《A World Forgotten》 Prolog: Late night stories ¡°Forever has been erased from the world of the living. It never was. So too has never vanished. It has forever been this way. ¡°As the world watches, the earth crumbles. The sun and the stars sigh their last breath and slip from reality. Panicked voices speak of fixes that can only be temporary as they sweat their water into the dirt. The final light clinging to their universe slows to match the movements of an old man left behind in the panic to escape. A glass box shields them from any route out of their horror; it¡¯s their only protection. ¡°Fear slides its grin across the clear glass, fogging the surface with its dark breath, and looks into the shivering masses'' deep eyes, daring them to take the step into nothing. Scared, the people turn from the outside and look in. They search for a route to escape from their world into a better one, a different one; any world but the one that now threatened their very existence. ¡°A woman, one single woman, finds a tunnel, an existence unlike any dream from any sleeping child. It shines with a mystery and a darkness, but more so, it shins with a hope. She cries for her friends to follow. ¡°And so they do. They create large waterfalls and small closets with secrets kept tucked in the back. There became forests, rivers, cities, stores, trains, and skies. As the woman and her friends create a world where all was possible, others saw. ¡°¡¯Your forever is alive,¡¯ the woman shouts to the scared billions. ¡®I have found a safe place, where you no longer have to worry for your very memory, for your very existence.¡¯ ¡°And the people rejoice. And the people praised her glory. And they trample her in their rush through the tunnel. ¡°¡¯No!¡¯ the friends scream as their new world fills with all.¡± For a moment, Gren¡¯s gaze continued its blank stare. She hardly noticed as the leaves swayed from the oak branches in the thicket surrounding her. She only vaguely remembered her older brother and mother in their beds covered in shadows cast by a dying fire. She swung her size seven sneakers over her father¡¯s and her own forgotten sleeping bags while absentmindedly rubbing her hand along her father¡¯s arm. Moss grew on the large rock they both sat on, but provided them with little comfort. The rock¡¯s thick fur did more to dampen Gren¡¯s jeans than it did to shield her from the rock¡¯s hard shell. She didn¡¯t notice though. Her father¡¯s stories always entranced her. Even when she couldn¡¯t quite understand what they meant, she would still cherish every word and turn them over in her head until she felt she truly knew their meaning. But the story her father had told her tonight never revealed itself to her. She couldn¡¯t make sense of it. No matter how many times she pondered it, no answer appeared. ¡°Jar?¡± Gren turned her gaze to her father, and then to her sleeping mother, afraid she would wake up and chastise her for calling him by his name. When Gren¡¯s eyes returned to Jar she found him staring back down at her. ¡°Something you need little one?¡± Jar¡¯s voice kept the same calm midtown it always did, just a little quitter to avoid waking his wife. This close, Gren could see specks in his brown iris. Dirty bangs hung almost long enough to cover the twinkle Gren imagined she could see coming from inside his pupil. As she wondered if that twinkle would ever go away, Jar smiled at her. ¡°Gren? You wanted to ask a question?¡± Gren snapped back to the moment and recalled the story he had told her. ¡°Your story doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡± She informed him. ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± Gren watched the stubble around his chin shift as he frowned at her. ¡°Why would the people be mean to the woman if she saved them?¡± ¡°They were scared, sweetie. People don¡¯t always react rationally, especially when they¡¯re frightened¡± Gren turned toward the two empty sleeping bags. Small stars spotted the smaller light blue one, including the built in pillow it had at its head, while the others tattered brown cover provided almost no cushion from the hard packed dirt and the weeds that pushed up through it. Whenever Gren had asked, Jar had always told her that he kept his old sleeping bag for sentimental reasons. He had traveled with it since long before her or her older brother had been born. Gren knew that he would sleep in that thing even with a winter storm blazing around them, all the while with a stubborn look on his face. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°It still doesn¡¯t make any sense. Those people are stupid.¡± Gren¡¯s mouth began to stretch open. ¡°Are you getting tired? Should we go to bed?¡± Gren stuffed the out coming yawn back down her throat. She looked back at her father. ¡°No. We need to stay up and read more. But not anymore of your weird stories. From a real book.¡± Gren scooted along the rock, closer to her father as the fire seemed to fade to a dim orange. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s not one of my stories. It¡¯s a legend I heard in the decayed loops. So simmer down little lady. We really do need to get to bed though, if your mother wakes up she¡¯ll be angry again.¡± ¡°Whenever we stay up and she¡¯s angry, she¡¯s always smiling too.¡± Gren looked down at her mother¡¯s steady breaths. Jar¡¯s lips twitched upward as he looked at his wife. ¡°She just wants to make sure you get your sleep. And I actually need mine too. Time for bed.¡± ¡°No, but wait.¡± Gren wined. Her older brother opened his eyes and turned in his sleeping bag to look at his sister. Gren smiled apologetically at him. ¡°Sorry Syth.¡± ¡°Yes, it¡¯s time for bed.¡± Jar nodded at Syth. ¡°Sorry if we woke you.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Syth rolled over to face away from the fire. Jar stepped up from the rock as Gren hopped off. He slipped under the tattered brown sleeping bag and rested his head on one hand while Gren climbed into hers, still thinking about the odd story her dad had decided to tell her tonight. It didn¡¯t make sense to her. She couldn¡¯t figure out which sun the story was talking about. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for a room to have a sun, even if you could only see it out of a window. The forest room they were in now had seen the sun set just three hours ago. It was impossible to tell which sun was the sun from the story. Gren watched as the coals in the fire died and left their family in a gripping darkness. Hearing her father shift in his sleeping bag gave Gren enough comfort that she hardly noticed it though; instead she was entranced by her own thoughts. She wondered why the people had been surrounded by glass. ¡°Had they build it themselves or had the rooms created it for them? Which room had they been in anyway? Perhaps,¡± She thought, ¡°it¡¯s a room in the decayed realm.¡± The fire gave a sharp cracking sound which only disturbed Gren¡¯s musings slightly. She couldn¡¯t even figure out who the people were or where they had gone. ¡°Was the story even real? How could fear fog a piece of glass? How could a fire crackle when it had just gone out?¡± Gren¡¯s eye lids had grown heavy as she slept, but shot open as soon as that thought crossed her mind. The fire gave no sign of life as Gren studied it. Her mind raced as she tried to figure what sound she had heard only moments before. She considered a cough, but the sound hadn¡¯t been hoarse enough. A popping joint would have been quieter. A stick would fit perfectly. It had been the snapping of a branch. Someone was stalking them from the shadows of the forest. She tried to calm herself. She had woken up suddenly but it must have simply been some animal stepping on a twig. It was more likely to be a harmless squirrel than anything else She heard a rustling from the cluster of Oaks nearest her and she twisted in her sleeping bag to look away from where the fire had been and toward where the sound had come from. As she squinted through the darkness and between the trunks, she couldn¡¯t see anything, let alone what had made the noise. The silence drew on and she began to feel afraid. As a chill ran down her body she looked up toward where her father laid, hoping to find comfort. Jar¡¯s eyes were wide awake as he looked at Gren and his lips tightened to a straight line. He moved his shoulder and pulled an arm out of the sleeping bag. Slowly he brought his hand to his face and his finger to his lips. AUTHOR''S NOTE This is my first time posting, so forgive me my errors. I appreciate feedback, even in small forms, and I am humble about the quality of my work. Chapter 1: A Farm Forgoten A wind materialized from a wall in the room and spread across the small farm inside. It waved the grain in a hypnotic rhythm around a young man who stood knee deep in it. Moving through the amber waves toward the corner of the room, Syth struggled with the breeze. For every time he flipped his dirt colored hair out of his eyes, the wind tossed it back, running through the individual strands. An arm, covered with freckles that were barely visible under a heavy tan, reached for the shaggy mess and tucked it behind an ear. He ran his tongue along his bottom row of teeth, something he did often as he worked under a noon sun. When he reached the corner and leaned against the walls painted with photo realistic mountain scenery, the air picked up again. His jaw, which had crept toward the same sharp and bony square of his father¡¯s the closer he got to eighteen, clenched as the wind undid his work, throwing hair from behind his ear into a deep brown eye. His sigh joined with the wind as it continued forward, swirling through the shifting golden heads of the grain. It blew out of the field and away from the young man. It spun across a small dirt path and past a doorway that stood against the middle of the wall. The door loomed seven feet high and five feet wide. As far as anyone could tell, it was made of solid, four inch deep stone, that¡¯s dark gray surface sucked the heat and light from the air, giving the wind a biting chill. The wind carried this chill to the next corner adjacent to the exasperated man. Here chickens squawked in their pen, flapping near useless wings against the gusts. A brown hen bobbed her head as she took cover from the cold in a small wooden cubby, reserved for where the chickens laid their eggs. Once inside, she settled into a small nest of hay and looked through the opening to see a white hen taking advantage of the gusts to clime the wire fencing, thrashing her feathers and hooking her claws between the hexagon holes. The white chicken continued her climb before reaching the flat wood roof of their pen. Hitting the roof, she fell through the air and landed in the dirt and filth covering the floor. She rolled onto her skinny legs before continuing to cluck along the edge of the fence. The wind left the chickens too, as it pushed across the room. It passed closer to the center of the farm, and rippled the water that submerged the rice plants. Patterns in the form of small waves hinted at the wind¡¯s shape and strength as it flew past the rice and to another corner of the room, opposite the grain field. Here it found an old log cabin, barely large enough to warrant the small attic tucked under a sloped roof. The breeze swept into the cabin through an open door and scooped up dust from a small pile directly at the entrance. It threw the dust across the room and into a small kitchen. A middle aged mother griped her straw broom tighter as she watched the dust flow back to where it had come from and away from the pile she had made on the floor. She jerked her hand away from the broom after a sharp sliver of it stabbed into her skin. It took her only the time to scowl at the broom to decide that sweeping was no longer necessary and could be done tomorrow. She paced toward the kitchen as another current blew her loose jeans around her bare feet and continued through the cabin. The wind turned into a calm breeze as it flew out a window facing a garden alongside the cabin. The garden stretched from the house to the last corner of the room and hid behind a row of corn that had almost grown high enough to level with the eave. Behind the corn, the garden took shelter from the blunt of the gusts. Littered with cucumbers, carrots, potatoes, and other odd, unorganized placements of vegetables, an unusually large pumpkin stood out as it grew in the corner of this hide away. On top of it, a thirteen year old girl lounged while reading a book in the light of a sun that beat down on her from an unreachable ceiling. Gren sat on the pumpkin with her legs kicked out to both sides, only careful enough to avoid damaging the plants. She flipped the page of one of her many adventure books, so entranced she didn¡¯t even notice the drool coming from her open mouth, or that her shoulder length golden hair stuck to it. As the wind dissipated in her hideout, a small amount of the dust flew through the window. ¡°Agk,¡± Gren flinched from the dust her mother had swept up but couldn¡¯t avoid it. She stuck out a tongue as her face crinkled. The dry taste of dust filled her small mouth as she rubbed her watering eyes. She swung back to her book, trying to force her blurry vision to the words on the page. She gave up on reading when the words wouldn¡¯t stop swimming before her. Instead she shifted her feet closer to her organic chair and pulled on her tan cargo shorts that had ridden up her legs. She flipped the hood of her brown sweat shirt over her head just in time to avoid another bit of dust. As her emerald eyes began to clear, she whipped a tear from her cheek along with the drool from her chin and huddled back over her book. Syth glanced at his younger sister as she curled closer to the page. From where he stood in the corner of the grain field, he could barely make out her energetic smile through the corn stalks. He had thought she was having dreams of their father again, but she seemed far too happy for that to have been the case. Syth took after his father enough to cause his mother sadness every time she saw him. He could almost claim to be taller than him and was already stronger. Traveling through rooms didn¡¯t give someone the same physique that working the land did. Syth had inherited Jar¡¯s closet and stretched the t-shirts that he had once worn. Even the occasional smile that cracked Syth¡¯s lips was almost mirror images of the grin Jar had loved showing off. Despite the golden brown eyes matching his fathers, these are what always reminded his mother that he was a different man. Jar had always been looking up and searching the rooms for anything to spike his curiosity. His gaze jumping back and forth from an interesting stick that looked like a lightning bolt to a button in a closet that had no conceivable purpose. He would stare down anyone he disagreed with while showing off crow¡¯s feet as he smiled at his family. Syth¡¯s eyes were always looking down and away. Even as he worked he focused only enough to see what his hands were doing and otherwise watched as his feet moved about their job. The only times those eyes seemed remotely alive were when he read one of his technical books. It didn¡¯t matter what it covered. Whether it taught about computers, spiders, or traditional cooking of chicken, he would scan through it as fast as he could only to go through a second time and focus on every word. Each time his mother interrupted him, she could see the light in his eyes die and his smile fade. She hated seeing him like that and avoided him, either letting him do his work or read his books. Both her children''s love of books came from their father but Syth seemed to be interested in nothing else. The mother, as much as she hated to admit it to herself, preferred Gren. The girl smiled even as someone interrupted her treasured reading time. Gren seemed to find everything amazing and fun to such an energetic extent that the mother sometimes wondered if one day she would go to the door and leave their farm out of sheer curiosity. That excitement is what got her father killed and what kept the mother awake at night. She hoped the girls books would keep her appeased. She knew that both her children had been affected by the death of her husband, but she wondered if it had hurt Gren less because of her young age. It had been four years since their father had been killed, but they all still remembered. The mother had just barely escaped with her children to find this room. They had almost kept going before deciding to try to make a life where they could be safe. They had refurbished the farm, and the occasional visitor traded them books, spices, and tools for rice and grain. ¡°Gren, can you come help me with dinner?¡± The mother had put her broom away and was looking through the cupboards in the cabin. ¡°Syth said he¡¯d do all my chores today.¡± Gren¡¯s attention wavered only long enough to form the sentence before jumping back into the world held within her hands. ¡°Do you want dinner or not?¡± ¡°Syth¡¯s a better cook, though.¡± Syth had returned to tending to the grain but looked up as Gren mentioned his name. ¡°Gren.¡± The mother clenched her throat and her words came out stern and harsh. ¡°Can I please finish the chapter?¡± ¡°I. Yeah, that¡¯s fine.¡± The mother said as Gren focused on getting as far into the next chapter as she could before her mother called her again. Syth looked away from his sister and around the farm to find nothing left for him to do. He laid down his tools and began striding toward the cabin to help with dinner after all, before he stopped. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. He wanted to try to experiment with the stone doorway anchored to the wall near him. The Wary Adventure: A Guide, his father¡¯s book, contained all known information about them and he wanted to try what he had learned. His father had taught him a lot about the world, but now only Jar¡¯s book could guide him. Jar had lost Syth¡¯s trust when he had led their family away from the middle world and into danger, but his book and knowledge was undeniable. Jar had been famous for writing the most widely trusted guide for the strange nature of their universe. It had been used as text books in schools to explain and show the nature of the rooms that all people lived in. He had had a small cabin near one of the larger cities. Fans would visit and the city council provided their family with all they needed in exchange for the added tourism. They had been happy then. Jar had retired from his exploration of the rooms in exchange for a comfortable family life. Then one day a woman had come. Syth could remember Jar talking to her as if an old friend. * * * ¡°Jarz. It¡¯s been a long time.¡± Jar had smiled and hugged the woman as she spoke and stepped through the open door and into their home. She wore matching black pants and jacket that looked expensive and sharp. The jacket had two buttons that pulled it around her gut and caused small creases to trail from her stomach to her back. The outfit seemed more official than anything even the city council would wear. The only personal touch that the clothes could be said to have was a white button up shirt¡¯s collar that popped above and rested lightly on top of the jacket that otherwise covered it. ¡°Sahn, I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re here. My wife¡¯s at the store with Gren right now, but she should be back soon. She''ll be even more surprised than I am.¡± Jar released the hug and waved a hand to guide the woman into the small living room. As the two walked to the couches, Jar said to Syth, ¡°Could you grab us something to drink?¡± After looking at the woman and out a window he added, ¡°Something cold.¡± Syth moved through an arched opening into the kitchen. Their family had been gifted one of the few houses connected to the electricity the room produced, and Syth could hear it running the fridge. By the time Syth returned with three glasses of water with ice and half a lemon at the bottom, Jar and the woman were past the pleasantries and deep in conversation. ¡°They didn¡¯t want me to come to you; it¡¯s dangerous in these loops. But I told them I had to give you this information. That we owed it to you.¡± The woman watched her hands twist around each other. ¡°And that¡¯s it?¡± Jar nodded to a folder that the woman had produced from a backpack at her feet. ¡°We unlocked a record room recently. I thought this might interest you.¡± ¡°What about the other records?¡± ¡°This is the only one they would allow me to take to you.¡± Sahn looked up to Jar¡¯s eyes. ¡°They¡¯re still not happy with you.¡± She paused slightly. ¡°Or her.¡± ¡°I¡¯m surprised they let you bring me anything.¡± He hesitated, and furrowed his brow. ¡°I¡¯m surprised they even told you they unlocked something. They¡¯d be even more secretive if it was a record room.¡± Sahn broke Jar¡¯s gaze as he continued, ¡°You stole it and ran, didn¡¯t you?¡± ¡°This was the only file I could grab. It¡¯s not like they would do anything with it anyway. They just sit on the information they have.¡± Jar grinned and Syth could hear a laugh catch his throat. ¡°They barely told me that silly children''s story. They¡¯re paranoid about anyone coming after them.¡± ¡°We have our reasons.¡± ¡°I suppose.¡± There was a small silence in the room. ¡°Thank you. I know what it means for you to leave your home. That couldn¡¯t have been easy. Or safe.¡± Sahn¡¯s crisp exterior broke and her face flooded with weariness while her eyes glistened. ¡°We¡¯re over now Jar. The elders won¡¯t ever let you back in and I¡¯m not leaving the tunnel ever again. I¡¯ve paid my debt.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t realize,¡± Jar¡¯s face had relaxed to the same sad look Sahn¡¯s had, ¡°that this was all over a debt. But no, you don¡¯t owe us anything. Thank you for bring this to us. I can get you a spare room for the night and some more supplies for your trip back.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t be staying. The file has the location, plug it in a navigator and you¡¯ll be fine.¡± Sahn set the folder on a small coffee table. ¡°Goodbye, my old friend.¡± * * * Jar had trusted this woman, had taken everyone, even an eight year old Gren, to chase some lead. His curiosity had destroyed their family¡¯s life. It had stranded them in the throwaway territories. But despite his mistakes, he knew more about this world than any before him. Syth wanted to believe in his father. Perhaps he couldn¡¯t agree with the decision to come here, but The Wary Adventure had been Jar¡¯s proudest achievement, and Syth knew it couldn¡¯t be wrong. He had seen people enter the doors but had only ever touched a door on that hazy night when they had been running from raiders. His hand had usually been held by his father while Gren was pulled along by their mother. Syth slipped on an old pair of worn gloves with a small hole in the right hand pinky before lightly touching the door with both hands. He could feel the warmth pulled from the glove and chill his fingers. He jerked them away. A breath of a laugh pushed through Syth¡¯s open mouth when nothing happened. He hadn¡¯t disappeared. The book had been right and the stone needed to feel the heat directly from a person¡¯s skin to work. Syth¡¯s hand found the stone again and pushed on it harder, seeing if it really wouldn¡¯t budge. ¡°No Syth!¡± The mother¡¯s voice cut across the farm as she stood in the door to the cabin. ¡°What are you doing?¡± ¡°Stop worrying, I read it in dad¡¯s book. The gloves stop it.¡± Syth rubbed his hands along the stone to demonstrate. ¡°We¡¯ll have to leave the farm, you¡¯ll ruin everything. Get away from it.¡± The mother attracted Gren¡¯s attention and the girl no longer remembered her book as she watched them. ¡°Listen, it¡¯s just a little experiment.¡± ¡°And what if it doesn¡¯t work? We don¡¯t have any coordinates, let alone a navigator. We¡¯ll die.¡± The mother¡¯s voice continued to jump through octaves. ¡°If it doesn¡¯t work then you¡¯re free to stay here. I¡¯m my own person and I¡¯ll deal with it. You don¡¯t have to worry about me.¡± Syth ran his tongue along his bottom row of teeth. ¡°But it¡¯ll work.¡± ¡°We stay together as a family. Now get away from that door.¡± The mother began to step toward Syth. ¡°We¡¯ve been on this farm for over 3 years. I¡¯ve read each book at least that many times,¡± Syth said, his voice and furrowed brow beginning to give away his anger, ¡°Maybe it wouldn¡¯t be so bad if we did-¡° ¡°Do you want to end up like your father?¡± Syth shrank back from his mother¡¯s words. Face scrunched and mouth open he leaned even closer to the doorway. In that moment, not even the wind seemed to rustle the still-as-statue grain or fluster the chickens to a squawk. Gren didn¡¯t breathe as she felt her muscles tighten. The moment lasted a lifetime, while their small family tried to process the hurt that had just been spoken. Gren began to realize this fight between her two loving family members involved deeper emotions than just a simple argument. Syth¡¯s emotions crept from shocked, back to angry. And the mother had just began to feel sorry before Syth yelled, ¡°I¡¯d rather that then spend the rest of my life in this room.¡± As he said this, Syth¡¯s pinky pressed through the hole in the glove and he felt the heat sucked from his entire being. Syth didn¡¯t have time for his eyes to flash open. He couldn¡¯t even manage a sharp gasp of surprise, before he vanished from the room. AUTHOR''S NOTE I''m not sure about the flash back. It doesn''t feel quite right to me. Neither does the description about how Syth feels towards his father. Tell me what you think. Thank you for taking the time to read and I hope you enjoyed it at least a little. Chapter 2: Alone Chapter: 2 Alone in the World ¡°No. Please no.¡± Gren watched as the face of her mother began to reflect that of monsters in her horror books. The mother continued to yell at the stone doorway. ¡°Stop, don¡¯t.¡± before turning her wide eyes and furrowed brows toward Gren. The look she gave her daughter was more frightening than any of the previous yelling. ¡°Gren, pack as much food as you can in all of our bags as fast as you can.¡± The mother began to hurry inside the cabin but stopped. ¡°Quickly, Gren. I need to make sure he¡¯s safe,¡± She said as she turned and scrambled for the stone doorway, throwing up the dust she had just been sweeping out of the cabin. ¡°And follow as soon as you can.¡± Upon reaching the doorway, she flung her hand against it, looking back at her little girl with a face forced into a faux reassuring smile. Gren''s limbs twitched as her mother disappeared just as suddenly as her brother. The farm grew larger around the lone child as silence settled in. Just a minute before her mother had been sweeping and Syth tended the grain all while she ignored them. Now, even the chickens sat quietly in their roosts, undisturbed as the wind quieted down. She shut the book, after throwing in a slip of paper as a bookmark, pulled herself up, and picked her way through the vegetable garden and toward the cabin. An odd feeling pressed onto Gren. She had been alone before, but it had never been as deep as this. When she had been alone, it was because her family was simply in the cabin or outside. Now, even as she pushed the corn stalks out of her way, she knew no one waited for her inside. ¡°Hello?¡± She called out, knowing no one would answer. She smiled at the unfamiliar feeling of being unheard. ¡°Hello, I¡¯m talking to you.¡± ¡°What do you want?¡± She expected Syth to say, but only a ghost of a memory answered her. She giggled slightly. ¡°I¡¯m king of the cabin,¡± Gren yelled as she walked toward the middle of the room with a chest as full of air as her little lungs could hold. She swung her arm and pointed at the grain field. ¡°You must bow your heads to me or I shall cut them off and eat them, raw.¡± A wind pushed against the grain and bent them forward as it flung the hood from her head. Gren¡¯s chest forgot its pose as she began laughing. ¡°Perfect timing.¡± Her ears rose as she smiled and turned toward the cabin. ¡°Syth, I was just saying ¨C,¡± she cut off when she remembered there was no one to explain her joke to. A thought passed through Gren that she could probably just start reading and not pack. But she disregarded that, her mother would be angry. She needed to follow her family. As she entered the cabin, she grabbed two backpacks, one a dark blue with two large zipper pockets, and another, a faded tan, that held its one opening closed with straps. In the tan backpack she began throwing in canned food from one of the various shelves on the wall opposite the door. She added some of the recently picked tomatoes, carrots, and corn. She turned to an old wood stove and reached above for the spices. When the tan bag bulged and the straps barely kept it contained, Gren grabbed the blue pack. In this she began throwing in various clothes, some of hers, her mother¡¯s, and Syth¡¯s. She pulled her hoodie off and stuffed it in. After filling the smaller front pocket she moved on to fill the larger back space with as many of the paper back adventure books as could fit. She almost managed to force the resentful zipper closed before she realized that she hadn¡¯t packed any of Syth¡¯s books. She ran over to his side of the cabin and grabbed the most recent book on top of the pile. It couldn¡¯t have been further from professionally made if Gren herself had made it; rather it claimed plain brown leather, cut sloppily into a square, as its cover. The pages sewn into the book ranged from pure white, to an odd dirty blue. It stopped her for a moment. Her father¡¯s book had been copied over a thousand times, but they had always kept the original. ¡°Are there any other books you want?¡± She turned to look for Syth, fully expecting him to be there. She was startled to remember he wasn¡¯t. She reminded herself not to do that again. After quick pondering she switched this book with one of her adventure books already in the bag. It hadn¡¯t been one of her favorites and she didn¡¯t mind leaving it behind, not too much at least. Throwing the blue backpack on her back and caring the other in her left hand, she walked over to the chicken coup. She couldn¡¯t leave her loud friends behind to starve. She had even named them. ¡°Okay,¡± Gren looked at the white one. ¡°Snow, you go first. You¡¯re the brave one.¡± Gren held out her hand and both chickens approached her looking for feed. ¡°Up you go.¡± She said as she lifted the white hen in her hand. The chicken gave a mild, disgruntled squawk but seemed otherwise content, having long since become used to Gren¡¯s manhandling. She took the hen to the doorway and gave her a slight toss in its direction. The chicken hollered at this sudden betrayal and flapped her wings harder then she had when she had been climbing the fence earlier that day. They made no difference though, once she brushed against the door. One moment she was there, and the next she wasn¡¯t. ¡°Now, Little Chew Chew, don¡¯t worry. I won¡¯t do the same thing to you.¡± Gren made a swiping motion to the remaining brown hen who had been loitering around the open entrance to the coup, wondering if she should leave. Upon seeing Gren lunge forward Little Chew Chew bolted out. Gren dropped the bag and went for the chicken as fast as she could. She just managed to scoop up the screaming hen with both her hands before she had really managed to take off. After snatching the bag she had dropped, Gren threw the little brown chicken toward the gate a bit more roughly than she had with Snow. After Gren became more alone than she had ever been before, she approached the door herself. As her arm rose toward the stone a realization hit her. She wouldn¡¯t be coming back to her farm. It tugged at her for a moment; she didn¡¯t really want to leave. She just wanted to return to her perfect pumpkin reading spot and take advantage of the chore free day her brother had given her. She knew that these past years had been the best in her life. The memories of them on the run were hazy, even more so the ones before her father had died, but she could remember bits. She remembered being hungry. She remembered being scared of the unknown that waited in each room and the evil strangers you could find inside of them. She remembered being too tired to get up. Only her stomach and mother¡¯s constant urging kept her going. The only good memories were from their house in the city and her father¡¯s late night readings. When they had gotten to the farm, it didn¡¯t seem like it would last. Gren woke up every morning thinking they were going to have to leave again. It took a month before it started to seem real and even longer for the farm to start producing enough food for them to trade to the occasional traveler. The room supplied a stream of clear water for them along with all the dirt, seeds, and sunshine they needed to survive. The cabin had been old and filled with dust, so much so that she had been expecting spider webs to attack her face as soon as she walked through the door. But there were none. This room didn¡¯t have any spiders. They had slowly built their life in that cabin, almost a complete family. The food had been filling. And her brother had always excelled at making her laugh, even when her eyes were dripping with exhaustion. They discussed the books they read; even though they had different taste they still ended up reading from each others stashes. She could remember, about a year ago, she had been about to trade a book of hers with another one from a traveler. Syth had come running out of the cabin screaming for her to stop so earnestly that she began to fear something had gone seriously wrong. When he reached her he admitted he just hadn¡¯t finished reading the book yet, and didn¡¯t want her to trade it. Just today he had been worried about her and offered to do her chores. She had been tired after sneaking out and reading a book by moonlight. At night, once she could hear everyone¡¯s steady, deep breaths from under their covers, it was common for it to become too appealing for her to resist a good chapter or two. Even if he knew that, he would more likely laugh than be angry at her. She didn¡¯t want to leave that caring, happy life behind her in exchange for the vague and dark one of her dreams. But her memories hadn¡¯t been made alone. It was her brother that made her smile. It was her mother that managed the farm. Even if he was no longer here, it had been her father who had read to her every night. She loved them all, far more than a farm. She pushed her hesitant hand from its spot hovering above the surface of the doorway, and felt the cold stone suck the heat from her. She knew it must have been just as immediate as her mother and brother, but to her everything slowed. The wind stilled against her frozen face, and the sound of her gasp stretched into a constant, steady tone. She saw the grain bend into a permanent bow as the water¡¯s ripples froze in place. She watched her farm slow and blend in with the mountains plastered on the walls of the room. As she captured a mental picture of her home, she wondered if she would ever get a chance to see it again. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. * * * The room she appeared in was far too abstract and strange for her to categorize it. A mist that could just as easily have been darkness, hung over the entire area, making it impossible to see any further than a single grain field over. Not that there was anything to see. With the exception of the floor, she was drowning in the dark. It gave a feeling of supreme vastness, the same feeling that a person gets from below their feet after being stranded in a deep and wide ocean. It made her chest tighten and suffocated her with its feeling of grandeur. Gren noticed the darkness first, but it couldn¡¯t hold her attention. The floor flashed against the black, disorientating Gren enough that she nearly fell. Wave after wave of small blue flames in the millions rushed forward. They flickered and formed in a pattern of squares and zigzags that splashed against each other and rippled across the floor. Diamonds and circles alike were created in its chaos and gone just as soon as the fire faded into submission. Gren looked below her and saw fire feeling along the sides of her shoes. They had startled her, but now only captivated her. Their tips waving in the air before dipping back down into the floor. She bent her knees and sat on her heals, reaching to the dancing fire. She managed to touch the iron floor and feel the small holes drilled within before a wave of blue passed her. Under her hand, the flames popped out from their hiding places and moved across her fingertips. The whole right side of Gren¡¯s body jerked back. She stood up and took two steps away from where she had been burnt, while putting her fingers in her mouth. As she shot an angry look at the flames, she noticed something she hadn¡¯t before. Music played from the darkness, echoing all around. The music wasn''t like anything she had heard before, composed of high pitched shrills and odd noises that could barely be said to coincide. As it vibrated and built to higher notes, the floor seemed to follow it and dance along to the music. The popping and scratching sounds moved in a rhythm and conducted for the floor. As it sent out high electric beats, so did the floor try to imitate with waves of deep blue sparks that disappeared as soon as the music stopped, waiting for the next tone. A low boom sounded through the music in a slow beat and the floor responded in kind. Across Gren¡¯s limited field of vision, she could see towers of flame spring up taller than she was. There colors of red and yellow mixed together to sprout light in all directions. As the music and deep sounds rippled the air over and over, Gren was assaulted with flash after flash from the light of the towers. Gren looked down and away from the light. Her feet slid slightly as she shifted her weight. She blinked away an after image to see a black smudge across the floor. It was rubber. The floor was melting her shoes. She began to look around for a place to get away. She needed a platform off of the fire or a door out of this room. As she swung her head, she saw nothing but the dark and the flames that illuminated it. Her breath quickened as she thought. There was nothing to run to. She dreaded to think what would happen if one of those large fires engulfed her instead of the dark. But she couldn¡¯t help herself. ¡°Caaaa!¡± A sharp cry pierced through the music and into Gren¡¯s ears. Gren turned her head and saw a hen flapping wildly and scrambling around in a circle as fast as her little legs could throw her. The chicken crowed as she did her utmost to put out the fire that enveloping her brown feathers. The hen Chew Chew''s desperate flailing managed to blow out the flames on her wings and extinguish herself. She ran off into the darkness, still crying out for help, looking for a shelter from the oven she had been tossed into. By the time the cries of the chicken faded from the surrounding black, Gren had managed to recognize a pile of what looked like charcoal. The braver of the two hens was recognizable only through the process of elimination, as her feathers had no trace of white left. Seeing the chickens started an adrenaline reaction. Gren¡¯s heart jumped and energy filled her limbs. Her legs pushed off, slipping against the liquid rubber as she lurched forward. She tossed the bag she had been carrying in her hand to the side to burn. Her only focus was making it out of the room. A tower of flame burst up from her right and she twisted left to avoid it. She could feel the heat rolling off of it onto the side of her face and the right side of her body. She yelled as she felt a stinging pain all across her arm and the rest of her seemed to become cold. It was when her yell came out broken and mangled that she realized she was crying, weeping as she ran, causing her to swerve. Silently, she forced down panic and sobs and focused her fear into her run. She ran faster than she had ever realized she could. Pillars of flame flashed as she sped across the landscape. Strong beats shook the air around her even more than the jolts as she hit the ground. Each time the music dropped low, the room light up as mountains of fire reached for the darkness above them. Some moments the burning yellow tendrils were far enough away that Gren could begin to feel hope, only to have one appear close enough to warm the vibrating air around her. This continued until Gren truly believed she would die. As fire burned around her and her shoes slipped along the silver floor, she considered giving up. Her right arm felt hot and was burning more than even her lungs as they gasped wildly for the crisp oxygen. She didn¡¯t think making it was possible. Knowing that a doorway could come out of the darkness at any point was the only thing that could keep her going. But as she ran, that hope withered in the face of the massive flames the rose around her. Which is why, when it finally did appear, it took a moment for her to believe it was real. A stone doorway appeared from the darkness off slightly to Gren¡¯s left. She turned for it, already reaching her hand out, relived that she had made it. She leaned her weight onto her left leg as she turned, and the rubber on her shoe slid. Gren didn¡¯t have time to catch herself before her face slammed against the floor. The flames spread across her cheek and licked at her eyelid, trying to find a way inside. It invaded her ear and the smell of burnt hair invaded her nostrils. Gren panicked and her breath caught in her throat as she scrambled to get away from the heat. Her previous resolve crumbled as the skin of her cheek stung. She screamed out and twisted her back to bring her face up, like a worm feeling the air. She reached her hands out, trying to push herself back to her feet. Her hands seared as she touched the floor and she quickly pulled them away, but she still needed to find a way up. She came to rest on her forearms which then began to feel the heat of the iron. A tear fell from her reddened cheek and evaporated upon the floor as she put her hands back on the hot iron. A tower of flame shot up in front of her, but she couldn¡¯t notice. Her hands were on fire as she pushed her chest off the ground. She screamed as she moved her legs beneath her and could feel the burnt skin stretch and tear along the knee. She pushed off the ground with her foot and continued to the door, wanting only to touch its cool stone. Her legs felt numb as her fingers stung and stretched toward the square door. As the heat was sucked from her burnt fingertips, she heard the music tempo drop till it rang a constant pitch. The towers of flame slowed in their act of licking the darkness shrouding the room, and a sickly sweet smell filled Gren''s nostrils before she vanished from the room. * * * The next room came as a relief. It only just covered 5 meters, enough to allow a single, great red oak to sprout up and push against the mossy walls. Sunlight barely pushed through, tenting the soft dirt and Gren¡¯s shaking hands with the red color of the veiny leaves. A single stone doorway was the only exit on the opposite side of the room, but was ignored as the harsh bark of the trunk became Gren¡¯s backrest. Grass heavy with dew, tore from its place in the soft ground as Gren ripped it out. With shaking hands, she rubbed it softly across her forearm hoping to cool it, weeping to herself as the grass stung her wounds. She just wanted it to stop burning. She could still feel heat radiating from her hands and face, even as she brought grass up to her left eye, which she had yet to open. She lowered herself onto the ground, pressing her face against the wet grass that lingered there. Her fingers weaving between the blades as she faded away, thinking only of how much she wanted this all to end. AUTHOR''S NOTES Not much to say other than poor Gren. And poor little Chew Chew. That room was no fun at all. Chapter 3: Thirst Chapter: 3 Thirst Gren wasn¡¯t sure if the room she was in stayed sunny all day or if she had slept through the night. She felt tired as she pushed herself up from the grass into a sitting position. Her eyes dropped and for a moment she thought she might fall back down. But she steadied herself against the oak and managed to find her balance again. As she opened her eyes to the bright room, she saw the walls colored a camo-green and red that matched the grass and the tree. Her burnt eye stung and a worry crept over her. She moved a hand over her right eye and laughed with relief when she could see perfectly from her left. Her laughter faded as her view fell upon her legs. They glinted in the sun and looked like they had been wrapped in a thin layer of water. It would have reminded her of some of the legs on the plastic dolls she had seen before, if not for their splotchy appearance. As she reached to touch the spotted pink, red, and white skin, she could see blisters starting to push up and form along the front of her leg. She felt the skin lightly and some of the pain began to return to her. It hadn¡¯t ever really left; she had just been too tired to notice. As she pushed on the tender skin she noticed the difference in size between her hand and her legs. The burns had caused her calves to swell unbelievably. The looked almost twice the size they had been originally. As she pulled her hand away, Gren noticed the skin she had pressed on was paper white. She watched as it continued to stay white. Worry began to infect her. Skin wasn¡¯t supposed to look like that. It wasn¡¯t supposed to stay white and look glossy. ¡°Syth?¡± Gren voice caught in her throat before she could even remember that Syth wasn¡¯t with her. Thirst overtook her as she noticed her dry throat. ¡°Water, please.¡± She was slowly waking up and her senses coming with it. Her legs caused most of the pain, but her arms and face also stung as Gren became aware of them. ¡°It hurts.¡± Gren looked around her, face blank and eyes drooping. ¡°Please.¡± There was nothing but the walls, the tree, and the grass to help her. Then in her haze she remembered the backpack. She leaned forward and began the process of removing it from her back. She loosened the straps and twisted her right arm through, careful not to touch the strap or anything else with her hands or her forearms. The later ended up being impossible. A combination of a groan and a whine escaped from Gren as she twisted her arm through the strap. Once she had the pack around one shoulder she paused, focusing on trying to breathe as pain pricked her arm. After a short moment Gren grabbed the handle of the pack, deciding that, despite the burns on her hand, it would be best to lift it up over her left arm. Once she pulled it off she laid it on the ground beside her. She was looking for food or water, but as she open the zippers she found only books and clothes. Everything she needed was in the other backpack she had thrown to the flames. Gren couldn¡¯t seem to think as she exhausted her breath and leaned against a tree. Her thoughts strayed from their path as she considered what she needed. Syth would be difficult to find if not impossible. In the short term what she needed was to survive. She needed to find a safe shelter to heal. Most of all she needed water. The only way to find that was forward. Gren struggled to returned the pack to it''s place on her shoulders and climbed her way up the tree and into a standing position. She rubbed the burnt off rubber from her shoes against the grass as she shuffled to the opposite side of the tree. She took the smallest and least offensive steps she could manage while her skin pulled and begged for her to stop these movements. She let go of the tree as she pushed toward the only doorway in the room. Her steps between the tree and the door were few, but caused the pain and loneliness push up to a point inside her. She didn''t want to face whatever came after this door. She wanted to lay down and sleep more, but a desert dry mouth and lips that felt they might bleed if stretched too far urged her forth. As she brought herself closer to the door she felt her mouth tighten and her lungs involuntarily began to breath in quick, short gasps. Before she could think too much further, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the cool stone. The water clouding her eyes fell and froze against her cheek as a room that had seemed still, became truly stuck in time. Gren could no longer hear her panicked breaths or see the grass crumble beneath her feet. Everything she could see became a real life photo. A photo of swollen, glossy legs standing on shoes that barely held together over pretty green grass. * * * She should have been happy. There was no danger. There were no bandits or wild animals waiting to pounce and feed upon her. But dread filled her mind and limbs despite the apparent safety. A hallway lay before her, one that she couldn''t see an end to, and the white marble walls would provide little comfort for however long of a walk this would be. The marble that surrounded her was penetrated only by florescent lights shining far too brightly every meter along the ceiling. They washed out any trace of color or shading from the marble until Gren could barely make out that it was a hallway and not just a white screen before her. Gren squinted her eyes. She wanted to slump to the floor and allow herself the despair she had been holding at bay, but bending her knees sounded more painful than resting sounded pleasant. So instead she stood there, swaying slightly against the pressure of her own fatigue. Her head felt light and her brain felt like it was hovering above and resting against the ceiling. Black specks grew into her vision and invaded her sight, tell she couldn''t see anything else. The only confirmation to her that she was even still standing was the hand she held up to the wall. Gren focused on breathing, as it was the only thing she really could do. Her chest rose and fell, rose and fell; on the third fall her vision began to return. When she regained her senses she began the trek forward. Her feet slid slightly and she was very nearly hugging the wall, but she moved. A foot at a time. She began to move faster until she had become confident enough in her own feet to let go of the wall and speed up to a full walking pace. She still felt pain and it made it hard for her to think, but moving around helped her start to feel like her normal self. ¡°I can do this.¡± Gren thought to herself. ¡°I''m strong enough to survive.¡± She looked over her shoulder to see the small marble wall she had started at was discouragingly close. ¡°I can do this.¡± The words burned her throat as they came out aloud. She turned back and continued her slow pace forward. * * * The end couldn''t have come any sooner. It was hard for Gren to tell time but she estimated that it might have been an hour. She could barely stand and all she could think about was cool water running through her mouth and into her stomach, filling her with life. It consumed her mind to such a degree that she didn''t notice she had made it through until sunlight hit her face and sharp forest air filled her lungs. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. After a blink and a small shake of her head, she looked at her surroundings. The hallway had emerged from a textured sky-blue wall into a small gap between massive jungle trees that twisted together in some kind of long lived dance. There trunks twirled and fought their way from the ground to the thick canopy above, twisting against each other, forcing their many branches to mingle and push for a spot in the air. Making it seem as if the trees blended together and fused, so that Gren couldn''t tell which leaves belonged to which tree. A chirping of birds interrupted the beautiful sight before her. They whistled and spun through the entanglement of threes as if dancing to their own tune. Before Gren could finish her thought of catching the birds to eat, she also registered the sound of running water. Her limbs lightened and the pain from the burns faded to an echo. She started toward the sound and stumbled across roots that rose from the ground. She almost laughed and felt like she might just float above them. ¡°Water. There''s water.¡± were the only thoughts that could fit in Gren''s brain. It didn''t matter what had happened before or what would happen after, in that moment she was the happiest girl in all of existence. Gren let out a high pitched squeal before finding herself upside down and completely submerged. The river had come sooner then she expected and seemed to cut deeply into the land. She struggled to right herself but calmed when her feet found the ground. The river was moving slowly and after a initial sting of torment, helped to sooth the sores on her legs and arms. Looking around she saw herself surrounded by a low wall of dirt. Gren dipped her lips beneath the surface of the clear water and watched her feet standing upon the rocks. She pulled as much liquid into her mouth as she could hold and gulped it down. She took another and another; so much went down her throat that Gren lost track of how many times she swallowed. In the end she felt she would drown and her stomach would explode. Pulling her face from the river, Gren wadded to the bank and leaned against the dirt and the roots that rested there. They made an effective wall that would be difficult to get out of, but at the moment she couldn''t think about that. Gren felt nauseous. Her stomach gave a growl before seaming to barrel roll inside of her body. Water spewed forth from her mouth while she simultaneously cried out. Bout after bout, buckets of water seemed to come out of Gren, each time there was just enough of a pause for her to grab half a lung full of air before continuing. The sudden and violent reaction forced tears from her eyes. She was facing down stream and the contents of her previous binging washed away from her. Her body shuddered as she ran out of water and Gren stood there gagging with a sharp acidic taste lingering between her teeth. She put her mouth to the river again but this time she swished the water from cheek to cheek. After spiting out most of the bitter taste. she began to drink, slowly this time. She paused after each sip to catch her breath and feel the water settle in her stomach. Once she finished, she was forced to pull several roots from the bank in an effort to climb out. By the time she had, dirt and water mixed to create a mud tapestry on the whole front of her shirt. Gren clenched her teeth, both against the returning pain and to stop them from chattering. She turned her head from side to side, wondering where to go. ¡°Syth.¡± Her voice came out clearer this time as she though of her brother. If he had come through the same door then there might be tracks. He might even be close enough to hear her. ¡°Syth.¡± Gren called as loud as her tired throat would let her while she moved around trees toward the direction the door had been, but it wasn''t there anymore. Or at least it wasn''t where she thought it had been. She turned in a circle before looking above her, seeing if she could spot the wall through the trees, but any blue she manged to spot past the branches was indistinguishable from the normal sky. ¡°Where had the sun been when I first came in?¡± Gren thought while trying to ignore her shivering and stinging limbs. ¡°It was opposite me so I should move away from the sun to get back to the wall.¡± She took her own advice and began pushing through the brush in the direction away from where she could make out the light. After several minutes of walking and looking back to check the sun Gren decided she had been wrong. She tried going a little more to the right to find the wall. After an even longer walk she decided she was lost. She had no idea if the wall was a couple meters away or if it was a hundred. She wanted to make a fire or something to warm her and dry off her clothes, but she had no idea how she would. She thought about ripping off the pages from books that had no print on them, but again she had no idea how she would get a spark. She eventually settled on finding a sunny clearing or shelter for what she suspected to be the coming night. As the light aimed and struggled to glow through the leaves, Gren pushed her way forward. She wrapped her arms around each other and moved her shoulders closer together. Nothing to improve her situation appeared. All that surrounded her were tall trees that didn''t seem to change. Strange sounds flew between the trees. Wild hoots accompanied Gren as she nearly tripped on a root and had to pick her way across the landscape. She couldn''t tell if the ground had become infected with even more hazards or if she just could no longer see where to put her feet. ¡°Ahhuh,¡± Gren sputtered as she grabbed the bark on a tree to save her self from a fall. The bark scraped against her still sensitive skin and a sharp pain lingered there. She looked around her. Her shoulder rested against the tree that had saved her and she squinted in the darkness trying to decide what to do. A loud hoot cut into Gren''s mind and caused her to jump straight and look above her. ¡°Most animals are afraid of humans, ¡°she reminded herself, ¡°just an owl¡± but she had no idea what kind of animals were in this room or if they fit into the category of most. The fact that she was both small and wounded didn''t give her much hope either. She decided to stop for the night. It was impossible to see clearly as damp clothes clung to her. There was no point in wasting energy on getting lost. Gren found herself sitting slumped against a tree for the second time that day. A tide of fuzz seemed to sweep through and fill her head. She knew she hadn''t been awake for long but somehow sleep managed to pull her below again. AUTHOR''S NOTE I appreciate any and all suggestions. This is still a work in progress and I hope to have the next chapter done soon. Chapter 4: Recover Chapter 4: Recover Gren woke suddenly as her head whipped to her left. It took a few seconds for her thoughts to follow. There had been a splash but she couldn''t see anything through the dark of night. ¡°Syth?¡± She called out before she thought, ¡°It had sounded just like him cannon balling as kids or was that just part of a dream?¡± Gren used the back of her wrists to rub her eyes, hoping to avoid exciting any of her burns as she teetered into a standing position. A second splash sounded. ¡°Hello?¡± A pause rang through the air and stillness settled around her. She couldn''t tell how far the splash had been but the river must be near. ¡°I need he-¡± Again she heard the sound of her brother''s cannon ball only this time five in a row. Before she had time to process, the river sang with activity and the forest that had been at peace just a moment before now sounded off like a mad drummer. Gren wasn''t the only one to hear this. Rabbits and a family of fat rodents scrambled past her in an effort to run from the sound of large carnivores jumping in the river, one after another. ¡°Oh no. No no¡± Gren could hear her own panicked cries mixed with those of the red foxes fleeing their burrows. Rabbits squealed and the small foxes screeched, spurred forth in the desperate run from low growls and barks that could be heard coming near the river bank. She spun and launched herself in the opposite direction of these unknown monsters, as more splashed in the river she could only imagine that the first to go in were now clawing their way out. She had no idea how long it would take for them to cross, but when they did she suspected they would be a lot faster than she was. Her eyes scanned the ground for dangers as more critters sped past her. She looked one step ahead and manged to slow her panicked steps just enough to allow her time to find balance for each foot as it found a clear patch of dirt or a root large enough to land on. Her burns were temporarily forgotten as she grabbed trees for both balance and to push herself forward. Howls broke down some of her resolve as Gren flew past trees, now counting only on her own momentum for balance. She heard growls from behind, both to the left and to the right. They were after her and were catching up much faster then Gren had feared. She heard their running and panting as some began to surround her. A squirrel dashed out from behind her and darted up a tree. ¡°There.¡± Gren clung to the one hope she had left and jumped up to the same tree the squirrel had jumped to. Surprised by the company, the small creature cried out and darted even faster up the bark as the little girl bloodied her knees doing the best she could to follow. Although slower than the critter, Gren managed to pull herself through branches to half-way up the tree before looking down. Moon light shown softly through the canopy above and gave her brief glimpses of silver fur shifting and pacing around the shadow of the tree. Growls caught in their throat as pants misted the air in front of the large wolf creatures. None of them looked up enough for her to see their eyes, but instead sniffed and drooled along the ground beneath the tree. Gren sat there staring as the wolves parted for one with white hair covering it''s gizzly-sized body. It paced forward to the trunk of the tree before parting his jaws to let a mess of red fur that was caked with an even darker crimson fall to the groung. The alpha rose it''s head from the previously claimed fox carcass to sniff the bark that had damaged Gren''s knees. A moment passed before it looked up into her with yellow eyes. It''s tongue flicked past it''s fangs and shook drops of fox from the whiskers around it''s snarling mouth. A bubbling came from it''s throat before a howl erupted forth. The trees shook as all the wolves around him joined in, as if trying to shake their meal from the tree''s grasp. Shivering hands tightened around the branch above. The white wolf slowly sat back on it''s haunches before launching itself up, griping it''s claws around the trunk. ¡°Oh please no. I''m sorry.¡± The wolf seemed drawn on by Gren''s screams and clawed upwards inch by inch. ¡°Please. Help me.¡± Tired tears rolled down a burnt cheek as she watched death approach. Exhausted limbs struggled to lift her as Gren climbed further away from her tormentor. Blood and tears fell on the Alpha''s face as it struggled past thick branches and chased behind the girl. Other wolves were attempting but failing to follow suit. They fell and were pushed aside by their brothers, all eager to devour the biggest prey they had seen in some time. Branches scraped skin as Gren broke through the canopy above, twisting herself through the thick branches. She could hear the pants and growls of the alpha right behind her, but she didn''t dare to look. A pair of blue birds took flight, silhouetted against the moon. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Gren crawled across the forest''s roof, finding footholds on larger branches and grabbing fistfuls of leaves. Once the growls turned to struggled breaths far behind her, she looked back to see the alpha. He was struggling to follow as his rear paws kept breaking through the delicate ground and trying to pull him back to earth. One last growl ripped through his throat and his eyes glinted yellow against the moon before he slipped through. A soft thud and whimper could be heard, as Gren turned and tiptoed from branch to branch toward the only thing she could see. The crescent moon shown on Gren''s weary face and bloodied clothes as she made her way across rolling hills of leafy green forest tops. * * * ¡°I''m so proud of you.¡± Jar kissed Gren''s cheek and the scars were gone. ¡°You were so very brave.¡± He took her hands and kissed them lightly. The pin pricks of pain faded away. ¡°You are stronger than you know.¡± He took her foot, with legs bleeding and tired, and pecked them one by one lightly. ¡°My strong, brave, sweet little one. I love you with all my heart.¡± ¡°I always loved this.¡± Gren thought as she understood that she was at the fair with her family. ¡°Yes syth?¡± The man turned his head away from the girl. ¡°I can''t quite hear you.¡± ¡°I said I''m sorry.¡± The young man balled his hands, while he stared at his father¡¯s shoes. ¡°Though It wasn''t really my fault. I told you you didn''t have to leave.¡± Gren looked for her mother to say something to her brother, but as she found her, her face only stared blankly at Gren before the corner of her lips were dragged upwards, as if by fish hooks. ¡°Marian, do you like my new hat?¡± Jar turned to his wife to show her an axe lodged in the back of his head. ¡°Fair''s closed.¡± The red and orange jumpsuit bounced on the ticket man as he ran toward the exit. ¡°Fair is now closed.¡± Gren looked toward her mother only to see her head burning in flames. A scream came from Gren as the woman reached red hot hands out to her daughter. * * * Gren''s face was on fire again. Her eyelids rose to a shining sun before she swung her face away for protection. Heavy breathing slowed and eventually she squinted around her. Olive leaves swayed like grass in a lazy wind. Birds popped their heads from the branches, taking off and landing in an unknown pattern. Gren picked herself up from a crevice in a tree that she couldn''t remember having fallen asleep in. With a lowered head, she peeked behind her lids, only seeing a constant light blue behind a sea of green. A small foot snuck it''s way onto a thick branch. Gren''s sneakers gripped bark as the branch bent into shadow. Her tentative speed quickened and she started off toward the highest point in the canopy. The branches bent for her as they did for the wind, which even now helped to cool her wounds. Trees swayed as a gust blew between them and tried to knock the little queen from her hill right as she reached it. Scrapped and swollen hands swung and unzipped a small blue backpack and began to riffle through it. Gren quickly found her brown sweat shirt and carefully wrapped it around herself just as another bought of wind flew by. Gren threw up her hood to conceal her face. The whole of the room stretched out before Gren. For as far as her eyes could see under the shade of her hood, foliage covered the land, leaving little space for the bright blue sky to shine in. The only animals that could be seen, were jumping from branch to branch. The squirrels'' brown chestnut furs blended with the bark and sets of sharp claws dug into the tree''s skin as they launched themselves between the trees. The birds on the other hand were much easier to spot. Calling out to each other in sharp chirps and quick clicks, they seemed to have no common color. Crosses of magenta with black, blue with grey, and white with red darted around the canopy, peeking at the seeds under the leaves or darting down below. As Gren''s eyes adjusted, a small ridge seemed to form in the valley bellow. ¡°The river.¡± She thought as she climbed her way towards it. Worries of food were the first thoughts to stress Gren''s mind. By the time she had reached the river and climbed down to it''s sandy bank she had decided rabbits would make an acceptable meal if only she could catch one. She mentally thanked Syth for letting her read his survival books as she decided roots would have to do for now. AUTHOR''S NOTE This chapter is quite a bit shorter, not to mention late. I''m still not sure how to proceed with Syth''s POV. I know people don''t normally like switches but Syth is an important character too. Don''t worry. Gren will get most of the spotlight. Thanks for reading.