Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ MEMORY LANE
THEODOSIA WAS ELATED. If the Tewkesbury estate was a house, the woods found on the outskirts were a home. They always made her feel alive. From the electric greenery to the grass that tickled her ankles, to the seemingly endless amount of trees she could climb— this was the forest of their childhood. The woods were filled with widespread trees of varying types, from oak to birch, creating a billowing canopy of emerald leaves, a beautiful home for the beautiful birds that would sing. Every time they visited this place, the beauty of its nature struck them dumb. Fond memories were found in the droplets on leaves and the nests of birds, playing tag with Tewkesbury while trying to not get her dress dirty ("Mother would murder me!" They recall yelling), rolling their eyes whenever Tewkesbury became obsessed with a plant and enjoying the sweet moments of their friendship. Because childhood was easy, and though life was hard, realising that you have to grow up is harder.
"I helped him build a treehouse. That was the most rebellious thing in my childhood, I'm sure. Mother was furious since my hem was caked in mud when we were done," Theodosia told Enola, who was now in a dark brown waistcoat, tweed brown pants and a brown hat as she eagerly took in her surroundings. The bright leaves filtered the bright light funnelling from the sun, a sight that made Theodosia's heart flutter.
Their chest felt warm as they realised they were home.
They floated into a clearing with only a few scattered trees gracing the landscape.
"This must've been one Tewkesbury was talking about.." Theodosia whispered, gazing at a thick tree branch that seemed to have fallen. She watched Enola kneel down to it, running a hand along the broken point.
She pushed herself off the ground and continued her walking, Theodosia trailing behind. That was until Theodosia heard the familiar ringing of wind chimes. Theodosia looked up, just before Enola did, and she smiled widely at the sight of her treehouse.
"This is the treehouse, then?" Enola asked, eyebrows raised, and Theodosia nodded in confirmation, "That's impeccably made, for children."
Although it was surprisingly well built considering it was crafted by nine-year-olds, it obviously wasn't expertly made. There were flaws, like the fact some branches that made up the walls were wonky and slightly off-balanced, and the whole piece of amateur architecture was obscured by the leaves of the tree it was built upon. There was a rope hanging from the treehouse, which Enola immediately went climbing. She turned around, asking wordlessly if Theodosia wanted to join her.
"Oh, certainly not," Theodosia shook her head furiously, "I am in no good state to climb that tree."
And so, Enola just shrugged and began climbing, and asides from the occasional pants of struggle, it was mostly in silence. Growing a bit bored, Theodosia simply took to sitting at the root of the tree as they flattened their skirts.
