Anadella and the Forgotten Kingdom

Chapter 1
The Hiding Place

Once upon a time, deep in the forest just outside of town, stood a modest, mid-sized cabin. This cabin was simple consisting of only one bedroom and a loft. It was not a fancy residence, but it was where I grew up with my dear grandmother. The forest where we lived was always misty and foggy, except for two special days of the year. On those two days the thick fog would lift slightly, and I could see for miles.
Since I grew up in the forest, I lived adventurously. I loved to run through the woods, play along streams, and study the animals. And, I especially loved doing these things with my best friend, James. James was an odd fellow of average build with brown hair and Caucasian skin. He lived in the town of Bristol approximately thirty minutes away if traveling on horseback. James attended a very small school of about fifty children, typical for our region. Whenever he had opportunity, James would spend his evenings with me in the forest. We would often spend hours playing along the stream that ran by my cabin. The remainder of the evenings I devoted to my own studies and read books for school. My grandmother taught me at home.
Grandmother was loved by all of the townspeople and was known as a compassionate, soft-hearted, and brilliant woman. She was an inventor, and our house contained many of her inventions which assisted us in our daily living. In addition to these attributes, Grandmother was also very protective of me. She forbade me from straying too far from the cabin for fear of the thick fog and the dangerous animals within the forest.
Once I followed the stream that led north to a dirt road where carriages and horses crossed. This was a great curiosity to me, and not long after, James and I met early in the morning to explore beyond the road. We decided to follow the stream to the dirt road and beyond as this would be the easiest route to retrace our way home. Setting out early in the morning, we reached the crossing and then continued to the other side. A slight thrill flared up inside as I crossed the road. I am not sure if it was the excitement of the unexplored territory or the realization that Grandmother would certainly disapprove of this venture. Either way, this beautiful sunny day found me giddy with excitement. James glanced my way often, sharing in the joyous smile on my face. I had never been in the forest on the opposite side of the dirt road, and this was something that I had to do, a task that I had to fulfill. The woods were dangerous, but my sense of curiosity and intrigue would not allow me to turn back.
James and I continued to follow the stream deeper into the woods, and within an hour’s time, we noticed that the current was growing stronger and the roar of the water louder. As we proceeded downstream, the trees appeared to be separating and thinning, and the scenery before us seemed to be getting brighter. The stream was twice as wide here as it was at the start, and just a few hundred feet ahead, it led to a cliff side. As we approached the cliff, we noticed that the stream dropped over the edge into a waterfall. We couldn’t see the bottom because of the density of the spray, but it was still a beautiful sight as the water ran straight over the cliff. What a glorious moment it was! The scenery was breathtaking, and from that point on, this became our favorite place.
For several weekends James and I spent all of our free time at the waterfall. We enjoyed throwing rocks over the cliff into the unending, misty abyss. One day while watching the water falling, we realized that the raging, roaring noise faded to complete silence towards the bottom. Since we could not hear the water hit the bottom, we assumed that it must be a long ways down.
I will never forget one special day at the waterfall, one of those rare days when the fog lifted. James and I were playing, pushing one another and having fun flirting, when over the edge of the cliff, James noticed a bridge crossing the canyon. We figured that the bridge must lead to where the dirt road and the canyon meet, but neither of us had ever known of its existence until then. With curiosity stirred, I walked toward the outline of the bridge. James, more cautious than I, was hesitant to go too far, but as I followed the cliff side all the way to the bridge, he yelled for me to wait and ran to my side.
Arriving at the bridge, we were amazed at its length as we couldn’t see to the other side. I quickly climbed over the railing onto the bridge. James followed my lead, and we began to walk across the firm steel rails, peering down through the grates to the canyon below. It was difficult to tell how old the bridge was, but it showed deep wear and corrosion, and the rusty steel rivets were huge giving the impression that it was intended for something much heavier than horses and carriages.
About halfway across James glanced back to where we had begun and noticed a building on the hillside of the bridge tucked into the cliff and only partly visible. James has always loved structures such as tree forts and hideouts, and with this discovery, he turned shouting and ran back down the bridge towards the building. His actions did not make sense to me, but after all, he is a boy, and nothing boys do makes sense, so I followed him, running as well and shouting, “Wait up for me!”