My grandmother always said to avoid the forest behind my house, that bad things had happened to our ancestors every time they entered them, that it either led them to their deaths, heartbreak or insanity; whichever came first.
As I lace my boots and hitch part of my skirt to make it easier to run and climb I can't help but ignore grandmother's warnings, since I was a child I've all but fallen in love with the forest, running off when no-one was watching;
The feel of the wind in my dark unruly hair, the crunch of twigs at my feet and the scrape of bark beneath my hands and dirt under my nails.
Sure the other girls think me improper, but honestly I'd rather this over their boring, snobby etiquette in any lifetime.
As I walk the familiar leaf strewn path towards my waterfall I start to unlace my dress and remove it completely until all I am wearing is my corset and petticoat which I then remove and continue to unclip my corset when I hear bushes rustle and a twig snap, slowly reaching toward my boot and spinning toward the noise I raise my small blade and point it outwards as he emerges from his hiding place.
