Leannán

Prologue

   The plane ride was rough, dwindling hours of card games and mediocre cashews. Neck pillows with lumps in awkward places and the occasional magazine were picked up at each airport between plane rides. What was promised to be seven hours turned into eight, then nine. Elouise Klemetii, rowdy and impatient by nature, sat in solitude the entire ride. The magazines filled her need to stretch, pulling all of her attention into the new celebrity drama. 

   When the leap-frogging between airports finally came to an end, Elouise tucked the distractions into her smaller carry on and waited until her mother pulled down their luggage from the top containers. Her father, half asleep, her brother, kicking furiously with pent up excitement. Once collecting all of their belongings, they wordlessly trailed off the plane. Their fatigue was shared as one.

   "Where are we now?" Elouise's younger brother, Twain, cooed as he lifted his eyes from his aku ring. The fidget toy was twisted in a pretzel form in his hands. The original blue color of it had been worn down into a lighter shade of it, evident of her brother's hecticness.

   Mom, without looking over her shoulder, replied in the moment. "Well, we're in Ireland of course."

   "Ireland?"

   "Where did you think we were going?"

   "I thought we were jus' gonna see the clouds," Twain murmured to himself as Pops tapped him on the elbow to put the toy away.

    "We're going to see some more later, yep," Mom's response lilted with a cheery glow once seeing Twain's positive response. Trucking along their luggage and turning over her shoulder to look at the three lagging behind, her "We're already close to our apartment, we'll see them again in no time."

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   Elouise Klemetti found herself in the heart of the apartment, picking her hands up off the handles of the suitcases and cracking her cramped knuckles. She wordlessly scanned the room; It was dimly lit, with ancient-looking couches, curling house plants, with a modest design overall. They had two months to call this their home, before the break would be finished and they would find themselves back on the plane.

   Rustic paintings were falling apart at the edges of the frame, the hollow floor solemnly creaked with each step, and the wind whistled hauntingly through the sliver in the door. The scenery of such an innocent home was off, Elouise confirmed with each step towards her bedroom. 

   Upon entering the room, she pulled the suitcases to the side, and with a glittering tint of adventure in her eyes, pulled herself over to the grand window and peaked through the blinds. On the other side of the glass pane was a forest made up of mossy oaks, completely sheathing any sunlight that came below the canopy of thick leaves. The grass itself was a bright emerald green, such a rich color that paired with the orange rim of the setting sun. No sign of life could be seen through the trees, except for the blooming mushrooms in the trunks and the willowed sticks blowing with the silent wind.

   She huffed impatiently, her jet-lag was wearing her down to the bone and she had better sleep, but the call of forest was similar to that of the wild and Buck. The sudden chills the sight of the woods gave her tickled her spine and sent waves of adventure over her. Elouise ran a hand through her hair, before removing her hands from between the blinds and slumping herself down onto the bed. White walls, grey bed, beige flooring. Viridescent leaves, caramel wood, the voidness of the undiscovered shadows. 

   So much was yet to be discovered.