ligaya.

It was but a moonlit night.

Does he think this is a mere jest? What is with this boy..

I heard Dolores again, that same sound left her lips as she frantically looked at me and his friend pinned to the ground with a sword almost piercing his throat. Any unnecessary movement, blood would surely be seen seeping out of his throat.

“Let him go! I swear we mean no harm,” she said, moving towards yet immediately halted as she saw me move closer to him.

I heaved a sigh, slowly retracting myself away from him, removing the sword that drew close to his throat. “So, what do you want?” I asked, cautiously looking at the two of them as the boy walked to Dolores, wiping of the dust and dry leaves that clung to his yellow ruana.

He glared at me, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched. A dirty scowl directly thrown at me. “Well, long story short, our younger brother claimed he saw a big footed creature.. though, it seems it's all made up,” Dolores bashfully explained, averting her eyes away from me, probably to save herself from the shame that was sinking in.

Sounds stupid, yet convincing enough. “I'll let it slide,” I said, a sigh following after. What a ridiculous excuse.

“Who are you anyway?” Is was their turn to ask the questions. I looked at him, the boy in a fancy, yellow ruana. “[name]. Any other information are confidential, thus, they shall not be revealed nor disclosed.”

“She talks funny,” he whispered to Dolores, though making it loud and clear. Could I even call that a whisper when he was obviously mocking me?

“Where am I?” I looked around, observing the canopy of the trees that stood tall, looming over our bodies where it covered the sunlight with only bits of it seeping through the small parts the canopy didn't block.

Birds were singing, humming a sweet and gentle tune as they flew above our heads flying to God knows where. The smell of ripe apples and the sight of dew laying peacefully on top of the fresh, green leaves of the trees and plants. It was already a sight to behold.

“You don't know?” Obviously. “This is Encanto.. A small town lies ahead hidden amidst the forest. We can take you there,” Dolores continued, a smile on her face as she gestured to the path ahead.

“Right. And how can I trust you..?” I asked, waiting for an answer. Either her name, or a firm and reasonable answer. Both, hopefully.

She chuckled, “Dolores. This is my hermanito, Camilo.” Camilo. Nice name for an irking boy like him. “My Abuela has been around here ever since Encanto has been found. Will you trust us?” Dolores, once again, asked.

I took a deep breath in, I have little to no hope in surviving. Best to trust them, if things turn out wrong, I'll kill them.

I nod, releasing the breath I held in. Dolores smiled, clasping her hands together. “Wonderful! We best go now, the sun is setting,” she said, walking forward. I followed silently.

The moonlit night has made its presence known, the sun set about thirty (30) minutes ago and we have finally arrived according to Dolores.

“This is Encanto, our village found by my Abuela,” she said, her charming smile adorning her features. I stood in awe— the moonlight graced its elegance and gentleness over the village, its light gleaming on the houses and flowers that adorned it. The warm light of the streetlamps that stood tall in front of each house added a soft and gentle touch to its surrounding.

And though I have been to a lot of places, even a silver platter served to me since I was born, this place has stood out the most out of all. It was truly enchanting, living up to its name.

“Pretty, isn't it?” Dolores spoke, looking down the hill from where we stood. I silently nodded, still impressed by the beauty of the place. Impressed would be an understatement— but it was the only word I could think of.

“It's getting late, we should really get back,” Charlie spoke, a quiet yawn escaping his lips. “Charlie's right, my body is starting to feel sore, too, from the countless sleepless nights,” I nodded in agreement, yet earning a unpleasant look from Charlie. It's Charlie, right?

“Who is Charlie? Ay, you have already forgotten my name, hermosa. It's Camilo!” he said in disbelief. Hermosa? No wonder why I forgot, the name doesn't suit someone like him.

“Right, apologies, Camilo. I didn't mean to disrespect your name nor did I intend to forget, forgive me,” I bowed my head. How ridiculous of me.

“You really talk funny,” he sighed, shrugging it off. Dolores laughed sheepishly, “Let's just go.”

A few minutes passed and we arrived at a house. Or a mansion, to call it simple would be an understatement. The house that stood in front of me was about two or three stories tall, wide and spacious. Similar to mine, I suppose.

“And this is La casa Madrigal! Our home,” Dolores said with pride. La casa Madrigal? Sounds welcoming.

“Is this where I'll be staying?” I asked. Surely, they'd let me in for a night or two, or a week or so, right? I basically have no penny left in my pocket nor something that holds such great quantity. Other than myself, I suppose.

“We didn't discuss that,” Camilo said, laughing in an anxious manner. Is this house not big enough for one more? Maybe they have a whole village in there, too.

“You can stay with us for the mean time,” Dolores answered, opening the doors of the house with a loud creak following after. “Holá, Casita,” Dolores greeted. To who? Maybe a small pet?

“Camilo's the only one with a vacant bed, sorry,” Dolores said, a wide grin adorning his brother's face right after. “Don't try anything funny, hermanito. Or else I'll get Señor Glenda to assign you with donkey chore,” Dolores jested in a light hearted manner. Probably just messing around with the younger boy.

And with that, we took on our separate ways. Dolores, who I presumed, went to her room to sleep, went to the other side while I followed Camilo to his. “Settle in for the night, bonita. You look close to death,” Camilo said, his stupid grin still there. Paying no heed to his joke, I spoke, “Thank you, Camilo. How can I ever repay you for your kindness?”

“With your body.” “Pardon me?” “I mean, chores, querida. Chores.”