It started with a wolf.

Chapter 1: Ella

Ella

It was so early, but the weather outside was too glorious to miss. I struggled putting my jeans on over my pyjamas, and gave up completely when I realized it would be impossible to fit my wellies on over the top. I quickly pulled on a jumper and tugged a brush though my knotted hair. I slowly eased out the door careful not to make a sound. The floor boards creaked as I made my way down the corridor, wellies in hand because I didn’t want the squelching to wake my parents. Each step sent thousands of tiny shivers rippling through my spine. Someone had left one of the curtains on the landing open ajar, sending a thin beam of light trailing down the stairs. Why did stepping outside seem like the biggest crime on the planet? Maybe it was because I was sneaking out so early, just to see Rhys. Rhys, a crime in itself according to my father. I’m pretty sure he would shoot me if he knew where I was going. Or worse, stop me from seeing him. I put and unsteady hand on the door knob, and began to turn. Once it clicked, the door easinly swung open, making a soft whoosh. The cold air flew in, biting at my cheeks. But atleast I had come prepared. I yanked on my hat, flicking the pompoms out of my way before they could land in front of my face. I steppd outside. The soft crunching of the frosted grass under my feet, a sad reminder that Autumn had been and gone. I made my way down the path, and prayed no one had seen my leaving. As I got further away from my house, the area I was in got shabbier. I was almost in the neighbourhood where Rhys lived. Surely he would already be up waiting for me. He always was. The houses here were tightly packed and, almost every wall covered in grafiti. Very inlike my house, spotless and standing all alone. Here the sun flooded each window with light. The cracks in the glass casting off brilliant beams of light in ever direction. The beauty of it seemed so out of place here. It just didn’t seem right next to the chipped, plaster walls, or the awkwardly hanging tiles on the roof. I slowly turned the corner onto Rhy’s street. As I did, I was welcomed with a blinding stream of light from the sun. I paused, letting the beautifuly warm feeling spread through my frost bitten cheeks. Instinct told me to look away from the scorching light, or at least cover my eyes. But all I wanted to do was stop and take in all the details it highlighted in Rhys’ small front yard. The grass glimmered every shade of green where the house didn’t cast it’s deep shadow. The bricks became a brilliant red, clashing with the shining white window frames.

As the sun rose behind a cloud, casting darkness over the neighbourhood, it revealed the house for what it really was. Crumbling brown bricks, chipping white paint, and a lawn that looked like it had seen better days. The grass looked like it was more weeds then anything else. I stepped up to the door, and sure enough, Rhys was already there to greet me. He welcomed me into the house and as soon as he shut the door, he pulled me up into a startling bear hug. Once he had finally put me down, he looked at me and grinned. ‘Hello, Ella.’ He greeted. I could hear the mocking in his voice.

He herded me towards the table where two cups of hot, steaming cocoa were waiting for us. I too the seat closest to the fire, the burning surprisingly pleasant after my long walk in the cold. I took of my wellies and put them next to the fire, so close I thought they might melt. After a few minutes, I noticed how wet my socks were. I took them off too, and hung them over the back of my chair, hoping they might dry. I hadn’t noticed Rhys staring at me whilst I was going through my procedure. I looked up at him, expecting him to look away. The look on his face was intense, as if studying me. I noticed the sketch pad on his lap. He was drawing, always drawing.

I took a sip from my cocoa and let the hot soothing liquid warm my insides. I was wondering if I should speak first. I was about to open my mouth, when Rhys stated ‘Ella, your socks are on fire.’ I jumped and turned around.The socks were on my chair. Definitely not in flames. I turned to look at him. A cheeky grin spread across his face, I could never stay angry at him. I pulled my chair round next to his to see what he had drawn. It was me. Wringing rain water out of my socks. I looked up to see the expression on his face. I laughed. ‘What’s so funny?’ He questioned.

‘The fact that you chose such a random moment to draw!’ I replied. Most of the memories I’d had with Rhys seemed to be scribbled in pencil on scraps of paper, carefully collected and glued into my scrap book. I knew he had drawn many of them from memory, spending houtse highlighting details of the emotion on our faces. Each time he gave me a new sketch, it reminded me of all the times we’d had together. And how many I hoped we could have. I rested my head on his shoulder, pleased when he didn’t shrug it off. The quick, sure strokes of his pencil fascinated me, as I asw me come to life on the page. This is what I live for, I thought to myself. These quite moments I get to have with Rhys.