In the bracken covered forest I feel alone, independent. I feel free, for I can finally goodbye to the world. This forest is my salvation for I am alone, away from anyone and everyone who can harm me. I sit down on a lichen covered trunk, and survey the tall wood. The trees that separate me from the rest of the world. I clutch my satchel and feel for the small, palm shaped disk as I wish. I wish I knew what it does, for it has brought me nothing but trouble, and before I can stop myself I dream back to many weeks ago as my memories engulf me like a cloud of smoke.
I'm in an old, brick cottage. It's covered in ivy, with dense holly bushes dotted around the outside. Inside is a roaring fire, contained by an iron grate. I dully hear the crackle of burning logs as I sit in the small room, thinking of what to do next. I can't stay here for much longer. This isn't my home. I'm an orphan, but I don't live in an orphanage. I am tied to nowhere, I belong to no-one, but in a week I will have to go... where? I have nowhere to go. In seven days this house will be bought, and I will have to leave. A feeling of dread settles in my stomach; I can do nothing, I am powerless to stop them. A wolf howls sorrowfully in the present and I am jolted forward in time, within my memories.
It is a week later, I am crouching in the holly bushes outside the house. I have a multitude of cuts and grazes all over my arms and legs. My breathing is hoarse and shallow. I slowly inhale some oxygen as I watch the scene play before my eyes. Two people are outside the house negotiating deals with a real estate agent. I overhear their voices, discussing prices and plans, and a deep sadness settles in my stomach. I have been living in this deserted cottage for over a year, so long that I almost call it home. But I don't have a home, and I never will. I can't stay here, I can't watch. I slowly creep away before they can find me, and run. My long, jet black hair billows out behind me as I sprint as fast as I can. As I am nearing the edge of the property I trip over and fall, dirt staining my arms. I turn my head and they see me. I have been discovered. I hear the same howl; but this time as a pack, as I am pulled towards the present, free of the visions of the past.
But instead of awakening in the forest, I am on top of a small hill; this is where I ran when the cottage was sold two days ago. I survey the rolling wheat fields that encase me, the border between me and the rest of the world. I breath in the cool, crisp oxygen as I try to forget all of the horror that has befallen me, the horror that has shaped my past and present. I try to forget the morning that I found the disk, the morning when my life changed forever. I fall backwards and land on the long grass blades of the hill and stare up at the sky. The dotted clouds that watch over the hill are the last that I see for a long time. But my peace doesn't last long, as I hear the sound of paws crunching dead, autumn leaves, and my dream ends.
I am awake; back to the present. I exhale a long shaky breath and look up at the cloudless sky and the blood red moon, a different moon, for I am in a different world. It is midnight. I have to get back to my earthen shelter before the wolves get here, but as I rise and turn to leave, I hear a howl. Then another follows it. The wolves are close. I shiver, and my spine tingles with fear. The wolves here are deadly, much more deadly than in the mortal world. I bend down and feel the crackly undergrowth of dead autumn leaves beneath my fingertips and press my ear to the mossy earth. I hear the beat of their paws on the ground, and know they will be here any minute now. There is no time for me to run, no time to hide. The only chance I have of survival is to climb.
I race to the nearest tree and scramble up the bark covered trunk, feeling for finger and toe holds. Just as I find a thick, steady branch to perch on they arrive; their yellow eyes glinting in the darkness. The pack howls again, calling for more reinforcements. My breath is ragged; for if the dead branch I'm resting on breaks then I will become dinner.
I open my satchel, hoping that the small metal circle that I found will help me. Somehow. I feel its hard, cold surface, my fingertips feeling for anything that will help me. I hear a metallic click as I find a hidden button and push. The disk expands, and a layer of dull bronze is pushed outwards, forcing the metal plate to increase its diameter to about four centimetres. Suddenly my eyes narrow, and I can see further, my eyesight sharpened. I can see the abandoned bunker that is carved into the largest mountainside, one of the mountains that form the border of this wood. The rickety planks of the bunker look like they will disintegrate at any moment, but are actually very strong, for I have escaped the wolves before, but they have never been this close to me. I have no time to marvel at how the disk has somehow sharpened my vision. I need to get to the bunker fast.
