Margin Doodles

Chapter V: Please Tell Me You Didn't Hear That Too.

Streaks of cloud were dotted across the midnight sky, and the moon peaked above the hazy horizon, muffled by the outline of the treetops. I almost regretted not bringing my sketch book with me. Almost. I had a heart attack every time somebody even looked at one of my drawings; what would I do if Ramona flicked through its dog-eared pages?

For the first five minutes, we trekked on in a silence that very nearly chocked me to death. Even in the dim light, I could see the tension shimmering in her eyes, and I could feel it simmering in her eyes, and I could feel it bubbling behind mine.

A question would be the best way to start.

"Do you write songs often? Like the one you were singing before."

"I write every day, actually! Or at least I try to." She spoke with confidence, and her head held high, but her hands fiddled with a stray thread on the hem of her jumper. "It's a bit of a hobby."

"What do you like to write about?" Was I asking too much? Was I being annoying, or even rude? If so, she didn't show it.

"Folk tales mostly. I guess you'd call them myths. Greek, Roman, even Egyptian sometimes. But my favourite definitely has to be Norwegian."

A distant memory locked into place. "Norwegian? Like, Midgard and the World Tree, right?"

"Yes, yes!" Her voice came out as a yelp, startling the ravens above our heads. They flapped away indignantly, and one glared at us through the leaves. I mouthed a word of apology, before realising that saying sorry to a bird wasn't the most normal thing in the world. But it was a bit to late for normal now, wasn't it? "Sorry, sorry, it's just, my friendship group knows nothing about mythology."

"Sorry about them, by the way."

"Don't bother, it's not your fault. I'm just surprised Ramona didn't kick me out sooner."

"Really?" I step on a stray twig, and it snaps into shards. Strange, I didn't think anything in this cursed forest was dry. "Weren't you her friend?"

She carefully stepped over a moss-covered log, her muddy slippers almost tripping her up. "I'm not sure if I was." She responds. "She never acted like she wanted me around. I doubt she even liked me that much."

"What do you mean?"

"She'd never talk to me. Always about me or above me, or even down at me, but never to me. And it was always about my height. Like yes, we get it, I'm super short and I'm not growing taller any time soon. Can we move on now? We're holding up the lunch que and I would kill for a plate of mac and cheese."

I chuckled, earning me two stern looks of disapproval that slivered down my back. Stupid birds couldn't appreciate comedy if it bit them on the beak; what did they know anyway?

Ramona continued. The smile on her face widened, and the grip on her hoodie loosened as her actions became more animated, and evidently more comfortable. "And she was always taking the mic out of me too. At first, I thought it was just a one-off thing, and I laughed along, but I got bored after the second week of it. And all those ridiculous rules..." She sighed, "How was I the only person who didn't get it?"

"Sounds like a real Heather Chandler."

Ramona stopped in her tracks and turned to face me properly. Her eyes were fully widened, and they glistened in the thin beams of dwindling moonlight seeping through the foliage. It took every ounce of my willpower not to mumble a bashful apology before hearing her out.

"Well frick me gently with a chainsaw." She hissed breathlessly. "Please tell me that was a Heathers reference?"

"No, Heather's my second cousin on my mum's side, twice removed. Of course it's a Heathers reference!"

Her face was a gradient from the softest disappointment to a scratchy bewilderment and ended on a hue of the purest amusement. She let out a wheezing mix of excited laughter and relieved sighs. "Thank goodness. You have no idea how many people have no clue wat it is. I really needed that."

"Wow. First know mythology, and now no movies?"

"Don't forget musicals!" She chipped in.

"Yeah. Why were you even –" It was at this moment that my head finally caught up with my tongue. "Wait, Heathers is a musical?"

Ramona's hands flapped in front of her torso with a feverish excitement. The strand she was toying with before flopped to her side. "Yeah it is! Remind me; first thing tomorrow, we are listening to the cast recording. The soundtrack is heavenly."

I shrugged, grin plastered on my face. A mental note was made of my dopey expression – and another one to never repeat it again. "Alright, I'll try, but no promises. I'll probably end up forgetting anyway."

We fell quiet again, but it wasn't the ear bursting tsunami of silence that had started the discussion, but a stream of thought that flowed between us, more meaningful and more comforting than any conversation could be. And did I need that extra comfort.

More things cracked and crumbled underneath our feet, things that I wished where tree branches and things that I knew were not. Noises scuttled and clawed and bumped and scratched away from us, and the grass was getting worryingly even, as if trimmed.

Almost as if it were a second path.

For the first time in a fortnight, I was thankful for the unreasonably early sun rises. It was almost light now, the black of night dampened into a misty pre-morning grey. With any luck we should be there and back in bed with an hour to spare before wake-up, fern and all. And we wouldn't have to go near the second clearing – if it even did exist. The only thing left was to find the proof Ramona needed... whatever it would turn out to be.

I felt something rough brush past my hand and before I could react, it laced through my fingers and tugged. Ramona's fingers felt strangely warm, and not that unpleasant, but I had little time to think on that as she held her finger to her lips and pointed down at the ground, quietly asking me to look.

Footprints. A metre wide and long, crushing the wet earth in a shambling horizontal line extending to each side.

Ramona's grip slipped as she knelt, tracing the outside of the imprint with her finger. I turned my attention to the trees that had been trampled by the stampede. The wood splintered at unnatural angles, roots upturned, and leaves scattered.

Neither of us mentioned the hand thing.

"I never thought they'd be this big!" She breathed. Her hands trembled, silhouette distorting over the footprints. The shadows were getting long and dark now, a sure sign that daylight was a couple minutes away.

I nodded. It was a bit too late to ask what they were, wasn't it?

"Y-you can leave if you want to." Ramona's voice was shaking almost as much as her hands were. "I'm sure you've got better things to do..."

"At one in the morning? The only other thing I could be doing is sleeping."

Her chuckle didn't seem to have any traces of happiness behind it. "R-right. Let's just find the fern and get out of here."

"Yeah. I –"

Thud.

"Please tell me you didn't hear that too."