I'm almost me again (She's almost you)

Chapter 8

One swallow does not make a summer, but one skein of geese, cleaving the murk of a March thaw, is the spring.

- Aldo Leopold

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Rising early a few days later, before even the sun had spread its pale rays over the springtime earth, Lisa showered and dressed in the small boat and made her way out to the kitchen. Charred wood burned deep red in the ashes of the woodfire burner and she made herself some toast with a thick spread of Jennie's strawberry jam, before donning her coat and shoving her feet into her walking boots.

Stepping out onto the deck, she found a thick shroud of mist obscuring the water, muffling the sounds of ducks paddling on its glassy surface, and she quickly scrambled up the ladder. The rungs were so cold that they felt like fire in her grasp as she hauled herself up onto the dew-slicked roof.

Climbing over the wall, she crossed the lawn in front of the dark cottage, her breath visible before her and her feet crunching on the thin layer of frost as the bitter morning chilled her to the bone. It was eerie, walking through the treeline, trampling wild mushrooms and through brambles snagging at her jeans, and the damp clung to her dark hair as her loud heartbeat thumped in her ears.

She went for a walk on the downs, even though it was very foggy and she couldn't see far in front of her. The cold felt good against her cheeks, pinching them pink as it worked its way down her throat and turned her lungs to ice, until every breath was a sharp pain in her chest. Through tall grass and over bluffy knolls, Lisa walked, the cloudy sky turning a deep grey as dawn was hinted at.

It was a good way to start the day, feeling rejuvenated from a good night's sleep, and as the fog lifted to a faint mist and the layer of frost melted to dew, Lisa flopped down onto a damp patch of clover at the peak of a hill. Curled up into a ball, arms wrapped around her knees, she watched the hill drop away into the mist lingering in the dips and valleys of the downs and turned her face up to the sky.

Thinking about everything that had happened, and everything that was yet to come, she watched as dawn split through the grey, burning deep red and fiery orange as slivers of sunlight spilt across the blanket of green. She stayed until the sun was nearly all the way over the horizon, before setting back for the cottage.

In the early morning light, she could see the rooftops of the tiny hamlet nestled in between towns, a haze of mist clinging to it, and she set off towards a thicket of trees following the ribbon of blue snaking through the countryside. It was peaceful and Lisa ambled along with her hands in her pockets, her breath fainter in the air before her and the wind less biting.

As she neared the cottage, she caught sight of something slinking through the shadows of the grove of apple trees bordering the back of the cottage, just behind the beehives. And the chicken coop. Warily edging around the side of the building, Lisa spotted the small figure with russet fur clawing at the mesh wire and realised it was a scrawny looking fox, creeping out from its den in the woods to try and sneak back into the coop for a chicken.

"Oi!" Lisa shouted, hurrying across the garden to shoo it away.

It had the wire in its mouth as she neared, and turned skittishly, dark eyes watching her, before it bounded off into the trees, a beam of sunlight briefly illuminating its rust coloured winter coat, before it melded into the shadows of the underbrush, lost amongst the ferns and witch hazel.

Looking down at the crumpled wire at the coming up at the base of the fence, Lisa crouched down and sighed. The wood was clawed into jagged splinters and luckily its teeth hadn't been able to chew through the wire - yet. Reaching down, Lisa scooped a handful of soil away from the base of the fence and gently tugged along the bottom of the wire mesh, watching as it pulled up easily, uprooting grass and pink worms wriggling in the cold air.