hiding from the man in its den—it sat where it had been released, shivering from cold and hunger. What if...

Macierzanka lowered her bow and whispered,

"So what, little one?" The fox flattened its ears. "Come on, don't be afraid," she encouraged him in a low voice. "I think I've gone mad." "She muttered to herself. After a moment, however, she renewed her encouragement, allowing the cub to sniff her hand. The fox cub approached with a single leap and snatched the glove in its mouth. It began a mock fight with it, tossing it in the air and tugging at it.

"We're alike, you know?" smiled Macierzanka. Indeed, the girl had fiery red hair and brown eyes with a distant, velvety, golden gleam. Macierzanka's skin, like that of all redheads, was very fair, but her face, with its pleasant, full mouth and expressive eyebrows, was dotted with sunny freckles. Macierzanka did have something of the fox in her.

"I'll take you with me, you know?" she said to the little fox. The cub stopped abusing the glove, sat down, and cocked its head as if listening. "I'll take care of you. But first, we have to get something to eat."