work in progress...
"Why don't you go for a walk, Brenna?" my mother suggested on her way to the kitchen. "It's a beautiful day."
I ignored the suggestion, too busy sulking to care if it was a beautiful day, or if instead a tornado was heading straight for us. I would actually have been happier with the tornado, since I figured if our house was destroyed, we'd have to move back to the city. But there had never even been so much as a funnel cloud reported in the area, let alone a full-scale tornado. Nor had there been any major earthquakes, flash floods, or other natural disasters that could threaten our safety. Hoping to find something to support my argument that we should stay in the city, I had set aside my aversion to libraries and carefully researched the history of the area; Mother Nature, however, was disappointingly kind to this particular corner of the Earth.
And so two days ago we moved into our new house, on an out-of-the-way little street in an out-of-the-way little town which I was sure was officially several kilometres east of Nowhere.
I had spent most of those two days exactly where I was now: curled up in my favorite chair, sulking.
From my perspective, my mother had taken me away from my friends and from the only home I had ever known on a whim. One night at dinner, without any warning, she announced that she had sold our flat and that once school let out for the summer we would be moving to a small town I had never heard of before. She claimed it was because she needed to find a place where she could "start over." I wasn't quite sure what she meant by that. I told her that if she was looking for a new job, she'd have a better chance in the city. She said it wasn't about her job.
"Is it about Dad?" My father died a few years ago, and although she tried to hide it, I knew that my mother hadn't really been happy since then. Maybe she felt it was time to move on, or something.
"No, honey, it's not about your father. I do still miss him, but he's been gone awhile now and my life had to go on without him."
"So what is it about? Why do we have to move?"
"I don't know how to explain it. It's just the way I feel. You'll like it in Creides, I promise."
"But I won't know anyone there! I won't have any friends!" I protested.
"You'll make new friends. We both will."
And that was that. She was starting over, and was dragging me along with her whether I liked it or not.
"You've been pouting long enough," my mother told me now, returning from the kitchen.
"I'm not pouting," I replied sullenly, "I'm sulking."
"Fine, then, you've been sulking long enough. So, the way I see it, you can either help me unpack the rest of these boxes," she gestured around the room where stacks of cartons were still waiting to be unloaded, "or you can go take a hike!"
I stuck my tongue out at her. She just grinned.
"It's hot out."
"You won't melt."
"I'll get a sunburn."
"Put on some sunscreen."
"I might get lost."
"If you do, I'm sure you'll be able to find some friendly people to point you home."
I opened my mouth to try another argument, but closed it again when she shot me a stern "that's enough" look. My mother was generally easy-going, but once she made up her mind about something, she would only tolerate so much before drawing the line.
"You can't stay in that chair for the rest of the summer, Brenna. Go out, get some fresh air. Explore the neighbourhood. I'm sure there are lots of nice people out there just waiting for you to meet them."
Reluctantly, I got up. I would go for a walk, but I was determined not to enjoy it. Almost automatically, I plucked my favourite summer hat, a loosely woven straw one with a wide, shaped brim and a dark blue ribbon around the crown, from the hat tree in the front hall before going out. I barely resisted the urge to slam the door. However, I did stomp down the front steps.
My cat, Hecate, was chasing butterflies in the garden; she was obviously enjoying her new status as an outdoor cat that our move to the country had allowed. "Traitor," I muttered under my breath.
As I reached the gate, I hesitated. Which way should I go? To the right, the road wove its way past several houses before eventually reaching the town. To the left, there were fewer houses; beyond these, the pavement ended and the road seemed to disappear into a forest. My mother wanted me to go out and meet people, so I deliberately turned left. I didn't notice Hecate give up her butterfly chasing and pad quietly after me.
It wasn't far to the forest but the day was already getting hot and it was with relief that I stepped into the cool shade of the trees. A gentle breeze rustled through the tree-tops. The sound was soothing; a feeling of peace crept over me. I thought I heard a voice whispering "Welcome," but decided my mind was playing tricks on me. As I walked deeper into the forest, the road gradually narrowed until it was only a small path, then it branched in several directions. Each branch wandered off under the trees and was swallowed by the undergrowth. Tiny pink flowers growing beside the central pathway caught my eye. I didn't know what they were, but I decided to see where they might lead.
The path I was following was fairly straight, for a forest path. Here and there, I caught glimpses of white or yellow or blue flowers, tiny pockets of colour holding out against the pink that flanked the trail. Far above, I could hear birds singing cheerfully.
Suddenly, the trees ended and I stepped out into a clearing. My unknown pink flowers spilled out a short distance beyond the trees then gave way to lush green grass. At the very centre of the clearing stood a large yew tree. As I drew closer, I could see that roses climbed up the trunk of the tree, and even twined about the lower branches.
"How strange. I don't think I've ever seen that happen before." I spoke out loud without realizing it.
Someone giggled.
Whipping around, I scanned the trees. Had someone been following me?
"Who's there?" I called.
Another giggle. This time I was sure it had come from the direction of the oak tree.
I walked all the way around the tree. There was no one there. "I must be hearing things," I muttered to myself.
The giggle came from very close by, and closer to the ground. Crouching down, I peered into the think tangle of roses.
A pair of eyes stared back at me.
Just then, something furry brushed my leg.
I flinched away, but getting a glimpse of grey stripes, I realized what it must be and lunged forward.
"Hecate, no!"
I somehow managed to catch my cat before she hit the thorny branches. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small figure flitting rapidly towards the safety of the upper tree branches. By the time I had a firm grip on Hecate, the creature was gone.
"Well, troublemaker," I scolded Hecate, "you've managed to scare away some poor innocent creature. Whatever it is, I don't think it will be back anytime soon, so we might as well go home."
***
"How was your walk, honey?" my mother called when I walked through the front door.
"Fine," I answered curtly, replacing the half-smile that had snuck onto my face with a definite scowl. "I think I'm going to have to get a bell for this one," I added. "She's a real menace."
Surprisingly, Hecate had allowed me to carry her all the way back to the house. But now, perhaps because of the threat of the indignity of wearing a bell, or simply because she was in a more familiar environment again, she wiggled out of my arms and stalked off. I headed for my chair, but paused to watch her explore a pile of boxes still waiting to be unpacked.
"You can't have every box you want," I told her as she started clawing at one. "You already have empty boxes to play in over there."
Hecate typically ignored me, and continued her efforts to get the box flaps open.
"Oh, alright. You win. I suppose I should help unpack this stuff, anyway." Gently pushing Hecate out of the way, I opened the box she had been scratching at. The first thing I pulled out was a book about fairies.
"Did you know this was here?" I asked the cat, who was now watching me with her golden-green eyes. "Maybe I'll have a look at it later..." Setting the book aside, I turned my attention to removing the rest of the box's contents.