Day In. Hide Out.

Chapter 7

 I wake up in the same position, with my hands wrapped around my knees. It's about nine or ten o'clock, I would say, and the morning dew saturated my coat. I take it off and lie in the sun for a moment, looking around me. Ascot is still hanging comfortably around the tree branch, no longer hugging it tightly but his arms dangling loosely toward the ground and his legs the same way. His ruffled caramel colored hair shines in the golden sunlight, and his lips quiver as he dreams.

I look down toward the ground, where the thought of the angry guard is still scaring me. But my spirits are lifted as I see a little girl appear, skipping happily along the path. Her long, bouncy blonde hair hangs on her shoulders, and her blue eyes shine brightly as she spins around and giggles. She looks about seven years old.

Suddenly, I hear soft thumping on the ground, and the tree is shivering like a cold wind overtook it. I begin to shake, holding on to the branch for support. Far down the way, I see a looming black shadow darkening the forest. The birds search for shelter under bushes and in trees as the shape lumbers along the path. When I look down again, the little girl is still giggling and playing among the trees, so I take a last look toward Ascot and begin sliding down the tree trunk.

When I reach the ground, I peer behind me. The child is stopped, staring at me with wide eyes, biting her lip. I offer a warm smile and she straightens up, then scuttles off the path and behind a tree. "No, no, I'm not going to hurt you," I assure her with a grin, and her little face peeks around the tree trunk like a skittish puppy.

She steps out carefully, the leaves crunching beneath her, and I feel the ground shaking softly up and down. "Oh no," I mumble, but she raises her little eyebrows and speaks.

"What's wrong?" she asks with the sweetest little voice you've ever heard. It sounds like an angel's voice may sound. Soft and light and innocent, like any little girl's should. Let's just say, her voice matches her looks.

"Little girl, what's your name?" I say quietly, feeling the ground shaking more vigorously. "Nevermind your name," I stutter, beginning to speak faster. "I am very sick, and very contagious. I can only inhabit the forest now. You may not be here. I will get you sick and a girl of your size will surely die from my condition. Run, little girl! Run now and never come back to play in this forest ever again in your lifetime! Do you understand? Not day or night, winter or summer. Run away and never come back!"

The girl staggers back, her little blue eyes getting larger by the moment. Finally, after a long while, probably too long, of staring, she turns around and begins to run. Her little legs go faster and faster, until she's just a speck on the path, far away between the trees. And when she turns the corner, I am satisfied. And I climb back up the tree and watch the black shadow as it crashes loudly past.

Ascot has woken up by the time I get back up in the tree and nods groggily. "Good job. You saved a life right there, you know," he says with a smile.

I blink, and thank him, nodding as I peer down at the crunched bushes and the dirt-spattered trees. "Well, I'm going to the village," he says, sliding across the branch past me and beginning down the tree.

"Wait! You're just going to leave me here? That ghostly guard already came out in the daytime! What if he comes again?" I say, trying to hide the quavering in my voice.

"He doesn't pass one place more than once if he's out during the day....it's his way of exploring his territory. He won't come back by here until tonight," Ascot explains, and slides down to the ground. Avoiding the crater-like footprints of the guard, he goes on down the path, toward the nearest little village.

"Oh, o-ok...." I say, unsure but curious. I do want to explore the forest, and it's not like I have anything better to do here. So I follow him, but at the nearest curve I stop. A wonderful sound like tinkling bells fills my ears. I look toward the east, and carved in between the trees is a little creek, blue and clear, babbling like a talkative toddler. It's surrounded by trees, some wearing only fall colors, others still spring green like the reeds across the other side.

The bank is slippery with mud from the last rain, and I'm careful as I slide down it. I set down my work coat to keep the mud from getting on my clothes, and dip my bare feet in the cool water. Then I listen.

I listen to all that's around me, all the little birds singing and the water hopping over the stones in jingling harmony. They're all beautiful sounds....until the stomping returns. Loud thuds ring out among the trees, masking the beautiful melody of the water on the rocks and the sparrows that have quit their chiming.

The trees shake and the fall leaves, at least those that are left of them, rattle and crunch as the ground quakes harder. And suddenly, I see it. The looming black shadow is right there, in an instant. I can see its face now, the face of the undead.

His face is black, not tanned anymore. He was a big man, Ascot was correct. His clothes are torn and tattered, of course, since he hasn't changed in over one hundred years. A hue of black radiates off of him, extending a couple of inches around him like a shadowy bubble. The previously happy blue eyes have turned stone gray, like the walls of the palace or a cloudy winter sky. His unkempt hair blows in the wind as he stares at me.

I shudder as caked dirt drips from his chin and greenish gray mold clings to his clothes. He breathes deeply, hot air in my face that smells of stale bread and long left rotten fruit. I remember Ascot's warning, and attempt to heed it, but curiosity, that has often gotten the best of my better judgement, overtakes me and I look into his eyes.

A scene of sadness. A movie screen of the tears shed, the hiding places. Gunshots and wounds of all kinds. Screams and swords and more tears. Lots and lots of tears. And many trees, too. As numerous as the stars, the trees and bushes and wildlife that he's been forced to make friends with. Heavy leather work boots stamping tracks on the same path over, and over, and over....the saddest thing I've ever seen. And when I return to reality, the poor man's face is laden with tears again.

He still breathes heavily in my face with clenched teeth, but the silent tears slipping down his cheeks are enough to make me cry myself. Ascot said not to look into his eyes. But I did. I have a feeling that I just messed up big time. I've always been a curious girl, and I feel it'll get me into trouble. But since I've already faltered, why not?

I bite my lip and whisper, "Hello."

His face. I don't know how to explain it. But just, his facial expression, it's....indescribable. Like that of a child opening up a wonderful Christmas present. And suddenly, dust. Sparkling, glimmering dust like that of a creature out of a fairy tale, swirling around the guard. Like an amazing tornado of glitter, it blurs my vision and I step backwards with wide eyes. And when the dust settles and I can see again, the guard still stands there.

But his skin is tanned again. His blue eyes shine brightly like crystals. And he smiles. He smiles with white teeth and soft pink lips, and his hair is not brittle and his hands are not cracked. And the shadow around him has disappeared. A different man.