The Innocent

Separated

Melanie tore her eyes open, the scary thin man in her dream was Jon's father, the one with the cold eyes. Was it possible that he was using Jon to find her; was Jon in league with him? He had been acting strangely after she told him. Melanie pushed that thought away; Jon would never do anything like that. Beside the man, James, had left his family without much of a backward glance. The sketchbook was back in her hands open on the page of the cottage after its destruction, she didn't doubt that she had just been inside the cottage. Resolve crowded Melanie's head. She wouldn't tell Jon what had happened or who and what his father was now. Did he even no why he left?

Melanie turned to the next page in the book. It was of the Jon and Aunties home, this time not drawn from memory. She could see Auntie standing beside the front door. She smiled as she remembered, it already seemed so far away. Turning the page again there was another picture by Jon, this time they were in the kitchen. Auntie was at the stove stirring a pot of something and looking happy, just like Melanie had imagined she would have looked at the cottage, no one was at the table. Jon was drawing the picture.

Finally Melanie turned to the most recent picture in the sketchbook. It was of her she realised, it had taken her a moment to work it out because the person in the picture looked noting like the one who had left Leasin. Jon had drawn her with wings, like the ones she had imagined for herself when she was learning to fly. She had been wearing a skirt that day and a sleeveless blouse. In the picture her eyes were closed and her hands out stretched, he hadn't missed a single detail, she had been so happy that day. It had been only a few weeks ago but it seemed like much longer, the innocence of those times already forgotten.

Melanie sat with her eyes closed remembering that fantastic day. She heard it before she saw it, she wouldn't have even heard it if it hadn't been for the snapping twig as a boot came down upon it. She stood up holding the sketchbook beneath her arm. Behind her she heard a sound she spun, Jon's father coming into view. She screamed, dropping the sketchbook as James's hands reached out to cover her mouth then there was nothing, just darkness and silence.

Jon spun round, the scream had come from somewhere to his right. As his gaze swept the trees he saw a gap in the cover and swooped towards it, lying face up on the ground was a small book open to a sketch, a picture he recognised. Jon swooped down towards it cutting through the branches. Jon almost crashed into a tree in his haste. He picked up the book staring at the picture. His fingers trailed across the picture, her wings had glimmered gently in the sun. Where was she, why had she screamed? He looked at the book, trying to remember if he had taken it out of his bag. Had Melanie gone through his stuff? He focused his mind trying to find her he reached out, stretched as far as he could. Surprise coursed though his body as at the end of his senses he came upon the camp. How long it seemed since he'd left. He ignored the sense of urgency he felt and reached again looking for Melanie. There was no sense of her, but there was something else. Familiar. He shook his head. No distractions. Eyes fixed on the ground he found his way back to site.

It was tidier than when he had left it. Perhaps Melanie had tidied up before she went to find him. It seemed unlikely, she had said she'd been scared for him, she must have come back to the camp before. Jon looked at the book in his hands again. Softly he opened it to the first picture; he loved how his father had managed to capture the family. His mother lay on the couch, his father in the mirror as he drew, his mothers hand resting on her stomach. He ran his hand over the mirror, letting it rest there hiding his father from view. He had been kidnapped his mum had told him; taken away from them, James didn't have a choice. She said that he would be back. Jon hadn't wanted to leave the cottage, leave his home, the place that his father would have looked if he were looking for them. But his mum had taken him away anyway, to live in the forest. She said that James would be able to find them wherever they went. It was the only reason Jon was prepared to leave. He turned to the first of his own pictures. He had drawn the little cottage, his last sight of it. Men had come; they had been looking for something. His mum had run with him to her bedroom, she had pulled a letter from a side table. She had hugged him close whispering that everything would be all right. She had given him her locket to play with, it wasn't really much fun Jon had looped the chain around the bed leg, after that he sat obediently as the men went around crashing through the house. One of the men had come thumping into his mum's room. He had stared at them for a second.

The man had glared at them. "Get out."

His mum had grabbed him by the wrist, he had wanted to stay holding tight to the locket. She had dropped the letter as she untangled his fist from the chain of the locket explaining quietly to him they needed to go. Once she had him him free she gripped him by the wrist and led him towards the door the man had stood aside waiting for them to leave. When she had stopped to look back the man had shoved her, he wanted them to leave straight away. Then they had run, down the stairs and out the front door. Jon had stopped at the gate and looked back. When they finally stopped running his mum gave him the sketchbook.

Jon looked around the camp. He realised he hadn't yet returned to his body. He sat across from himself staring at his silent face; he looked like he was asleep. It took awhile for him to relax back into himself, when he did he slid the sketchbook back into his bag and finished packing up the camp. He would find Melanie, it was obvious that she had come back, he could see her walking away. He hauled his bag onto his shoulder, Melanie's slung in front of him. When he reached the spot where he had found the sketchbook, he sat in the same place Melanie had. His senses tingled with familiar magic. He remembered his dad. He had loved playing hide and seek with his dad because his father had some kind of special power, he could hide from Jon and his mother in plain sight, sneaking biscuit mix from the bowl and hiding Jon's paintbrushes from him. He had shown Jon how he had done it, he would stand in front of Jon and the next moment he would be gone. When he had taught Jon what he was doing he had made sure Jon was able to find him, tracking was what James had called it. Making him practice again and again so that Jon could do it perfectly and was able to find his dad no matter how far away he went.

Digging in Melanie's bag he found a small dagger that she had always kept close, it had belonged to many generations of her family before her. It hadn't mattered to him then but he knew that it was very important to her. He cradled it; he was going to find her.