Erimead

MADELINE WAKES up to the sound of birds chirping. She shields her eyes from the bright sun with her arms, and struggles to get to her feet. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she begins to turn left, wondering how she got in her garden. But the further she walks, the more she realizes that she isn't in her garden. She doesn't know where she is. She walks quicker, hoping to find an inn, a cottage or somewhere to stay in, but the further she goes the forest around her gets thicker and darker.

Beginning to panic, Madeline calls out for help, but no one answers. "Hullo? Hullllloooooo?"

A quiet rustle in the trees above her head startles her, and she quickly picks up a rather large stick, holding it in front of her for protection. "Whoever you are, I'm not afraid of you." Another rustle from a nearby bush makes her jump back in surprise. "Okay, maybe I'm a little afraid, but still...I have a stick."

"A stick ain't gonna do you any good girly," a hoarse voice responds. "Plus, were the ones who got the weapons."

"Yeah," another voice sneers. "We gotta lot o' weapons. And we ain't afraid to use em.'"
Madeline presses her back against a tree, gulping loudly, and holds her stick tighter. "I'm still not afraid," she tells the voices, not sure if she actually believes herself as she says it.

In the distance she hears a "THUMP," and more "THUMPS," that slowly turn into footsteps. As they get closer, she gets more and more frightened. She curses under her breath.

"You ain't afraid of us now, but you will be soon." Four tall figures emerge from the shadows, carrying large sticks with rusted nails sticking out of them, and oddly shaped machines that look as if they could behead you with just one hit.

"I'm not here for a fight, I don't want to get involved with anything," she tells them.
The smallest one laughs. "D'you here that Wolf? The girly doesn't wanna get involved."
All of them laugh except the tallest and bulkiest of them, who Madeline assumes is Wolf.

"Quit laughing dung heads, let's just get the girl, and bring her to the king," Wolf says.

"King?" Madeline whispers to herself. She didn't mean for them to hear her, but one of them must have because he smiles at her, showing his rotting yellow teeth. "Where d'you come from girly?" He asks, but before Madeline can give him a proper answer, something grabs her hand and yanks her up into the trees. She yelps in surprise, and is placed onto a thin tree branch. "Don't move from here," a quiet melodic voice tells her, and before Madeline's vision can focus, the figure jumps back down onto the grass.

She grasps the branch above her tightly, and swallows hard. Below she can hear the muffled grunts of pain from the tall men with weapons, and the sound of twigs and dried leaves scattering. From the other side of the tree she hears a deep voice. "Don't move girly, I'm comin' up." Her hear thumps against her chest, as she attempts to scoot over to another branch, but stops when she hears a crack.

"Come here girly, I don't bite. I just wanna hand you over to the king, he's a nice nice man," Laughs the voice that seems to be getting closer. "Get away from me," pleads Madeline. When the branch cracks again, she makes up her mind, and jumps down onto the grass with ease. She picks up her stick she had been holding before, and sprints to another tree. She peeks between a branch of leaves, and watches as a boy, that looks approximately her age, smacks a guy in the head with a branch.

The boy snaps his head in her direction, and shouts, "look out!" Madeline, that had not noticed herself move from the tree, turns around and watches as a huge bulky man stomps up to her.

The boy drops his stick and runs towards Madeline to help, but stops when she swings her own stick, and whacks the man in the head.
She staggers backwards from the impact, and the man turns limp, falling to the ground.

For a second all is quiet, and Madeline stares at the boy, who stares back at her with the same puzzled expression. The boy takes slow cautious steps towards Madeline, who grips her stick tighter. "Don't move, I'm not going to hurt you, just stay there. My name is Finnick-" but Madeline has already raised her branch, and whacked the boy across the head.

His eyes widen in surprise, and he sways a bit, before falling face first into the grass.
Crouching down beside the boy, Madeline inspects his face. His light skin tone is slightly bruised where she had hit him, and his dark chocolate brown hair is messy and filled with dust. She uses her finger to lift part of his hair up in order to see his face, his eyes are closed, and his long eyelashes are sticking together from sweat. His pink lips are slightly parted and he has dark freckles going from his nose to under his eyes.

She knows him from somewhere. His features look familiar. She thinks back to what he had said before she knocked him out, "my name is Finnick," and she only knows of one Finnick.
The Finnick from her book. The sixteen year old protagonist who lives in the forest of Erimead, with the curious old lady.

Holy hot porridge, she's in the book.