When the ants came, they came with might. One by one, they trailed to and fro on a moss-covered tree trunk. Abigail watched them, curiously and with great puzzlement, for what felt like both minutes and years. This was often how she felt while observing the natural world. It was as if everything passed by too quickly; it didn't give her enough time to appreciate all its beauty and complexity. Yet she seemed to fall into a different world entirely, one of sunshine and green and fresh, crisp air. This was a world few dared enter, where all the wild things truly roamed, and it was home to Abigail.
She supposed it must also be home to these ants, and she wondered how her friend, Luke, fried them so happily with sunlight and a magnifying glass. For one, how did he get the ants to keep still? Abigail watched those dedicated ants march, march, march back to their nest, with what she assumed to be food in hand. So quick, so orderly. How did a six-year-old disturb such precision? And why? Abigail was only seven( though if you delved into her eloquent thoughts you might not believe it) and her imagination, so wild and untouched by those pesky 'adult' things in life, simply could not comprehend something so terrible.
Abigail heard them moments before she felt them- little rain droplets falling daintily from the white above. Faster, faster. She ran under a nearby oak, giggling as she took cover. She looked up in awe at the green canopy of swaying leaves; the fact that a collection of such delicate things could provide so much protection amazed her. Though, it could very well be said that Abigail was amazed by most anything green or furry; anything rustling and alive. However, in that moment, everything seemed clearer. Leaves glistened and birds sang and Abigail, though she didn't know it, had changed profoundly.
Her eyes brightened and her breath caught in wonder. Every speck, every breath, every movement was so much more now. So earnest and defined. Her little hands reached out and, from the watery deluge, captured a single droplet. She pulled it quickly into her alcove, marveling at the silken substance. Never did it dissipate from her palm, as it normally would; instead it held it's form for as long as it pleased Abigail, and then slipped instantly away.
And this was simply the beginning.
YOU ARE READING
The Wilderness
FantasyAbigail is changing. At seventeen years old, she's in love with the natural world. She has plans to go off to college, to move on from her dull life. But plans change, too. The forest calls to her, as does an ethereal song that makes her feel both f...
