Beware The Girls You Meet In The Forest (On Hold + Editing)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I lift the lid to the small terra cotta-colored ceramic pot that is perched on one of the highest branches in the tree. I take a big whiff and sigh happily. It is ready.

I pull my metal container from my worn and sun-beaten leather bag that is slung across my chest and start dunking it into the pot, filling it up.

The container is oddly shaped. It has a small lid attached to the top and it screws into the drinking hole to keep the liquid in. It is also very thin, and curves slightly. It would look almost like a rectanglular shape if it weren't curved. It is made of a metal that never rusts, which is good. I can never find those kinds of things anymore. The city people have usually already claimed the good stuff.

I take a sip from the container and swish it around in my mouth. It's perfect. I swallow it and take a few more large swigs from the container. I refill the container to put in what I had drank and screw the lid back on as I slide it into my bag.

I replace the lid on the pot and smile at the six other pots I have. They are all brewing my favorite drinks. The one I just drank from is my favorite of the favorites, though. It is a clear liquid with a strong scent and harsh taste that burns my throat, but it makes me feel happy, so I continue to drink it.

I start to slowly climb down the tree, feeling the bark against my bare toes as I try to find some traction. I slide down to a branch, and step onto it. I begin to walk to the end of it, and jump into the tree next to me.

I swing from a branch and launch myself at another one, throwing in a flip just for the hell of it. I drop out of the tree and land with my knees bent, one hand in front of me on the ground, and the other behind me in the air.

My eyes skim over the trees surrounding me, searching for any sign of people. When I feel reassured, I stand and brush myself off. My black cloak needs to be sewn together at some of the seams. I decide to attend to it when I get home.

My white tanktop needs a good scrubbing, along with my light brown shorts. Yeesh. So do my feet. I start walking north, staying in the shadows of the trees. A river is ahead, so I might as well bathe as I let my clothes dry.

I approach and start to strip my clothes off. The early autumn air is cool against my skin, but the warm sun shines down on me, so I am content. I kneel at the rivers edge, and begin to rub my clothing together, scrubbing off the dirt. Once I am somewhat happy with their cleanliness, I lay them out on a large rock that is in direct sunlight.

I grab my knife from my belt and trot into the water. It is cold, waking me up intantly. I allow my body to get used to the temperature, and I slowly start to move around in order to stay warm.

After a few moments, I sink in and smile to myself. The water is nice on my sunkissed skin. The sun is shining on me, giving the perfect mixture of coolness and heat. It's nice.

After soaking in the water for a few minutes, I grab mint leaves from the edge of the river and mash it up in my hands. I run it through my long brown hair, feeling my scalp tingle with coolness, and then rinse it out.

I rub my right hand across my left arm, tracing the tattoo which stretches from my shoulder blade, across my collarbone, and down my left arm, making black swirls. My hand also brushes over the burn scar I implanted several years ago. It is a never ending triangle that has several connected squiggles running through the middle. I burned it over the veins at my wrist. My hand reaches behind my neck and feels the burn scars there, too. It says 'Slayer', burned in straight, precise lines. And though I cannot feel it, my fingers brush over the tattoo that runs straight down the middle of my back, with little spikes sticking out of the design on the sides.