With Robin.

6

'That would make the last full moon...... Wait why am I even doing this, it's ridiculous' I tell myself slamming my little leather note book closed. It doesn't even matter anyway, It's only a story.

I stand up from my bed and look out the window. This countryside must be getting to my head. Yeah, that's it. I'm actually starting to believe in tales! It's that odd little mans fault, he put things in my head and drugged me with cake! That sly little peasant shan't get away with such atrocious doings.

 As I mentally curse the short chef a white blur catches the attention out the corner of my eyes. I turn my head to get a good look at the blob that dares to claims my attention at such a time. A beautiful pure white unicorn gallops across the field mane bouncing in perfect synchronisation to the silent drumming of its hoofs against the dying grass, it's shade of white so pure it makes my window pane dim in comparison. Its strong legs trail off into a foggy white smoke stands out in perfect complementary on the dark back drop of the fresh night sky in a marvellous  way I have never quiet seen before. This horse has no legs to speak of yet still moves more graciously then I have ever been able to. I continue to watch as it disappears into smoke completely as it runs but unlike that little devil man, it does not pop back up not wanting to gracing me with its presents again. 

I blink a few times and rub my eyes. I don't believe my simple mind has the ability to fabricate something so beautiful, even if it is drugged to some unknown extent. I walk away from the window back over to the bed. I pick up the book again. This is stupid, I'm going for a run.

I jog, gently. Not really caring about where I'm going, as I'm no where never the forest or the mansion. I continue steadily, breathing in the countryside air that tastes so much less acidic to busy London's. The trees where I run are few and far apart, so I think I'll be safe from the funeral crasher gang for now. It seems to me like they don't have the balls to come out the woods that often, for what reason I have no idea.

A large tree catches my attention. It, unlike the others, has almost white bark and a big mouth in the centre. I take a step towards the gap, trying to get a glance at what could possibly be hiding in the darkness. Seeing slight movement I blink, hoping that it's just the drugs wearing off.

A woman steps out. My eyes widen in surprise, as she flashes me a large purely  white grin. The thought of her being homeless leaves me, what type of homeless person has the resources to keep their teeth that white? Although her hair is in long brown matted dreadlocks and her dress looks like something a crazy cat lady would wear on her wedding day. Even after taking this into account, she doesn't make me feel like I should run and not look back. Something about her face screams complete trust worthy calmness in a motherly way, 

"Hello-" she starts, her voice matching her soft features, "-you must be Blake, come on in" she insists in such a casual manner I have no choose but oblige,

"who are you? may I ask" I ask as I follow her deeper into the hollowed out tree trunk, deeper then I thought possible form the size it looked from outside, she chuckles softly and continues down the slopped dig out,

"I'm Loveday" she introduces, I don't know how this woman has managed to tempt me down into a tree hole but she needs to start giving lessons to armature abductors because this is a talent, she didn't even need to offer me sweeties. Does that just make me an idiot? And what type of name is Loveday? Did her Mummy have one to many slices of the devil chefs cake while picking out her name?    

We come to a stop, in complete darkness. Even thought the situation sounds bad, I don't feel even the slightest bit weary about being in it. Maybe it was the drugs? I heard they can do that. She pushes open a wooden squeaky door, allowing light to flood out of a small room temporarily blinding me.

I take blind steps into the room, taking in the earthy smell that pours into my noise in a uncomfortably fast rate. I blink to regain my sight and glance around the room I may or may not get murdered in.