The Daughter of the Woods

Chapter 1 - Abby

I absent-mindedly chew on my middle finger nail as Mom yells at me to continue packing. I shift my gaze to the window, and study the familiar patch of forest outside. The welcoming trees, towering above the grass and dandelions that spring has gifted our yard.

"Abigail! Are you even listening? We leave tomorrow and none of your room is packed." She crosses her arms and sighs. "No one likes moving, Abby. But it has to be done." She steps over to me, and softly rubs my shoulder.

"I'll do it later," I grumble. Shrugging her off, I stand up and walk to the back door. I feel my hand start to twitch, and I speed up my steps.

As I step out into the cool air, I instantly feel the twitching in my hand fade. I begin to walk along the path my feet have created between the trees after 15 years of walking over the flattened leaves. I come to the clearing, and kneel in the center. Placing my hand on the ground, I inhale deeply. The fresh air fills my lungs, and the energy rushes from the ground up through my hand. My senses heighten, like every cell in my body is waking up. I can feel every vibration from the rabbits and chipmunks scurrying underneath the ground. I can hear every bird chirp and deer jump. I can see every leaf in the highest tree, and every cricket hopping along the forest floor.

Refreshed, I stand back up and take in the world around me. I notice a flower along the edge of the clearing has been broken after being stepped on. I bend down, and take the snapped stem in my hands. Taking more nature air into my lungs, I concentrate energy into my hands. Green hued light radiates from my hands as I revive the dead plant.

I stand back up, and take in every last detail. I've been coming here my entire life. Even when my mother was pregnant with me, the only thing that would calm me down would be coming here, to this very clearing. Of course, it would be 5 years until I realized why I was so compelled to the forest.

The older I got, the stronger my powers became. When I turned 5, I started needing to go out. I used to just become weak without it. But now, if I go too long without going outside, bad things happen. It starts with a hand twitch, and then my whole body starts shaking. I sweat, and breathing becomes difficult. That's when the real trouble starts. I lose control of my powers. My hands glow green, my hair starts to turn to vine. Literal vine. I don't know what happens after that, and I don't want to find out.

I'm going to have to find a new place to regain control at the new house. Somewhere out of sight.

I hear footsteps on the trail a while behind me. Not animal steps, they're much too heavy and deliberate. Human steps. I diffuse the light in my hands, and whip around. I'm greeted by Mom's thin frame, and long, straight, light brown hair. Everyone says we look identical, but I don't really see it. I'm not fat, but I'm not as skinny as my mother. Our hair color is the same, but mine is shoulder length and wavy. We do have the same nose, small and elegantly curved. The biggest difference is our eyes. She has warm, chocolate eyes. Mine are bright green.

"Abigail, it's time to come inside and finish your packing," she says through gritted teeth. "I'm not going to ask you again."

I roll my eyes and start my way back to the house.

Exhausted after packing for hours, I flop down on my bed in my now almost empty room. Reluctant to fall asleep, I fight to keep my eyes open, knowing when I wake up tomorrow, we'll be leaving.

Determined to win the fight against sleep, I kneel on my bed and push open my window. Instantly, I feel more awake. Normally, I grow the branch just out of reach from my window so I can climb out and go to the clearing. But my body is so tired from moving so many heavy boxes throughout the house; I lie back down and just breathe in the outside air.

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I can't breathe. The polluted air and lack of any sign of plant life in sight is sickening. As Mom helps me pull some boxes into the elevator of the apartment complex, I can barely stand to look at her. I'm horrified. She moved us to New York City.

She unlocks the door, and we step into the dusty, empty apartment. I drop the box to the floor, and storm immediately back out. We've been in the car for hours; my hand has been twitching for the past 20 minutes. I can't lose control. There has to be something around. The air is so disgusting; it's draining me more than reviving me.

I stand on top of the stairs that lead up to the building, staring out at the street. I desperately scan around me for anything that can help. There's not even a patch of grass in sight. Now frantic, I pull out my phone and search up how close I am to Central Park. There has to be somewhere around.