2. Into the woods

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Chapter song: Woodland by The Paper Kites *(Yes I know, it sings about Autumn but it sounds super summery to me!)

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"I love how the trees speak to me in this corner of the woods!"
"I can't hear them saying anything Anne!" Ruby complained, face crumpled in disappointment.
"No, I mean they whisper on the wind, they sing songs of yesterdays, they tell us tales of tragical romances, of sweethearts meeting in these very spaces and of broken hearts," she sighed.
"No, I still hear nothing" Ruby slumped down onto the nearest stump and pulled out her pencil.

"I do wish I had your imagination Anne" Diana complained, "I just can't muster up the kind of things you can."
"Ah, but my dear Diana you have music in your fingers rather than in your head" she comforted her friend. "Now, how are you all getting on with your latest stories?"

She was met with guilty faces and stony silence.

"Hmm, okay then well we have to start somewhere, let's just hear what you have so far. Ruby, you can begin" Anne commanded, turning the feather she had in her hand to point towards the petite blonde girl who was sat at the farthest edge of the tree stump circle.

Ruby read the three lines she had written and then proclaimed she had no ideas at all and needed to head home earlier than planned to change, as they had guests coming to tea and one of them was supposed to be close in age to her and possibly handsome.

Anne rolled her eyes at this but conceded.
Diana was not much better, with barely a page written. Some story club!
"I'm sorry Anne but my mind doesn't switch to fantasies and fanciful ideas as well as yours does. I could write a sermon elequently enough if asked, but romantic adventures, well I can't seem to fix my head on anything that fits. I've never experienced romance do have nothing to start from." She blushed a little at this last comment, but Anne, as any good friend would, pretended she hadn't seen.

Anne clasped her hands around Diana's instead and proclaimed "don't you worry dearest Diana, I shall conjure the ideas and you can write them down." She then proceeded to spill out a tale of romance and woe, which concluded with the heroine dying in the arms of her beloved after rescuing him from certain death.
" I don't know how you do it Anne" sniffed Diana, scribbling the last words being spoken dramatically by Anne as she stood on a stump. "That was so tragic, and so beautiful, where do your ideas come from?"
Briefly Anne imagined rescuing Gilbert and then being cradled in his arms, but shook the thought away quickly before it had time to settle.
"I don't know Diana, my head is just full of them, and out they come!" she responded instead. "Thank you so much for writing it down, we shall have a book of tales soon enough. "
"I hope I haven't smudged the paper too much with my tears" Diana frowned, inspecting the paper closer. "Next week I'll try to write something of substance, I promise; and hopefully Tillie will be recovered from her cold and back too."
"Yes, I do hope she recovers quickly and she is not feeling too awful. "
"Anne, do you want to walk back with me? I have to be back for my piano or else mother won't let me come next week!"
"You go on Diana, I'm going to take a walk to my favourite tree and see if I can't get some wild flowers to take home on the way back. I have a hankering for a crown of flowers today, just as my heroine did. "
She hugged Diana tightly and shouted after her "See you Monday at school" as Diana disappeared around the corner out of sight.

Gilbert had been sat in a small hollow in the moss, back against a tree and deep in his book when he'd heard  laughter and chatter break the stillness. The story club's den was just beyond the next corner and he'd not realised how regularly it was used. He was therefore delighted to hear Anne's voice high and clear commanding her troops. He could picture her, stood tall and straight and graceful, face serious, her red plaits hanging either side of her face, trying to coax the imagination out of them. This made him smile, and caused a strange warmth in his chest he had noticed he regularly had when he thought of her. That said, he hadn't seen her all summer so she may be changed, although Gilbert had no doubt that whatever age she was, she would still be uniquely herself.

There was no one quite like Anne.

His greatest rival, his academic equal, and yet she wouldn't entertain the idea of being his friend. They had so much in common, why did she push him away? He'd regretted teasing her as soon as it was done, but now he had paid for it long enough surely?

He turned back to his book and started the next chapter but his heart wasn't quite in it. In the end he put the book aside and settled down to listen the sound of her voice, carrying on the breeze, telling her tragic story of a brave heroine, who instead of being rescued, ended up rescuing her love instead. He closed is eyes and a smile played on his lips as he listened. In his imagination he pictured the heroine as having red hair, a smattering of freckles on her nose, and big soulful eyes.

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