Chapter 1
My Survival
I tidy up the minimal dry area under the bridge I call home. It’s been 3 years since I left my mother, and I’ve never thought twice about it. Once, though, I went back to the house I used to live in to see if she missed me, but there was not a trace of life in it. No car, no lights, nothing. But it's better this way. With my home under the bridge and the cool night air and being on your own. In this small place I have a blue blanket (thrown out by a rich couple who threw away perfectly good things), a tiny pillow, a table made of 3 boards nailed together, and a few more trinkets that I’ve collected.
Most people call home a place where you are safe. A place to resort to. To run to. But I don’t. My home is just a spot under a bridge hidden on all four sides by tall grass and a bit of bush. It is perfect.
After tidying up my space, I exit my home and walk into the rain. Food scavenging time. Usually, I head towards the street vendors in the city but today I decide to go for a change in scenery, so I walk through the now pouring rain to the forest that lies behind the village.
My bridge is behind the village so I am directly in between the village and the forest.
Once I am in the forest, I take out my makeshift bow and arrow from under the rock in the hole I dug to store things. Then, I creep over to the vine and tree branch traps I set last night to check to see if they had caught anything. Nope. Nothing. I sigh, No easy catches today!
I walk deeper into the forest to where all the animals live in hopes of getting something to eat. Along the way I spot a bush of mulberries, so I stop to gather a few.
I creep through the forest, careful not to make much noise, as to not scare away any potential dinner. As I approach the usual hunting spot, I hear a queer noise. I creep closer. And closer. And realize that the noise is… Voices! One deep and the other whispery, like a nighttime breeze that you can feel but not see. I can see the people, but I can barely make out what they are saying, so I take a step forward. But when my foot touches the ground, it lands on a twig. The snap from that twig was more amplified than ever before. I see the two whirl around.
“What was that?” The whispery voice says.
I dive into a nearby bush, realizing that it's a holly bush much too late. It takes all of my willpower not to whimper or scream as the leaves prick and scratch me.
“Probably just some squirrel or something,'' the deep-voiced person says. He turns back to the other, “As I was saying, it’s going to be impossible to escape tonight with all the guards around Nightbirde’s Castle.”
Castle? Where in this little town was there a castle? I shake my head and slowly rise from the bush, wincing with every upward movement. Finally, I can extract myself from the bush and creep towards the edge of the forest. As I am tiptoeing/running, I grab a handful of mulberries. Stuffing my face with them, I sit down on my favorite log and look around. No meat tonight I guess! Wishing an animal would come, I start to stand up. As I am just about to run, a rabbit hops out of the woods. I carefully and quietly load my bow with an arrow and shoot. The twang of the bow makes the rabbit glance up, but the arrow catches it before it can run away. I walk over, pluck the arrow out of the fur, and pick the rabbit up. I check to make sure it is dead, and...it is. Yes! Rabbit dinner tonight! But the fact that I have acquired food does not overpower the thoughts already settling in my mind.
Who is Nightbirde?
Why were those men trying to escape?
Where is the Castle?
~*~
Back at my home under the bridge, I start preparing my supper. First, before it gets too dark to see, I have to make the fire. I grab my box of matches that I nicked from a local house and light it. I throw the flickering lit match onto the pile of sticks I gathered a few days ago, and just sit back and watch the fire grow. I think about all the happenings of tonight. Pondering all my questions, I vow to unveil the answers.
Right as I am about to cook the rabbit, a weird feeling washes over me. What IS this feeling? Then I realize it. The feeling of guilt. I feel guilty that I killed a helpless creature. I don’t know what to do! I don’t want to eat the rabbit, but I can’t make it come back to life! I pick up the creature in my hands and stroke its soft fur, wishing it to live. I sit like that for a few minutes until the fire has burnt down to hot coals. As I am about to set the lifeless bunny down on the ground, I feel a movement. I look down just in time to see the rabbit open its eyes and move its paws.
“It’s alive???” I yell aloud on accident. Oops. Then I hear a tiny soft voice say “She. Not it.”
I look around. “Who said that?” I ask.
“I’m down here!”
I look down at the rabbit, “You?” I question in surprise.
“You can talk?”
“All animals can talk,” It-excused me-she replied, “But no one has ever listened.”
I nod.
“Why is it that you can hear me?”
“Ummm, I don’t know.” Truely. I don’t. First I revive her, then I can talk to her? I pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. Yep, this is totally real!
“Ok then. If you don’t mind, I need to get food.” The rabbit starts to hop away.
“WAIT!” I yell, “I’ve got mulberries, do you like them?”
“MUL-berries?” She screams, “I love those things!”
She hops back to me, and nibbles at the berries on the ground. I bend down and sit on my stump to watch her.
Why is it that I can talk to her? I wonder. Then I realize I never asked for her name! I clear my throat to get her attention.
“By the way, what is your name?”
“Hmmm… I am more of an outcast, thrown out of my home when I was born. I was never really given a name.”
“Do you want one?” I ask, sympathetic for this little rabbit.
“Yes please!” She looks up at me eagerly, with hopefulness gleaming in her eyes.
“Ok, let me think.” I recount back to the time when I had a book. The one time I found a torn up book lying on the streets. I think back to my Father, a kind loving man who disappeared a few years ago and never returned. I have never believed for a second that he left on purpose or that he is...dead. The names flood my memory.
Riley.
Alia.
Regan.
Logan.
Some names I can use and some I can’t, like Regan for example. I don’t think I should name my first friend out here after the queen of a fantasy underwater world in my favorite book.
Then the perfect one comes to me.
Winter.
hope you like it Please tell me if you want to see chapter two when its done.
