PickleChiffon
Supernova
- Joined
- Apr 16, 2011
- Location
- Canada
It had started when she was fourteen, at least that’s the first memory she had, of seeing him. She wasn’t really sure why it was a “him” but something just felt right about that designation.
She’d been traipsing around the wooded forest of her Grandparents' hobby farm. Not a care in the world, until she heard a snap of a twig.
The sound had sent her heart racing, she hadn’t been the one who made it. She had crouched down, pretending to tie her shoe, still as a rabbit ready to bolt, when he appeared on the path just a mere 30 feet in front of her. She had raised her eyes, and looked into the most vibriantly colored orbs she had ever seen, with a shock of white fur brazenly obvious over the right eye. Her heart had been pounding, loud enough it seemed the only thing she could hear.
There was no way she’d be able to out run him at this close an encounter.
So she stayed still and watched, as he sniffed the air, tilting his head from side to side, before dropping his ears and tail, in what looked like a bow of sorts. She blinked, and he was gone.
That had been the first time. But since that day, nine years ago, she’d seen him often enough, on the fringes of places he shouldn’t have been, as well as those she expected to see him.
She gazed out the window of her Grandparents' farm.
The for sale sign blowing in the wind, as the tress slightly rustled. She had a week here, to clean up the house and vacate it, then it would be back to school. She’d walked the woods daily since she arrived three days ago, but she’d not seen him.
She hadn’t seen him now for a year or longer, and somehow, that fact made the loss of this place even more prevalent and weigh heavy on her heart.
She’d been traipsing around the wooded forest of her Grandparents' hobby farm. Not a care in the world, until she heard a snap of a twig.
The sound had sent her heart racing, she hadn’t been the one who made it. She had crouched down, pretending to tie her shoe, still as a rabbit ready to bolt, when he appeared on the path just a mere 30 feet in front of her. She had raised her eyes, and looked into the most vibriantly colored orbs she had ever seen, with a shock of white fur brazenly obvious over the right eye. Her heart had been pounding, loud enough it seemed the only thing she could hear.
There was no way she’d be able to out run him at this close an encounter.
So she stayed still and watched, as he sniffed the air, tilting his head from side to side, before dropping his ears and tail, in what looked like a bow of sorts. She blinked, and he was gone.
That had been the first time. But since that day, nine years ago, she’d seen him often enough, on the fringes of places he shouldn’t have been, as well as those she expected to see him.
She gazed out the window of her Grandparents' farm.
The for sale sign blowing in the wind, as the tress slightly rustled. She had a week here, to clean up the house and vacate it, then it would be back to school. She’d walked the woods daily since she arrived three days ago, but she’d not seen him.
She hadn’t seen him now for a year or longer, and somehow, that fact made the loss of this place even more prevalent and weigh heavy on her heart.