Falling Leaves - Chapter 1
First the child felt.
The cold had driven itself through their clothing, under their skin and down, until it found its home in their bones. Yet they did not shiver as they lay sprawled out. Then they began to hear. The creaking of trunks, the sighing of branches in the wind. The nearby pattering of tiny feet. Sight came next; easing open their eyes, breaking through the thin frost that had interlocked their lashes. The sky was overcast above them, the sun nowhere to be found. And yet the dim light of morning illuminated trees all around them, finger-like branches reaching up in silent plea.
Movement was the hardest. Their mind was still foggy and their joints numb, yet they managed to shift themselves so that they sat, curling themselves up so their knees pressed against their chest. After taking a few seconds’ pause to put order to their thoughts they stood. It was a shaky endeavor at first, but they swept their lanky tail out behind them and their balance improved. Tail. The idea of it plagued the child’s mind momentarily before they were caught up in the act of truly taking in their surroundings.
They stood in a small clearing, surrounded by gnarled, splintering trees. Their leaves, all various shades of red and purple, decorated the forest floor and squished unpleasantly beneath their bare feet. Lightning-bugs floated among them, giving off soft amber glows as they danced in the air. It was a short while before the child dared move and risk disturbing the strange environment they found themselves in; slowly at first, soon striding with relative confidence, though always keeping their actions as quiet as they could. If not out of awe than out of fear that they would awaken something from its slumber.
Mist clung to the decaying leaves and browning grass of the forest floor, condensation slick against their bare feet as they wandered through the trees. Time was hard to keep track of as they walked, for the sky didn’t seem to be getting any lighter, nor any darker. Eventually they came across a river, rushing with such speed that the leaves swept up in the swirling water seemed only flashes of color. Across the torrents the forest looked altogether more promising; there was no mist there and the leaves, though no longer on their branches, seemed more vibrant and lively in their reddish hues. However, the river bank was steep and they did not think they could cross the furious water easily. Troubled but not put off entirely, they walked the edge, every so often glancing across the way for signs of movement.
Soon enough they came upon a fallen tree from the other side which spanned the width of the river. The child pondered it a moment; it was thick-trunked and seemed sturdy enough. They brought a foot up and onto it before pausing and dropping to all fours, fingers clutching the rough, cracked bark. Cautiously, carefully, they crept across the makeshift bridge, every so often forcing themselves to close their eyes as to not glance down at the rapids. When they were finally over they felt that hours had passed, though they were sure in reality much less time had gone by. Glancing around, they wrapped their arms around themselves.
Suddenly the forest seemed much colder.
Not having much else to do the child continued to walk. The woods seemed to change as they continued on; the skinny pine trees were replaced by flourishing firs, branches bowing under the weight of snow. To make matters worse it seemed that night was descending quickly. The child was shivering now, feet growing more numb by the second.
They were about to turn around when they heard voices.
Faint, jumbled, but most definitely voices. They tried to follow them as best they could, but the woods were dark and the child was cold. Their feet stumbled, their breaths shook as they attempted to navigate through the trees. Just when the child was worried they had lost them, that they were going to fall down and never get back up, they saw lights.
Lanterns, held by heavily cloaked figures, marching through the forest. They talked and laughed merrily, boots crunching the snow. The child opened their mouth to cry out but stopped themselves. Images of many-toothed grins, hidden under fur-lined hoods invaded their mind. Gulping, they stayed behind the treeline and followed.
The barely-visible path that the travelers had been following grew into a cobbled road, untouched by snow. The child could now see the vague forms of others ahead of them, and guessed that others were following, as well. Still, they kept to the shadows, observing from a distance. The travelers’ cloaks were intricately decorated, woven with strands of gold and beads of red jewels. Their hoods seemed to be tailored to their own liking, for each one had antlers springing from it. They curled marvelously, wrapped in jewelry which hung down and clinked against each other. The child found themselves subconsciously patting at their own two horns, which were very small in comparison to those of the people before them. They wrinkled their nose. Everything about the people shouted ‘wealth’. No, they thought enviously. ‘Comfort’. Oh how the child wished that they themselves had a fuzzy cape to hang around their shoulders, had lined gloves to warm their fingers. Instead they had nothing but a raggedy sweater and torn pants whose origins were unknown to them.
The child’s steps faltered for a moment as an awful realization began to dawn on them. They had no idea--
But their thoughts were cut short by a loud horn being blown from up ahead on the road. They had been so caught up in their own mind that they hadn’t noticed the grand set of wrought-iron gates that lay before them. A stiff-bodied guard stood on either side, glancing over the travelers before letting them through. The child had stopped walking, worries spilling into their mind -- how will I get in? I certainly don’t look anything like these nobles -- when a smell hit their nose. Their eyes widened, and they suddenly realized how hollow their stomach was. With that and the fact that they could barely feel their toes…
The child caught sight of a small party of five, made up of a few elderly figures and several children, a little younger than themselves. They didn’t let themselves hesitate -- as confidently as they could they strode from the woods and began to walk a pace or so behind the children. Their pulse quickened as they neared the gates; what will happen if I get caught? Will I simply be kicked out, lose this opportunity, go die in the forest of hunger and cold? Or will these nobles do something far worse to me? They forced themselves to keep their eyes open as the party stepped up to the gate. They couldn’t risk any more suspicion than they were most likely already receiving.
The guard on the right made eye contact with the child. They didn’t break it, almost daring him to step forwards. But if he was planning to he was cut off by the guard on the left announcing that they could go through.
The child let out a breath they didn’t realize they had been holding and forced themselves not to sprint past the gates. Once they were inside they broke off from the other children and looked around. Their eyes widened.
Within the gate was a beautiful mansion; it was a stark white with red accents, towering over them. The windows were lit from the inside, silhouettes occasionally walking past. The sound of a piano playing came from the building, along with the wonderful, mouth-watering scent of food. The child began to smile at the prospect of such comfort, but their stomach dropped when they glanced at the front entrance. A very serious-looking guard stood by the open double-doors, checking the invitations of those entering the house. His examining glare made the child’s mind up.
They had to find another way in.
(MCrown 12/3/19)
