Whenever she was in the forest, she felt much more free. Free to say anything, do anything, be anything. She didn't have to follow her parents' rules or fill their bottomless expectations. She ran and shouted and made as much mess as she wanted. A box hidden in a tree held her 'dirty clothes': some jogging bottoms, trainers and a hoodie caked in dirt, along with a hairbrush and baby wipes. She washed them in the stream every now and then but they always stayed relatively dirty. They hugged her like a familiar friend as she swapped her crisp white dress and patent shoes for them. After carefully putting them in a bag,she shut them in her box. Birdsong filled her head and her heart sang with them. She longed to soar with them: spread her wings wide and swoop through clouds and leaves and branches. Cool forest air flooded her lungs as she took a huge breath.
Flying deeper into the wood, the canopy rustled above her as if the wind was welcoming her in. She must have looked crazy, laughing and skipping over roots and rocks, through brambles and bushes. Sunlight danced on her face as it flashed from above: it warmed both her skin and her heart.
Her running slowed as she came to a small stream. Taking in the enchanting sight, she set the picnic basket on a nearby rock. Hands on hips, she drank in the air, only slightly tired from running. Years of dance had built her stamina to something unbreakable. She closed her eyes and let the sound of the trickling water fill her mind. Her body followed the music of the water and before she knew it she was one with it, letting her body flow and rush and spill. Fluid movement took over and she was at once carefree. After a while, she gradually disconnected from her dancing and came back to actuality.
Sitting by the water, she reached for her basket to find it already open. Uncertain, she dismissed it as the wind, or that she must have knocked it while dancing. Her excuses settled uneasily in her stomach, but she turned back to the water now with a tub of strawberries on her grasp. She picked out the juiciest, ripest one and laid it on a small rock at the edge of the clearing to try and lure out a small animal for a glimpse of the tiny world that existed in the wood. Rabbits, squirrels and hedgehogs were residents here, and Elizabeth loved them all.
Once she had emptied her tub, she thrust her hands into the cold, fresh water. A shiver made its way through her and she smiled brightly. She loved feeling close to the wood and nature, so she rarely ever brought anything unnatural into it for fear of leaving it behind. It felt alien to be holding plastic when surrounded by trees, but nonetheless she produced a clingfilm-wrapped jam roll. The scores on the bread were in the shape of a heart, a Nonny signature. Elizabeth smiled to herself as she unwrapped it and took a crunchy, sweet bite: just like always.
Rustling at the edge of the clearing snapped her attention away from her lunch and she whipped round to look. Realising that she must have startled the creature, she attempted to softly coax it out, while making sure to stay very still.
"Come on, it's okay. I won't hurt you," she cooed in a sweet, gentle voice. She waited for signs of movement within the bushes, but it was silent in the clearing.
She realised that darkness was beginning to seize the air and shivered, pondering how long she had been there, transfixed by the majesty of the forest. Just as she was about to leave and start home, the noise of the animal started up again. Eyes wide, gaze steady, she stared toward the direction of the noise. She found herself peering into an ominously dark space, full of long weeds and bushes that trembled from the movement. Leaning forward on her rock, eagerly gripping her half-eaten roll, she waited for a small, delightful animal to wander near.
But something very different emerged from the darkness. Slowly but surely, a dirty, scratched hand reached from the edge of the clearing. Elizabeth's eyes went wide with horror.
She grabbed the basket and ran.
