Day In. Hide Out.

Chapter 6

When I wake up, it's nearly dark, and the rain has stopped. I'll travel by night, I decide, at least until I'm far enough away from my old village that I can relax a bit and go on safely toward Breckton. I pick my satchel up from the ground and shiver, hoping that it'll be soon when I can look like a girl again, and take up my fur-lined winter coat. I take the shard of glass, which I earlier filed down to smooth the edges, and set it in the front pocket with my food supply. When I do so, I take a bite out of a pastry and put it back in its place before closing the bag up.

Pushing away the box, I open the creaky hinged door, and wave to the little shed. It would've been a good shelter if I'd have needed to stay a while. But I don't, so I close it behind me and go onto the path. All through the forest, wildlife is creeping out, as if to make sure it's safe and clear before emerging.

A little family of birds hops out from under a dense bush. A squirrel climbs down a low tree branch, jumps down to the ground, and scurries across the path in front of me. As I begin to walk, a small doe peers at me from between two trees and wiggles her tail when I look over.

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I haven't walked extremely far, but only far enough to avoid any other ditzy guards who decide to check out the area. I continue on my quest as the sun escapes and the moon takes over, chilling the night with its silver glow.

I have to guess it's about eight or nine o'clock by now, I think to myself. As I trudge along the beaten path, the dirt settles and mist replaces the drizzle. I am still cold, but the long sleeved shirt gives me some warmth, and at one point I do stop and put on my workman's coat I bought at the store.

Every once in awhile, when all is quiet, I take a rest at the foot of a tree and listen to the rustling of the wind running through the trees. The chirping of little crickets off the trail and the night birds up in the treetops keeps me company, and I pretend, as I did when I was young, that I'm a princess and they're all my friends and I talk to them and name every one.

"I dub you....Amelia," I say with a grin as I pass a small fawn curled up in the undergrowth. I try my deepest boy voice, and luckily it's a fairly good one. "And you are Finn," I smile, pointing at a little squirrel as if flicking a magic wand. "Bet no other boys ever do this," I say, and begin to laugh.

I pick up a stick as my imaginary wand and point it at a bird. "And you....are Ascot!" I cry with glee, flicking my wrist yet again. I don't have a good grip, however, on the stick, and it flies through the air toward the little bird. The bird flutters under the tree branch and around the trunk, but the stick soars through the air and lands with a "crack" on something.

"Ow!" I hear a voice say as a shadow emerges from behind the tree. The shadow isn't too much taller than me, but is as skinny, and the voice is familiar. "Who said my name?" the voice demands as the moonlight shines on his face.

My eyes widen at the scarily familiar face. Even the mud stains on his clothing and tangles in his unruly hair are similar. I can remember playing with him every day. He was the only friend I had when my parents died, besides Walter and some sister who left me. My best friend, in fact.
I want to rush over and hug him, say it's been so long and he was such a good friend. Ask what happened to his grandmother and why he's in the woods somewhere far from the village. I severely doubt he's playing king. But I do not, for I remember my disguise as a dusty looking, young boy. I must look like a doofus, waltzing around in a giant coat over my tiny framed, thin body.

"Um," I say in the deep voice, searching for something to say, "Sorry, I wasn't....er, talking to you." Nailed it! I think to myself. But obviously, I did not. Ascot barely listens to my words. He studies my face for a long time, his eyebrows furrowed in the middle, his lips pursed.