In The Burrow

Prologue

Prologue

The woods of Levantre

The faint light of city from the distant valley glimmered on our car’s broken back window. I eyed at its haze intently, trying to cram a picture in my memory ’till the last specks of blue and white dots slid unto the shadows as we past down the thick hedge of pines.

That was it. Our city. My last glance of it. I inhaled silently, pausing to contain the breath for few seconds then released it in the wild in an audible sigh.

Clicking my tongue, I returned to sit properly beside the bags of things we could stuff inside our car. Some of those are my white lacy dresses, sandals, few of my books and my sketch pad and guitar. My father was only able to secure our money, and few of his shoes and cloths before we headed off into the midnight.

Most of our things we left in the house were now being examined, perhaps including the paintings I left on my wall.

Swallowing the last trails of regrets I had for tonight, I pushed back my thoughts and worries at the corner of my head and lifted my face into the window once more.

There was not so much to see. Only the blurs of space between the trees and mid-tall grasses that trying to creep on the road were visible under the stretch of the moonless sky.

“Aren’t you tired?” Dada’s silent voice broke my eye from the rather vile night scenery. The last interesting sight I have seen before I turned to him was perhaps a bird or bat vanishing into the woods.

I smiled faintly beneath the flickering light inside our car.  “Not much now, after that.” He nodded knowingly, his eyes on the way.

“You can rest later. Tho, we still have a couple of hours to Levantre,” he said. A slight pinch of pain made me respire. I know, after while, although I keep avoiding the thought, I needed to face it. After all, we’re fleeing the city.

Truly, exhaust and haze were pulling me, but something about everything kept me awake. I won’t say it is the worst but it is one. It is a heavy feeling, between uncertainty and melancholia, that I could never word...

As if a cue, I reached for only charcoal I could save from the city inside my dress’s pocket and hardly pulled the sketch pad from my bag. Under the faint light of yellowed lamp, I drew the couple of hours away amidst the sounds of wheels and rustles of bat or bird vanishing into the woods.

The faint knock on the door roused me. Little irritated, it was only when my eyes were open I realized that we’re not in the Witherwood House. From front window, Dada was carrying the bags we jammed inside our car towards a small white house. The sun taunted from the mountain behind it. Its fiery light patched the dark trees in  young gold. I stared at it quite longer, trying to remember every detail my eyes could catch.

Then, there was the knock again. I looked at the window beside me. I held my breath behind the glass. Eyes in color of flame, iris were in swirls of red and gold... and were moving around his widened pupil.

An ochre fox was looking at me wide-eyed!