Deep In The Woods

Prologue 1

Blinding hot white lightning didn't split the dark sky nor did a crack of thunder rattle the fear from her bones, seeping out like a rolling fog in the morning summer dew. Angry, torrential rain didn't pour down as she calmly walked through the darkened and dense forest, brittle and bone dry twigs occasionally snapping beneath her feet, adding to the symphony of silence.

No one was after her.

At least not yet.

No, no; the forest that lay beyond her was quiet, tranquil as she shuffled over dead leaves and fallen branches no longer a part of their family tree, left to lay in the barren wasteland that was the forest floor.

But the forest was anything but that. The forest was serene, peaceful, a place for many to become lost and none to be found - unless they wanted to be, of course. The forest was a place to come together as one or separate as lonely as a single shooting star, dying out in the depths of the galaxy above.

The forest could become and the forest could kill.

The fallen branches didn't know that though.

Nor did the trees.

They would live their lives thinking and assuming the branch that had once held a place upon its hands had deliberately jumped ship, essentially turning its back upon its own kind, its own flesh and blood.

She shook her head at her insane thoughts.

Trees didn't know.

Trees didn't have feelings. Of course, the trees and their branches didn't understand the miracle that was formed before them or the very things that they were formed from.

She had always loved the forest. Not because of an upbringing, but simply because it was where she could escape to if needed. A place where she could think, a place where she could feel, a place where she could live. Live without the constant pressures of her society, slowly suffocating her mind, bogging it down into a bleak haze with no sense of direction.

That was something she vowed to never do; follow blindly, unjustly. Something she always believed was important was to have a reason, a purpose as to why she was doing something - anything.

To follow into the world without a care was not only downright irrational but put others, regardless of awareness, at risk. Not to mention themselves.

History is written through the eyes of those that followed blindly.

She would not be one of them.

For if she was, she would not be trekking through the thick brush that inhabited the forest at the midnight hour; stones, dirt, broken twigs nipping at her ankles.

No, for if she were a blind follower, the bundle of joy, albeit fussy, tucked within her tired arms would still lay back at the deteriorating cottage, awaiting its fate.

But instead - instead she took that fate, realigned the stars, and was in the process of rewriting history, rewriting what she wanted as fate, whether fate itself was aware or not.

It was strange, they lived their whole lives to this one thing, to this one concept without a shred of reciprocity, without an ounce of reassurance or even a dollop of guarantee.

Yet, here she was contradicting herself by allowing fate to take the reins on the life that lay within her arms, following blindly to fate. Although, she did breathe better knowing that she had at least a sliver of influence. Originally, the baby resting within her limbs was set to die, to be slaughtered out of jealousy and pure, unadulterated apprehensiveness and fear that burrowed its way deep into the wary minds of the others.

The baby was to be eliminated, destroyed, just to settle the minds and ease the hearts of the others; her baby. All because the uncertainty and greed were too much for the others to bear, too much to swallow, and too much of an inconvenience to expand their hearts and welcome the tiny thing into their lives, their community, their family.

Which is why she snatched the baby and ran.

She had others, she knew of people that would take the baby in, love it, cherish it, never let a day pass without the child knowing that it was valued. It was more than she could say for the alternative.

Death.

Although that's exactly what may be waiting for her upon her return, as long as the tiny being she clutched to her chest survived, that's all that mattered. She didn't want anything else. Well, other than seeing the child grow and develop into a wonderful person, but she would take what she can get.

And so she continued on into the night, not once looking back from the place she was hailing from, partially out of defiance, partially out of slight fear that if she did, if she stopped even for just the slightest of a second, they would take her baby away. That the risk she was taking would be for nothing and that wasn't something she was willing to let happen; she refused.

Back in her village, she only had one person she could downright trust. The rest of the lot were shady at best, only looking out for themselves and whatever would give them a leg up, regardless of blood or bond.

No, she couldn't trust any of them.

For even a wolf in sheep's clothing will still howl at the moon.

She was confident, but she was afraid. She was afraid for the baby in her arms. She was afraid that it would be found, that someone had followed her. That, even though she could trust the person she was giving the baby to, she was afraid that it still wouldn't be enough, in the end, to keep it safe.

But she had to continue and she had to have faith.

For she wouldn't die in vain. 

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