We leave it far behind us along with a lot of the more populated areas—which makes me uneasy. This stranger spoke of saving us from danger, but is it possible we’re simply walking into a trap? At last, we reach what appears to be the opposite side of the township. I can see the towering wooden wall in the distance, but it isn’t our final destination. Instead, our guide takes us to a squat two-story building with minimal decoration. Painted characters on the front read: Red Myrtle Travelers’ Inn. With a quick gesture, we are beckoned around the back side of the building, to a nondescript door. After glancing around to make sure we’re alone, our guide pushes back her hood, and I am surprised to see she is our age and exceptionally pretty. She opens the door and starts to step through, pausing when she notices we don’t follow. It’s okay, she says. No one will hurt you here. Who are you? I ask. And what is this place?
