The Foxes and the Hounds

***The Foxes and the Hounds*** is the ninth chapter of *Winter's Tales*.

Due to its break from the main plot, it is considered an interlude chapter.

## Synopsis

School is over for the summer, enabling Winter to spend peaceful time away in the Piney Woods. Although she becomes bored with a lack of challenges, her creativity prevails, and she immerses herself in a wonderland of illustrious fiction.

## Disclaimer

*Varien will be referred to with female pronouns in part of the chapter in reference to the two years after coming out before he used masculine pronouns again. The events in the chapter have been mirrored to match real life; Varien will be referred to with his correct pronouns in a later chapter.*

## Transcript

*"In the bittersweetness of a lie... where the lilypads are bloom less yet..."*

*Peace.*

*A hidden friend in the mist, peace comes and goes, taken away with the breeze and croak of the ancient trees, bobbing along with the rabbits in the forest, swung into the sky with the grace of hummingbird wings.*

*Peace is lighthearted, a serene emotion that brings calm. The mind relaxes, the shoulders loosen, and you sink to your knees, breathing the mystical feeling in.*

*Peace, when around, is a virtue. Peace is vital to the wellbeing of society. Without peace, there would be ruins. Embers of destruction. More fatalities than historians could ever remotely document.*

*In rare moments of war, when the tides are struggling to turn, and when all seems like it's for naught... there can be peace. A forest can be charred, burned away in wildfire. But when you brush the ash and blackened ground away, there's a sprout. A seed of life.*

*Peace doesn't go away forever. It never does. It may disappear for some time and blend into the deepest shadows lost within your mind. It seems unobtainable as the void closes in and swallows you whole, spitting your bones back out because of the unsavory taste.*

*However, there can be peace if it can be discovered. With peace, hate washes away, as if your body was slicked back in the fall of the rain. With every sunrise comes restoration, and with restoration, life returns. Peace returns. All is well, and society rebuilds, better than ever, new and improved, and freshened, adorned with bright paint.*

*When it comes, peace is welcomed, and the sensation can very much leave you catatonic. You hear the rustle of the wind, the whispers of gleeful children, and life goes on normally. Scratches and dents heal, and the memories remain, but what wasn't peaceful before is in the grasp of the fading wind.*

*Living alone in a cabin, I'd often struggle to come by peace. How could I know peace when every other day, there was turmoil? New threats, nightmares to wake up, infinite lullabies with hidden demons, ghosts, and no God? Why have peace, when all that resided in my heart was a ghost town?*

*I thought it wouldn't be possible to have peace again. Initially, I was filled with fear, fighting every action by bending and diluting the dream world I had created. Only in a dream, and always in a nightmare, was I me.*

*I'd faced my own worst demons, and had a ex who's motives stemmed from lopsided evil and rotten chivalry. There'd be more to come, and I couldn't soften. Peace was not an option, and at any moment, I had to prepare for violence, knife in hand.*

*I suppose I was barking up the wrong tree a little bit. Peace did come. I found my peace, a lacuna that, for a few months, I took to relax. My stresses, leaving for greener pastures, and my dreams, brightening and clearing. It wasn't so black and dreary anymore.*

*Somewhere beyond the ashes were the skies, and they were a glimmering ocean blue. Far from the ocean I was, and yet I remembered key aspects of myself I had forgotten, dropped at the doorstep when I first fled from home. They returned, and I realized that, much as the survival aficionado I strived to be, I, too, had forgotten some of the greatest gifts I could be given.*

*Treat this chapter as an interlude. For now, it's a peaceful reverie away from what's to come later. This part of the story is probably the most mundane, but integral to understanding the events of the future. Take this with a grain of salt... and maybe several more.*

*In my reverie, I'd interact with my greatest ally again, but we were much different as we were akin. I was the fox, slinking around in its arms, evading and deceiving with a cackle from my lips... and it was the hound, who longed to play with me and balanced out our levels so we stood on even ground.*

*Just like a Pacific bleeding heart catching the sun, I let my heart blossom a little more... and in the end, I realized that the foxes and the hounds could blend in full, blossoming watercolor.*

Months after my journey began to middle school, when the sun hung high in the later summer sky, and when I was with my luminous flame, united and holy and *mostly* innocent as I could be, I had come to the end.

The end of the *school year*.

It was Friday, May the 20th, and what was late summer was now late *spring*. It had been a year to *remember* - and a year that reminded me, with a sour tang in the back of my throat, that had bequeathed nothing but *strife* to me. Rare gifts I scavenged and excavated. Bonds I reluctantly risked for survival. A periless loop of falling through a dream.

Going from fighting the school's infinite tests and chasms with obsidian love I'd vowed to protect, to being torn apart and slashed, turned from a studious, well-behaved, if not short-tempered student, the predator, to the *prey*. The *hunted*, who ran away and discarded her past, the past she promised to *forget*. It was only a mere *ache* to her now.

Nothing more than an *ache*. A *sting*. It was behind me, long behind me, and I refused to dwell on the events that brought me here. *Mostly*.

I guess you could suppose I was grateful I was *alive*. After all of that, being cut open by a sworn guardian, weaponized, forced to do enumerations at every corner to ensure survival, enduring nightmares and an ex wielding an *insatiable* hunger for revenge, gaining a way to earn food, water, and other things...

...I'd finally gotten *here*. *Here*, a place I thought was physically *impossible*. *Here*, the end of the trail.

I'd went on until I'd come to the end... and then I'd *stopped*. *Stopped* because I had *achieved it*.

Today was the last day of sixth grade. Need I monologue more?

Just four final exams, and then... the year would be *over*.

A steady kick returned to my heart, and beyond *giddy* to get this wrapped up - with a stark mental note of exercising my typical caution - I *charged* into Pineshadow Middle School for the last of the 2010-11 year.

There isn't really much to note here. If you've taken final exams at a Washington middle school, or at any middle school, for the most part, you know how it goes.

I scored well on all four of my exams, earning a ninety (HOW???) in Spanish and a perfect one hundred in history, the strongest class I had.

"Amazing work, Winter," Mr. Naecher praised as he handed the tests back, and I beamed, a victory star hidden under my sleeve. He always would be my favorite teacher, and this interaction all but cemented it.

Then, ten minutes later, *ring*.

*Riiing*.

Shot out of a cannon, I bolted out the door and flung myself down the stairs, slinking through the crowds and following the light emitting through the open glass doors to the *outside*.

To *freedom*.

*Sorry, Daniela, but you're not even getting the chance to harass me today!* I noted to myself with a brash streak of electric elation.

The sky was a *crystal* blue, not a cloud to be seen. *Pure* blue. The trees were vivid, bright greens, and I heard the distant call of a pine siskin - a call for me to return *home*.

My *true* home.

My heart pushed against my ribcage, galloping into a *rhythm*. An *excited* rhythm that intensified the more I looked at the pure blue sky...

Not just pure blue... but *ocean blue*.

The *ocean*. And suddenly, a wave crashed into my innermost depths.

I opened my eyes to see

My shadows dissolving in ocean's deep

I hadn't felt *this* in a *very* long time. This was a feeling lost to time, I had believed, a feeling I had last felt when I found *love*, and let that love wash over me.

Since then, it had lost its luster, turning from gold to pyrite, gold for a fool, in my hands. It didn't seem to ever want to return to me and encourage myself to *follow the rhythm*.

What I was feeling now, standing outside of school, free from the emotional burdens of sixth grade, was the *exact* feeling I had when first coming into contact with the playful, inquisitive Pacific Ocean at Heartbeat Point. That first time *awe*, first time *wonder*.

First taste of *freedom*. The youthful innocence wouldn't migrate back, but what I had felt *would*.

I'm getting swept off my feet

And pulled into the fading tide

Laughing, I jumped and sprinted toward my home, paying no mind to the flocks of students conversing. Daniela had been long-forgotten; if she'd been on the hunt for me, her luck was short. I didn't bother imagining how vexed she'd be, though.

I sped past students, weaved through the trees, and whistled upon reaching the crosswalk, looking both ways. Left, no cars. Right, no cars.

All green, good to go.

Ocean, come and save me

Take me away, far from this place

I leapt across the street, soaring with pronghorn-like speed, landing on the median, and then, slinking back into my true home, the Piney Woods. Atop the ridge that gave a good vantage point of the school, I waved, the breeze taking up my hair.

*Goodbye, PMS. Until we meet again,* I said silently to myself, presuming that my eyes were alight with adventure.

With that out of the way, the afternoon was *free to me* - and I knew exactly how I'd spend it.

Waves are crashing over my heart

I can't stop this feeling

Tapping into my heart's feelings, I ran, *zipped* around the Piney Woods, my feet leaving the ground and landing cleanly with every bounce and stride I made. The sights were a blur, and the trees closed in, but this wasn't at all *suffocating*.

It was *comforting*.

Winterlyn was back in business, baby, and she had a woods all to herself. Dare anybody come here to disrupt her *peace*, and she'd be the fox driving the hounds out of her turf.

I will be recovered before tomorrow

Running through the Piney Woods, exploding with *pride*, *endless passion*, and *joy*, I reminisced on five-year-old me doing this exact same thing many years ago at Heartbeat Point, where tiny, bare feet had met warm sand and the lapping, salty waves of the ocean, my imaginary friend none of my parents could see.

Now I was twelve, and I had the whole woods as my friend. It had protected me and given me a *home* - a place I could *always* call my home.

"Yippee!" I exclaimed, falling into a puddle of pine needles and flapping them about, rolling in them as I did every day to freshen up. Except now, it was out of happiness, not of desire to smell desirable.

I had *no worries*. Was this was Timon and Pumbaa felt living the *Hakuna Matata* philosophy in *Lion King*? Because I wasn't *worried*. I was *free*!

Free to do as I *wanted*. No school, no hiding (well, still in hiding, you get my point), no Daniela, just *peace*.

*Peace*. Finally, this beautiful *peace* had come... and I thought it never would again.

Peace did come, though. I had to work hard to *find it*, and then work just as hard to *earn it*. And earn it, I *had*.

Take me to the ocean

To the ocean

I'd survived *everything* the world had done to rue me and destroy me. Turns out this twelve-year-old was made of titanium and had reinforced guts, plus a creative dream-like world she could control with a snap of her fingers.

I was *unstoppable*. Confident. *Pulsing* with desire and passion that turned me from a gray painting into the painter, who painted the sky in hues of blue, pink, orange, purples... the possibilites were *endless*.

But on this day, the finest day of the year, as I stood in a small patch that allowed me to be encapsulated in the glow of the sun, I realized that I wasn't *alone* here.

Take me to the ocean

To the ocean

I heard a *buzz*. A *familiar* buzz. Then, out of the corner of my eye, a blur of brown, red, and white feathers. A *bzz*, the rapid flapping of *wings*.

I paused, and there, in front of me, almost touching me on my nose with his beak, was a young male rufous hummingbird.

One who *recognized me*.

The light from the winter sky

The moon is beginning to bring the tide

"**RUFIE**!" I yelped in surprise, but welcomed delight, and I held out my palm. He landed, glancing up at me with small black eyes. I'm not Snow White, but I could tell he *knew* me and was *happy* to see me.

Today's energy had impacted Rufie. Fate had twined us back together.

He was a hummingbird, and I a human, and we could definitely not understand each other's language... but we'd found *peace*. We had a common *bond*. Together, we'd live here, and with every blooming of the Pacific bleeding hearts, we'd meet again.

And all this time

I've been trying to heal alone

"Wanna check on the bleeding hearts, Rufie?" I asked, picking up my backpack, which I had placed on the ground near the pine needles. He flew up near my shoulder, a clear response of *yes*, and I took off running.

"Race ya there!"

The woods sped by in a blur again. Along the way, I knelt down, touching the many other patches of flowers, the tree trunks, the tall grasses, *everything*. What my hand felt was *mine*. All of this *treasure*, this *beauty*, was *mine*.

Ocean, come and save me

Take me away, far from this place

Mine and *Rufie's*. Rufie followed behind me, keeping pace with fluent buzzes and low chirps. We finally reached a patch of bleeding hearts, and I laid back beside them, catching the sun rays and studying the dapples on the tree branches, carefully blocking out the sun to do so.

Rufie pollenated the bleeding hearts, landing on my head and pecking at the edge of my scalp. "Rufie! Ah! That tickles!" I remarked, breaking out into a small giggle that Rufie reciprocated with a buzz.

I recognized a tree with three clustered branches. "Hey! The clearing! Let's go there!" I motioned for Rufie to follow me, again, and we dashed out together into the clearing, sunnier and sacred, in all of its preserved glory.

Waves are crashing over my heart

I can't stop this feeling

The feelings had welled in my heart, heavy and blooming. Their pollen was strong, and tinged with the ever-present passion and fortitude. A will to *live*. *Loving* being alive. Feelings I was miraculously feeling *again*.

I'd won this. I'd won *secrecy*. This was my *high*. There was no coming *down* from this, not in my wildest hellscape of a dream.

This was what Heartbeat Point was like when I was a naive little girl. Now I had newer and fresher memories to branch off on, and the world cleared a little. Things were as mellow as the ocean's waves, which I distantly imagined calling to me.

I will be recovered before tomorrow

I sat on a log, heaving in a deep breath, taking everything in. Taking in the *beauty*, the *rhythm*, how nature flowed and bent and whistled. How every leaf danced in the wind. How every animal was vital to the ecosystem.

Rufie perched on my shoulder, doing the same thing. I scratched him on the back of his head.

"We live in a beautiful place," I murmured. "Even more beautiful, since we have it all to ourselves."

When I was around, strangers wouldn't enter these woods. There was arcane magic two young figures sensed and guarded, wound around their hearts by fate. Only one of those figures had proven, with the turing test of time, that she was capable of holding up the end of her promises.

Daniela may have shattered her oath and bled the blood of darkness and hate, but I burned with *light*. The light of the sun that hovered over the ocean, and the light of the moon that brought the tide to shore.

I'd *done it*. For nearly a full year, I inhabited this place, not touched for many years, perfectly protected and shielded, and reinforced the magic with my own signature charm. I couldn't speak to a hummingbird, but we had a mutual friendship, one where we were the integral puzzle pieces to the ecosystem. Could it honestly be any sweeter?

Take me to the ocean

To the ocean

I got up, feeling building hunger in my stomach. It was lunch time, and I had enough to at least make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The huckleberries were in bloom as well, so I could pluck those for an additional side.

Remembering my route to the huckleberries, I walked over to them with Rufie, plucking the ripe ones and tasting the assortment. Sour and sweet, just the way it should be. I licked the juice off my lips contentfully.

Soon came the short walk back to the cabin and the broken tree, glistening in the sunlight, perfectly kept and tidy. Just the way it should be.

Take me to the ocean

To the ocean

I sighed, leaning up against the door and facing Rufie, who perched on my fingertip. "I'll see you soon, okay?" I told him. "Go on and protect the Piney Woods with your tiny heart. I have faith in you."

Rufie took that as his cue to leave, dipping his head and leaving with a *buzz*.

*Home sweet home*. I felt the brick walls of the cabin, my heart throbbing with more pride.

Take me to

The ocean blue

By all means, the Piney Woods and Heartbeat Point were two different ecosystems that functioned far differently. One was full of endless *water* and sand, and the other was a claustrophobic, tangled mess of rugged nature, moss, logs, and pine for the average Pineshadow resident.

But both had taught me valuable lessons and had given me a will to *live*. To follow that rhythm that *always* screamed in my heart.

The sky was ocean-blue, and was until the sunset that day, as I settled into my summer away from all stress and burdens. Peace was mine once more, and boy, I was ready to swim in its divine.

Take me to

The ocean blue

I did not realize that swimming in its divine would become stale after mere *weeks*.

Initially, I was *ecstatic* that school was over, and I spent my summer days jogging around the woods, slithering up the trees and perching on my lookout spots from the branches, observing the lazy Pineshadow summer and normal people, not ruffians and cabin boys and girls and gays and non-binary pals, and getting a laugh at how they never knew me or saw me.

I watered the flowers, splashed in the summer stream, leapt up to the roof of the cabin, and did my patrols at the edge of the Piney Woods, which bled out into the park, and the ridge that bled out to the dormant middle school. All was calm.

It was rejuvinating to be away from the rise and grind of school, from harm, from worries that I'd be discovered, imprisoned, and chucked into foster care, where I'd be in the heartless, calloused hands of "loving parents" and treated as a clownshow. A means to an end. An expense with a lifeless psychological facade.

I had a *pulse*. I had *life*. I was *on top of the world*.

Two weeks of my free routine in and out of the cabin, and there was already *another* problem.

I had less fun going outside. The view of the Piney Woods, pulchritudinous and mighty and majestic... was the *same thing*. In the *same sun*. In the same *weather*.

It was the *same*.

Days passed, and nothing *changed*. My routine was the same. *Same*. *Same*. *Same*.

An endless loop of nothing but the *same*.

There was a problem here. I wasn't feeling... *up* to exploring.

Wasn't feeling the mood to climb and adventure and scour and scan. That was... *plain*.

Wasn't feeling playing phone games, or listening to Varien. That was... *old*.

*Stale*.

*Boring*.

*I was bored beyond extensive belief*.

I wanted to slap myself on the wrists in those two weeks. Leave it to me to reconnect to my childhood rhythm and letting it run rampant inside of me, and then it fizzles out and I have nothing to do but the same mundane stuff.

I *needed* new hobbies. *Needed* something to do that broke the typical routine and gave me sustenance.

But there were *many* setbacks to *seeking* that sustenance and flavoring that had departed.

For starters... I was the only human inhabitant in the woods, and like I said, I'm not Snow White or Cinderella or any average Disney princess that could communicate with animals. Rufie was my friend and all, but he spoke hummingbird, and I speak flawless English.

I had *no friends* otherwise. Rex kept to her boundaries; she knew not to form a parasocial relationship and dig a hole she'd never ever escape from. She thought highly of me, but not *highly highly*.

The Piney Woods was my friend, but every interaction with nature was the same Plain Jane old thing. I would have aimed to make human friends, but...

And the big but...

...*no one could be trusted*.

I've covered this previously, but I will add with heavy diligence here: *never trust a soul you don't know*.

I could *never* trust again after Daniela plunged a knife through my heart, tore it out, left me to bleed and crack and dismantle under the weight of my heritage and Father's hand pinning me to the fireplace brick. Rex had been lucky and proven to be a valuable asset. No one else was *like* Rex, though. And if *anyone*, a meager *person*, found a way to break through me and figure out *everything* I had spent *tireless hours* to *conceal*, my game of survival would be *over*.

A bounty would be on my head. Vultures would circle. I would be *hunted*.

Anyone who wasn't me was a *threat*. People desired many things in life, riches, power, control, *anything*. If someone found me, it would be on *sight*, and I'd be forced into *foster care* and the most *depressing*, *bleakest* life I could ever imagine.

It was my responsibility to keep myself protected and secure. I didn't *want* friends. I didn't want *anyone*. Why should I? I could take care of myself and didn't need friends to thrive. People can be a hermit and succeed. Just *look* at me!

I was *wasting* my time sitting here with no solution to the boredom. Soon, summer would be over, and then- *that place would return*.

I didn't want to dwell on it right now. I *needed* a plan.

I spent more days laying on the floor, growling with frustration, pacing, just longing for *something* that would elicit that *spark* in me again. There had to be *entertainment* around here that was new, and fresh, and visually *pleasing*.

Even my own imagination was doing no favors. With boredom came burnout, and my waking dream was dry, crossed here and there with dust bunnies and tumbleweeds. Whatever I dreamed fell apart in my hands, the colorful visuals graying and mystical stars fizzling out.

Why couldn't something fun *just happen already*? I was losing my patience, and heaven *knows* if I didn't find anything soon, I'd punch a hole right through a tree that would then fall on my cabin and give me crippling migraines for the rest of my life.

Briefly, on a simple patrol, I'd come to the edge of the Piney Woods that mingled with the maw to Pinelake Park. The park was full of kids in the summertime, playing under and on the castles, sliding down the slides, swinging on the swingset, reading a book by the big oak tree.

They were having *fun*. They were *lucky*.

Yet, *how* could I step foot into the open and go to Pinelake's grounds ever again? The last time I was there, I had *just* ran away from a sinister home, a murderous father, and an apathetic ex-girlfriend. I ran away from *death*, *cheated it*, then sobbed myself to sleep underneath that big oak tree, then woke up the next morning and passed the park grounds before anyone reported me missing to the authorities.

Pinelake Park used to bring me so much *jubilee* in my youth. Father, a bitter pill to consume, taking me there, and I'd run around in my sundresses, climbing onto the swingsets, being pushed into the clouds, shouting below to him and sometimes Mom:

"Mommy! Daddy! I'm the queen of this castle!"

"Look at me, Daddy!"

"I love this place!"

Seeing Pinelake Park, quiet in the morning and bustling with children in the afternoon, made the melancholy settle in. Standing in the edge in shadow, where no one could notice me, I'd let the tears slide.

I missed *that*. I missed being innocent. I missed being a *normal kid*.

I wasn't normal. I was *robbed* of normal, and I'd never have that ever again.

I had to stop thinking about the *past*. None of it was worth it, and it only wasted *more* time.

I also stared with a heated yearning at my box - which I hadn't touched since the fateful November night - sitting on my shelf, acquiring dust. In there were *memories*.

*Powerful* memories.

Memories that had *bliss*, but also *pain*.

Because every single one of those ten memories contained *everything* I had lost. Everything that Daniela threw in flames that *she* stoked*. I lost* everything *in those pictures.*

Mom. Father. Daniela. Seeing the stars. Love. Death. Distraction. Pain. Glory. *Everything*.

I held it in my worn hands, tracing the silver etchings with the hope that they'd come alive like a human heartbeat. I was hoping to feel *something*. Something with *vigor*, of *fervent passion*.

It wasn't there. The exterior was just as lifeless and bored, and the blacksmith's craft had faltered with age.

On the interior, however, was a *different* story.

Was I ready to *face* the memories of my past? Hold them up and reflect on *each*, no matter the blow dealt or pain inflicted? Was this *worth it*?

My memories could give me an idea of what to *do* and where to find *clarity*... but they had a *price* attached to them.

Was I willing to pay that price?

Reluctantly, I slowly, shakily flipped up the metal latch, the coldness seeping into my fingertips. Gingerly, I raised up the top and stared in, feeling the edges of the photos and gently lifting up one.

A view of the Piney Woods. A rainbow shirt. A smiling young girl and her girlfriend.

Flooding memories of young love, haphazard promises, goofy shenanigans, and affection... tainted with *blood* and *betrayal*.

*Trauma*.

A strangled cry escaped my mouth, and I slammed the lid back down on my finger. A blade cut it wide open.

I *couldn't even do it*. I was a *coward*.

I couldn't stare at what was in there for a *second*. I was *not ready*.

Sucking on my tender, pink, irate finger, I shut the box's lid and then placed it back on the shelf, sinking back, eyes stinging. I dabbed at the tears and sat down.

I couldn't *stare* at those memories. They only reflected *trauma*. Everything I *lost*, *owned*, *destroyed*.

In there was *darkness*, and if I let it out, I'd collapse. I'd become *weak*. I'd *fall*.

The memories were too raw - and wouldn't give me ideas. I'd come to face them later, but now was an inappropriate time.

I put my past behind me. What was even the point, anyway, just staring at photos that would reopen my wounds and make me bleed out more trauma? *More* agony?

This wasn't the key to alleviating my boredom. I had to think outside the box and fight the burnout that came with having nothing to do.

I needed something *more*. Something that could be *real*. And I *hoped* it wouldn't take me bending over backwards and begging for a flashy entourage to satisfy me.

Turns out I didn't *need* an entourage... but help from a *hound* to help this fox expand her creative boundaries.

In the days that glumly followed, May transitioned into June. The temperatures warmed, heat beating down onto the leaves and onto my skin like the hit of a frying pan, and it was *very* welcoming. No more chills and cooling breeze, but the re-introduction of the warm breeze and the heat that signaled that summer - the *authentic* summer after school's over - was on its way.

Already, I was not looking forward to my summer, because this dumbass *still* didn't have a solution to solve her burnout and extensive boredom. And when your imagination, known to be boundless, creative, and utterly spellbinding is failing you... you're kinda in deep crap.

I was at my wit's end, and my continued pacing in the cabin, and struggles to brainstorm, were tiresome. My burnout was getting *worse*.

Yet, something *weathery* this way came... and I could taste it in the air, like a sour sap that reeked of earth and of rushing rapids.

Rain.

Oh son of a *gun*; if there's anything I desired less of at that moment, it was being holed in by *rain*.

Rain? It's crucial to the water cycle, believe me. Photosynthesis. Keeping your garden from becoming a tiny copy of the Mojave. Feeding life.

Rain wasn't an *escape* to boredom. Rain only *fueled* my burnout.

The gods had come to *smite me*, and they stuck their red-hot trident, forged from the reddest coals of hell, into my rear.

For the first week of June, *we got nothing but a downpour*.

Rain kept me cooped in, trapped in this closing box, with nothing to do and barely any cohesion holding me together. Pacing became frequent, as were the growls of vexation and fury at myself for not coming up with an ingenious, imaginative scenario I'd fall right back into.

The ground became a swamp. A bog. The birds were loving it, trudging in the sludge and plucking out earthworms, flying off with a treasure trove of free nutrition you wouldn't even get at Golden Corral (food poisoning flashbacks). They were having a *blast*.

Throwing a whole party *without me*. They *loved* the rain.

I *hated* the rain. Despised it, *loathed* it, loathed it each time my hair was infected with the chill of rainwater and plastered to my neck in uneven lumps that were a mess to brush back out, made my dyes loosen and drip, making for a painful effort to re-apply accordingly. I'd *only* ever stand out there for bathing, and even *that* was a complicated task at hand that it feels like having the flu to describe.

Therefore, the week, at the pace of a salted slug, went on. And on... and on...

The rain continued to fall. Rainwater formed puddles and soggy bogs in the Piney Woods. Going out was impossible, not unless I had a wish to be caked in mud and give myself skin lesions from having to overbathe and stay clean.

The seventh day of rain came, and it rained *hard*.

Winds blew. The trees groaned, pained from all of the ugly weather. My head hurt. I took two Advil gels and slunk in my blankets.

Hours came. Thunder boomed in the distance, warning of a greater threat, but I stopped caring. I just wanted to be knocked out, taken to heaven, somewhere where there was *play*. *Entertainment*.

Birds called. The sun set. The clouds darkened, angered at my disrespect. The moon did not shine, as it, too, was angry at my disrespect.

Nature was angry with me for my lack of tact. So be it. I didn't wanna be soaked; I just wanted a damn answer. Something *worthwhile*.

I swore to Varien's name, if I didn't get out of this cabin and find what I was questing for, I'd lose my sanity and start seeing the stars.

Eventually, late that night, I gave up and curled into my bed. If the gods wanted to curse me more for my insolence and infertile talent, they were welcome to zap me with lightning. I surrendered. What was the point? I was going to spend my whole summer bored, antsy, and paltry.

The lights tuned out. Darkness fell.

One hour later...

*CRACKOOM!*

I woke up to the startling sound of a *volcanic eruption*. A *massive* thunderclap shook the roof of the cabin, and a brief yellow flash consumed the dark interior. Lightning.

The roof began to rattle. Rattle like the tail of a rattlesnake. *Bonk*. *Bonk*. *Bonk*.

*CRACKOOM!*

*BAM!*

"A freaking thunderstorm? You've gotta be kidding me..." I muttered dejectedly, planting my face in the pillows, pulling my blankets over me, and scrunching my eyes shut.

Screw this. Screw everything. Varien, Mom, *someone*, give me *hope*. Give me the *light*. Anything but a pounding headache and the drums of a rainy war I wasn't even interested in fighting in.

Make me bored and make me sleepless. They *seriously* had it out for me.

My body must have surrendered again at some point, because I fell back asleep and woke up to *gloom*. Shadows were eating at the cabin, hanging off the windows and the corners. It was *dark*.

Strange... was it already going to rain for an *eighth* time?

I wasn't liking this feeling. I didn't hear the rain patter against the rooftop, or anything dripping, or any thunder. Didn't sense anything abnormal but this... *gloom*.

My heart was itching, and so was my skin. That was it. I had enough. I would have to stop quarreling with the rain and enjoy this brief period without it, because *I needed to breathe something outside*.

Quickly slinking into my day clothes and my boots, as well as making sure my pocket knife was stashed safely in my jeans, I opened up the door and walked into a wall of *silver*.

A *wide* wall of silver that was *transparent*. Nebelous, drifting onto my fingertips and swirling around them like mist.

This was *mist*. This was... *fog*.

Fog sometimes popped up when it was chilly in Pineshadow, and when I was younger, I'd stare at it, dumbfounded and fascinated. It made everything *spooky*, and when it came, it came without *any* warning. It was a massive *wall* you could walk right through, but could never see far in.

To navigate, you'd have to trust your *instincts*. Someone could use it to *ambush*. To *stalk*.

Gulping, I trod into it, unable to see anything in front of me. I pulled out my pocket knife. There could be a *threat*. An *enemy*. This was ideal condition for *hunting*, where I was *vulnerable* and *blind*.

I was a *fox*. Foxes were stealthy. This fox... well, she worked differently. She liked cover, but this was *too much* cover. Cover that was a weapon. This fog was the *hound*.

We clashed. We had differing motives. The fog wasn't permanent. It was a vagrant... like *me*.

The ground was muddy, slicked up against the bottom of my boots. I didn't know where I was walking, but as I progressed, the Piney Woods came into a crisper, unique focus.

The trees were *gray*. A darker silver that broke up the paleness of the fog. Not everything here was opaque as I feared.

I reached out to touch a tree, insinuating that *yes*, I wasn't dreaming, and *yes*, I was standing in fog in the Piney Woods. None of this was a dream.

The weather had cooled with the recent rain, and it was... *oddly relaxing*? This was *different*. I'd never taken a stroll through *fog* before.

I still kept my knife close beside me, a part of me deep within anticipating an *ambush*. For another fox to stake a claim to my territory, attack, and take me when I was trapped in this fog.

This fog was a *prison*, but not a well-guarded one, since you could *walk* right through it.

Then again... if I was *calculated* and *guarded*, the fog *could* provide me cover if I heard an enemy.

A branch snapped, but a swift glance down confirmed that it was me. Not a person here.

*No one lives in the Piney Woods but me...*

I had fog and a woods all to myself.

The fog was my cloak. I had my dagger. *Cloak and Dagger*.

"Varien," I whispered, the words joining with the nebula of mist. I remembered Varien's song, which I had acted out in real life countless times at school and in the woods to verify my safety. I crept low, recognizing a broken tree, and in the mist, a Pacific bleeding heart, its pink managing to shine through its silver blanket.

I was heading to the *clearing*. What would it be like there? Open grounds for an attack, or the centerpiece of this foggy... *contraption*?

Steadying my rhythm, I continued my preconceived steps in the direction of the clearing, parting the fog with my fingers. It felt... *cool*. *Soothing*. Like a breath of fresh air I didn't even have to gulp. It was damp, but the outlines of everything; damp, but a comfortable atmosphere... I was *liking this*.

Fog was *different*. It was okay to be *different*.

Fog was *alluring*.

And just like that, this fox and hound game ceased to a draw, and candlelight calibrated the gears in my brain.

No. Fog and I were one in the same. We were vagrants, though I had settled, and my adversary came and went. But fog, like I, had a mystique to it I hadn't yet seen in person.

It was *refreshing*, a *calm* after *heavy thunderstorms*. It eased the mind, posing a playful challenge: get lost in it, or find your way to creatively use it to your advantage.

My imagination roared to life, sputtering as if it were a newly-greased car engine, and with it, I got to work.

With my index finger, I traced *shapes* in the fog. Circles, triangles, squares, *every* shape I could think of and imagine out. I was making *symbols*. *Arcane* symbols.

Symbols crafted at the hands of the blacksmith, handed down to her apprentice, who in turn would carry on *her legacy*.

I had the powers of *Aether and Light* in my hands, which looked less calloused, but more scarred from work, effort, and survival.

The shapes lingered in the mist, attached to me, and with the rays of the sun stored in my fingertips, I ignited each.

Light roared to life in the fog, forming suns, moons, stars, lightning bolts. A *storm* of foggy proportions, one that brought peace, but *elation*.

*Yes!*

But that wasn't the last of the charm. I heard *barking*. The distinct *heeheehees* belonging to only one animal.

Weaving through the fog was the outline of a canine, a bushy tail wagging in the air with triumph and rounded eyes glazed over politely in greeting.

*A fox!* I wondered aloud.

He was not alone, however. *More* shapes swirled and came out the fog. Hummingbirds, my favorite, and several of them. *Four*, all of the species native to Washington, even the most rare species found in Pineshadow - the black-chinned hummingbird. I saw raccoons, nibbling at one too many berries in their mouths.

Owls, regal and majestic, flying over my head and hooting.

Deer and elk, trotting at the grasses and unearthing seeds of life that were previously shielded from view before.

A bear, flowing with the stars of the *Ursa Major* constellation.

*Everyone* had come to me, *danced* around me, and *led* me to dance around the clearing. The clouds parted up in the sky, and with the four hummingbirds perched on my shoulders, I peered up.

It was the *animal spirits*, waving to me. They shut their eyes. The sky glimmered.

Fog swirled around me now, dancing around my legs, snaking up my body, until I could feel a tickling sensation of each corner in my head.

Horns. Horns of an *ancestral being*.

I was *one of them*. A *deity*.

I was the blacksmith's apprentice. One who learned each of her teachings through the course of nature. I still had a way to go.

Nature had its quirks, and so did I. I found fault with some of nature... but there was a way to *understand* those faults.

I was bored, and suffered through the quicksand of burnout eating away at my flesh as I sunk. Yet nature had a gift for me, one I did not expect and did not understand.

It gave me *sustenance* through something I'd find as an encumbrance, a *puzzle* to work and put together.

The puzzle? Figuring out how to escape the block in my imagination.

The fog was the *hound*. It was the block. When I got *around* that block by realizing that it wasn't an *enemy*, but something I could *manipulate*, I was *free*.

Boredom and burnout? Dead to me. I had *new life* again.

I kept playing with the fog animals, immersing myself in this atmosphere as I had done for others countless times before, dreaming of spell circles and conjuring them to produce all sorts of effects, from light, to flowers blooming, to flames, to crackles of lightning. I was a *deity*. I was a *god*.

I was *blessed*.

Even when I snapped back to reality and the animals and deity horns and powers had left, the wisps of fog I had manipulated and parted and twirled around my fingers was still *swirling*, and the environment was *quiet*.

The fog had *protected me*.

There were still much I had to learn about nature, but what I learned today was *pivotal*.

Even when you face blocks in your imagination, burnout won't win - not unless you find a creative and unique way to approach your problems.

Maybe even having an unexpected friend help you in the process.

I was grateful to nature once again. Someday, I would pay it back in return.

From my excursion and interactions with the fog, my imagination had blossomed, the summer pollen and fever gripping my veins in a lock so tight my joke about seeing the *stars* might have just become reality.

My imagination spilled into the real world, paint dripping from the trees and mixing into colors, shades of pearl, red, blues, greens, and yellows. With a bit of magic, they flared, and another world within the world of the Piney Woods was created.

I had the power in my hands to dream this woods into what I had always viewed it as, with its hidden coves and dense foliage and small abundance of animals, from insects to avians and more.

It was a haven.

It was *magical*.

It was an *oracle*.

Your oracle, your oracle

Your oracle, let me be your oracle

The oracle wasn't just any woodland in Washington. It was a *sacred* haven, rich with magic and concealed by its average appearance in daylight. Beated down upon by the sun, which generously warmed the plants and triggered photosynthesis in the tiny, but mighty flowers, clawing up and up in desperation to grow. Clouds offered shade when the sun was too much, and rains and storms would come to rattle the ground, but provide key materials needed for growth to continue.

And at night, the oracle spread its wings and flew. Where I walked, there was this *beautiful* bright green glow around the trees, yellowish too. Lights strung up on thin branches above the trees, hanging down like the lights at the mall. They glowed like a nonstop festival, cheerful and bringing comfort and joy to the treetops.

Your oracle, your oracle

Your oracle, let me be your oracle

Further lighting the swirling brown paths in the woods, leading from gathering spots, secluded alcoves, and nature's divine was provided by the fireflies, which would sit atop my head and perch on the tree branches, singing a song that was just as honey-sweet and life-giving as Mom's childhood lullaby. It made me wipe a tear; they knew just where to strike me in my heart and make me feel at my safest and happiest.

The sky closed in, blue streaked with black and various constellations strung about in streaks of milky white and yellow. A painting that I ascended up to by leaping from branch to branch and then catching a stray cloud. From there, it was *ecstasy*, and I let myself be overwhelmed by the light of the night and the stars, drifting off to sleep.

(Let me be your oracle)

(Let me be, let me be your)

When I woke up, I'd gently float back down to the ground, and my dream would fade. The Piney Woods was normal again...

...to the outside eye. It opened up for me and me only, because I was the chosen one to feed the oracle, guard it, and expand it to encompass the whole woods.

Your oracle, your oracle

Your oracle, let me be your oracle

Whenever night fell, it was my duty to serve, and my third eye would open, detecting that all was melodic and peace. The creatures that lived in wooden houses or within cavities, protected. The animals, roaming as they pleased. Nature, all in balance and connected. Twined.

I held a lime-green orb in my hands, illuminating my palms with warm and light. Control filled my blood.

Your oracle, your oracle

Your oracle

Let me be, let me be your oracle

A buzz rung in my ears. Tiny feet perched on my shoulder, and a beak nuzzled my neck.

"Rufie."

He dipped his head in greeting. I couldn't act alone without my trusty companion.

Sitting in a bed of pine needles, I sighed, shut my eyes, and imagined nothing but the call of the woods. Harmony, sweetness, and the tartness, all merging into one...

And then the world *opened*.

The third eye blinked open, and here came the world that I, who saw all, and I, who knew all, could access.

(Let me be your)

I saw *daylight*, except this Piney Woods was *misty*. Full of mist to deter strangers, for these woods' sole occupant was meant for its oracle - the one who guarded and heralded it best.

See through your eyes

I see it now

Let it go

The taste in the air changed. It tasted of honey and huckleberries, sweet and tangy, both worlds merging.

It's not what it seems

It isn't real

Let it go

Day changed to sunset, where the woods went shadowy, streaked with pink, orange, and purple. The owl made its first call, luminescent and colored with the breeze of the twilight.

See through your eyes

I see it now

Let it go

Night fell, and out came the stars, not just white, but orange and yellow, twinkling and muddling the sky's colors into so many hues it made my eyes sparkle. Toads croaked, foxes barked, and the sky rattled with the slumbering presence of the *Ursa Major*.

It's not what it seems

It isn't real

Let it go

Day came again, but the sun was blocked by clouds. Thunder boomed, and lightning crackled. Torrents fell, but I was immune, protected by the orb I held in my hands. The woods hissed in approval of Mother Nature's eternal gift.

See through your eyes

I see it now

Let it go

The clouds faded at sunset, turning a dark purple. This time, the sky was just as vibrant as the orange and pinks on the lesbian flag, and I felt a bit of pride spurt in my heart. *There's always a way to find parallels in everything.*

It's not what it seems

It isn't real

Let it go

And when night came back, there were no stars, but the brightest light of all came from the full moon. A cry came from the mountains, the howl of the wolf, the mewl of a lynx, the growl of a mother black bear and her cubs, and the screech of the eagle. Everyone came out at night, where they could unite and share and mingle with the commoners.

See through your eyes

I see it now

Let it go

In a flash, my visions of day and night in the Piney Woods were over, and the realm seen by the third eye closed. I was back in the Piney Woods, sitting on the ground, Rufie having flown off. I was alone again, and my head spun like a basketball.

It's not what it seems

It isn't real

Let it go

*Whoa.* Relying on your imagination could prove to be something *special* and *wild*. I *loved* being wild.

I *loved* being lost here... and *lost* in my own imagination.

I had unlocked my truest potential, and I didn't care if it came with consequences or tired me out. I could dream of *anything I wanted* and make the world so much *better* and *trippier* and *prettier*.

I was doing what Mom had encouraged me to do: *follow my heart*.

My heart took me to the edge of the woods again and again, where I'd just stare somberly at Pinelake Park. Not much had changed from my previous musings. I still stood behind a tree, which was wide enough in width to hide me, and I'd hear and see the children romp around and cry and kick and sob and cheer.

They had fun, and I wanted to go back there, too...

But Pinelake was too much uncharted territory and a bridge too far out of my reach. It was too *open*. Too *risky*.

Going back there made an uncomfortable itch swell in my throat; it was smoky and made me want to cough.

Pinelake was an *integral* piece of my childhood, from when I was little, a preteen, and then a teen. I met the *former love of my life there*.

I met... *Dani*.

The itch *burned*, and I sunk to the ground, clutching myself and shivering.

*Dani*. Dani was *gone*. There was no Dani, only Daniela, and Daniela was a *nightmare*. She was a *bully*.

The person who loved me now *hated* me. She had no affection, and her words were venomous, spoken with repulsion and abhorrence.

Staring at Pinelake Park reminded me of who she *used to be*. Who *we* used to be. Who *I* used to be.

I *never* wanted to be the girl I used to be. That me was *weak*. I was stronger now. I'd moved on. I ran away from my past, and I wouldn't let it follow me.

I sighed. It was pointless being here when I wasn't going to cross the borderline in the dirt and go to Pinelake. Nothing could be found for me there. I'd just expose myself and uncover the trauma I *wanted* to stay buried ten feet under.

Yet, a part of me was *longing* to go back. A part of me was dead *convinced* there was *something* there I could find and adorn. But what? *What* was there?

*No, Winter. There's nothing. It's for everyone's own good to stay out of sight and out of mind,* I sternly huffed to myself, forcing myself to walk away.

While Pinelake Park had occupied my thoughts as of late, it wouldn't be long before nature took the steering wheel again - and in this installment, it had *another* earth-bending surprise in wait for me.

On a cloudier day, when Mother Nature had thrown her gray-veiled curtain over the ocean-blue sky and the sun, I took a calming walk through the woods, being sure to take a deep breath and then exhale. The trees rustled with a clatter in the wind, and pine needles fell to the ground.

Just as unbalanced as I was mere minutes ago. What had happened?

I tried. I tried to look in my box *again*, and the same exact thing happened: I was too much of a coward to face my ten memories.

They all... were a *reminder* of something. They *still* reminded me of everything I had lost and would never have for the rest of my pathetic existence.

I had no parents. I had no love of my life. I had no *normal*. I wasn't like all of the other kids, and not even in a way that was remotely quirky or funny.

I was *alone*. Fine with *being* alone. I *preferred* being alone, but equally much as I preferred it, I also missed company that literally wasn't just a hummingbird.

I wanted to confide in something. Reflect on what was *happy* and *quintessential* and *magical*. Think back to when life was perfect, when I was loved and cherished like any other girl my age. When I could feel skin brush up against mine, a gentle voice telling me I was okay and safe and that I'd grow up to be *phenomenal*.

However, I had *everything* stripped from me. The snake skin I had torn off me, leaving me naked, quaking. I had nowhere to *run* from the *knife*. Nowhere to run from the witch in a blue sweater. I could *hide*. I would *always* hide.

I could run. I would *always* run. It was what I did best.

Diving deep into the caves and grottos of my imagination had helped me visualize so much more in my dreams. It made Mom's words clearer and ever the more permanent. I could fly if I dreamed. I could be who I *wanted* in my dreams. In my *night* dreams and *waking* dreams, I was *pure*. *Whole*.

I *had* something to live for.

And if I was a demigod at dreaming... then why, in my wildest dreams, couldn't I hold *one single photograph* and *think*?

Why did I want to bury them in my gut where I'd never see them again? They were *special*. Except for the photo where I visited Mom's grave, they were *cheerful* memories. Important, never to be forgotten.

I had done a disservice to them being neglectful and not thinking back on their value. But I couldn't. I just... wasn't *ready*. I didn't know *how*.

So here I was now, taking a stroll to get my mind off of things. My head was decently rattled, and coming up with the ideal visual had been more difficult. My brain wasn't *focusing*.

*Relax... there's nothing out here. You're alone. Think,* I soothed myself, sitting on a log and facing the path that wound around the tall trees to the clearing.

Everything was eerily silent today. Shadows expanded from the passing clouds. I hoped they wouldn't try to nibble at my toes.

Deeply sighing, I imagined the sun hitting my back, imagined my conflicts being melted away. Pine overwhelmed my nostrils, made them flare with recognition, as if I hadn't trod in here for centuries. Pine needles crashed to the floor of the woods. A bird flew off a distant branch.

I thought back to my box and its delicate silver etchings, telling the tale Varien told in *Aether and Light* and its sides depicting the snowstorm I was born in. A soft day for a mind like mine to come into the world, grasp that first taste of hospital air...

Mom and Father, then Dad, were proud of me. Now both were gone.

Dani was proud of me. She was gone, and I felt my heart splinter with ice crystals thinking about all of the love I had lost.

I'd bled all of it. My box had that blood. Would it be a way to gain some of it back? Would it be enough to cauterize and heal the wound? Or would I go numb from all of the shock and pain tearing me back open in a twisted dichotomy of me?

This was a crossroads, and picking the right path was *impossible*.

"What am I gonna do...?" I muttered, deflating and planting my face in my palms, sinking into the warmth.

All of a sudden, I heard a *zip* and a *buzz*. *Buzz*.

I sat up, meeting the small black eyes of a small, colorful rufous hummingbird. A partial bit of the weight strung onto my back was lifted off.

"Hi, Rufie!" I managed to greet, holding out my finger for him to land on. He did so immediately, chirping, and he became more excited when I gently dabbed his head and back with my finger. He was so much like a cat when it came to affection - he loved me.

I wonder how much he knew about his own life.

"What do you think about memories? Do you dwell on them too?" I asked, knowing he wouldn't understand, but still maintaining the silly hope that he would.

Rufie let out a *chirp* and perched on my shoulder, tapping his feet and flying to the top of my head. He pecked at my hair and at my scalp, rooting through it as if he thought nectar was stored in me.

*I'm a flower now?* Bewildered, I laughed and stood up, but my feathery pal didn't get his beak out of my hair.

"Rufie, I'm not a flower! That tickles! You're throwing off my concentration," I teased, reaching my hand out toward him, and he finally flew out and landed back on it. I brought him down to my chest level, to which he glanced up at me.

Rufie probably *had* memories. Hummingbirds were fast, though, flying with the wind and never missing a heartbeat, so as to how much Rufie knew, it was a mystery.

He did appear to have frequent memories of me, or else, we wouldn't be as close as we were.

"Okay, you got me thinking..." I stated, curling a finger underneath my chin. "Maybe I should approach my memories step-by-step? One memory, every few days... or how about one memory every week?"

Tackling my memories step-by-step wasn't that bad of a plan. It'd be less stressful, and I wouldn't slip into a panic attack trying to do everything all at once. I needed to not run with the speed of a hummingbird, but at my own pace.

Rufie dipped his head up and down. I was not like him - I did not need to rush. Our hearts didn't beat at the same tempo, and we each lived separate lives whilst having several aspects in common.

As I continued to dwell, unbeknownst to me, the woods were darkening, cast over in a giant shadow. The clouds thickened, turning from gray to darker gray, and the winds picked up. It howled, whistled through the branches. Pine needles and dust kicked up nearby.

*Okay, step-by-step. When do I start? Where to begin...*

It hit me in a second.

*I'll start-*

*Splat*.

A drop of something *cold* splashed onto my nose, dripping down the bridge and off.

"Huh?" I whipped my head around.

*Splat*.

*Splat*.

*Splat*.

My skin prickled with the sensation of the freezing liquid, and my hairs stood up.

I, at last, noticed the dark sky and how *dark* the Piney Woods had gotten.

At once, I recoiled, shaking myself.

"Ugh! I forgot the forecast would call for rain today!" I huffed, self-consciously pulling the sleeves of my shirt, and I stared at Rufie, eyebrows creased with disdain. "I'm gonna go back home before I get soaked. Being drenched in rain is *not* a pleasant feeling."

The rain intensified, falling in trickles now, much to my irritation. But when I took a step towards the cabin, Rufie didn't move. He hovered in place, flitting left and right and catching the droplets as they fell and coated his feathers.

He opened his beak, catching a drop, and lowered his back, allowing his top feathers to be permeated with the rainwater. He was *dancing* in the rain. *Singing* in the rain with short, passionate little chirps. *Bathing*.

I halted, analyzing him with *curiosity*.

*He really likes the rain...*

My hairtips drooped down, and the leaves and pine needles became slick. I approached Rufie, and he eyed me, almost asking me, "Are you going to chicken out on the fun?"

"I don't see what's fun about this..." I said, begrudgingly refusing to become a chicken in front of my sole unofficial friend. I let the rain fall onto my back, running down my cheeks and through my hair, cold and sharp as ever.

I didn't like the rain. I never really liked it. It always made me feel *gross*.

But seeing Rufie vibe like I did upon hearing Varien made a realization leisurely arise in me, and that realization was driven by the rain's light downpour. Against my skin, it was *cold*. *Cold*, but... *refreshing*.

"Hey... that actually..." Drops kept tickling me, and I supressed a chuckle that I inwardly desired to let out.

"That actually feels... *calming*."

Without warning, my eyes *fully* opened, and a gateway to something I'd obscured for all of my life had unlocked.

This sensation, and this sudden happiness Rufie was experiencing and passing onto me... my beliefs over the years were *wrong*.

Walking through

Walking through the London streets

I... I was beginning to *like* the rain.

Every drop that sunk into my skin, and plopped into my hair, was *calming*, and I felt my shoulders pull down, slacking. Nothing was weighed on them, and I'd found peace. I was *placated*.

Feels as if I'm walking through a symphony

My stature didn't feel *heavy*. It was *calm*. Hearing the rain, feeling it, and being entertained by it, was bringing me down. I was coming down from a high horse of stubborn belief that *this* was supposed to make me feel shriveled and mushy.

How *terrible* was I for believing rain to be a negative influence? Rain was *beautiful*. Rufie's feathers shined from the rainfall, and he was bathed and clean. I hadn't bathed yet in the rain, but as I stood there, taking everything in, I didn't supress my chuckles anymore; guffaws took over the space, mingled with the chirps of a happy little hummingbird.

I don't mind

I don't really mind the rain

The Piney Woods hardly ever changed, but in the rainfall, it was like entering a portal to a dimension where there was peace, love, and *rain*. No death, no taxes, but serenity and *rain*. Rain was *serene*.

Pouring down my back, sticking my clothes and hair to me, I felt my worries about the box wash away with the fall. Rain gave *life*. *Purpose*. *Reasoning*. Need I worry so much when all I needed was here with me?

It washes away everything from yesterday

Peering up, I found the trees to be *waterfalls*. Water, gorgeous and crystal, cascading from branch to branch, soaking the leaves and bouncing down, and down, tugged by gravity. *Drip*, *drip*, *drip*.

*How*? How had I not seen this *beauty*!? This *melody* and *harmony* of nature and weather, coexisting? The trees were *shining*. They were getting *vitality*. They'd keep growing for *years* to come thanks to the rain.

And it's in my blood

And it's in my heart

I cannot explain how I'm so inspired

The flowers and grasses were decorated with fresh dew, which I kneeled down to feel, and it was just as soothing as the falling rain. They sparkled, and I felt their wet edges, in love with the soft touch and delicacy of everything.

"I've never seen anything like this..." Rufie chirped nearby, now positioned above a bleeding heart that was plunging toward the ground, pushed down by the force of the water.

And I don't want to leave

I feel right at home

But I am all alone

The things you could observe at so many different angles and learn when put in a new perspective was *perplexing*.

The Piney Woods - no, the *rain* - was only amplifying why I *loved* being lost within these woods. This was *home*, because it provided me beauty not seen elsewhere. Home, because it *taught* me, *mentored* me, and fostered my growth through nature's blessings and a creative depth of field.

And the rain falls

I was alone here, and being alone was a testament to my own courage. Living alone sucked, but living alone *suited me*. I was reclusive. Being reclusive was my thing. The woods gave me a shield, a crutch to hold me up when everything unraveled all around me. Here was my *forever* home, and I had grown to *love it*.

I hadn't yet seen everything, and coming in close contact with the rain was one of those examples. I had learned my lesson, and now, literally, I wanted to be *drenched* in that lesson.

And the rain falls

Leaving Rufie to pollenate and bathe, I gallivanted through the woods, allowing the rain running down the trees to rapidly splash on my head. I held onto a tree, swung out, and waved to the distant trees ahead, laughing. This was a day worth *singing* in the *rain* for (though I don't sing, it has *never* been a talent of mine).

Sucking in a piney breath, I stuck my tongue out, child-like glee filling me like the rain filled the trees and leaves with water, and I let the rainwater drip into my mouth. It tasted *sweet* and *pure*, *godly*.

Walking through

Walking through a symphony

I craned my ears, listening to the rain pattering against the rocks and trees, and my heart slowed, matching to the rain's gradual fall. Delicate drops, landing on the ground, turning the coarse dirt to mud that rubbed against my boots. That was perfectly alright.

Rain was a blessing from the heavens. What would I be to ignore its charm? Me, ignore a *tenant* of *nature*? Nature, something that had defined me for *years* and helped me understand the earth and the relations around me?

Searching for something of a mystery

I'd *never* ignore this. I was rash and impulsive - I owed my spirit to the rain for treating it with false judgment all these years.

I let myself fall to the ground, let my hands grow muddy and clammy. The soil was *smooth*, and I traced shapes in it. Flowers, Varien's symbols, and the initials of my name.

I don't mind

I don't really mind the rain

The ground would bear my name for a short while, mark my presence here. I had done it courtesy of the rain.

"Thank you!" I shouted up to it, a smile curving onto my lips. And there was *still* so much more I had to enact while it was still raining!

It washes away everything from yesterday

By now, the rain had transitioned from a drizzle to a downpour, and I, for one, couldn't be more *enamored*. I stood in the open gaps of the trees, feeling my body grow slick and stained, yet *cleansed*, by the cold torrents of rain. *Everything* was melting away from me. I wasn't *worried*.

I wasn't *concerned*. I wasn't *stressed*. I had nothing to think about but the *peace* and *beauty* of it all, of what I had missed for so many years. It made the butterflies fly around in my stomach, and it made my skin itch for *adventure*.

And the river flows

Along with my beliefs

To the northern sea

My walk turned into a skip, and I felt my footsteps guiding me to the muddy edge of the small brook that ran through the woods. It was *flowing* now, bursting with life at the banks from all of the rainwater. My fingers broke up the stream, and the cool water rushed against my tips.

Flowing. Quaint. *Serenity*.

I'll keep looking east

And I'll have to leave

So I want to make sure

Leaves fell, jolted off the trees by the wind, which carried the rain southeast. Everything was falling into place. *This* was it. *This* was *satisfying*.

I was always *wrong* about the rain. It wasn't uncomfortable or stifling. It made us wet and sticky, but wasn't that all part of the *fun*? The fun I'd chosen to *miss* because of pigheaded youth?

That there will be a cure

The downpour was turning the mud into puddles, and with a wry, foxy smile, I got an idea a twelve-year-old would not typically embrace.

Snorting, I jumped from mud puddle to mud puddle. *Splash*! Mud dug into my boots, turning them half-black and half-brown. I didn't care; besides, I'd wash them off in the brook tomorrow. Today was for *fun*. Tomorrow, back to work when the rainy day break was over.

And the rain falls

Wow. *Wow*. This was *brilliant*! The rain gave me something *special*. A memory that should have fit right in my youth... but was shrouded and never blossomed to its true potential.

But it was *never* too late to live that dream, and I kept living it as the rain fell, harder and harder, until all I heard was rain. Rain, rain, I didn't want it to go away.

And the rain falls

Bumbling, I ran towards the clearing as fast as I could, sliding through the mud and slippery pine needles and losing my balance, tumbling into my sacred space and rolling in the mud.

I was at a loss for words, only answering for my giddiness by croaking and laughing. Drops stung my eyes, making them shut, but I was enjoying this. I didn't give a damn! This was *amazing*!

And the rain, it falls

I felt a shiver, and so I rose to my feet. I'd have to go back to the cabin soon, because as much as I enjoyed my newfound source of fun and interaction with nature, the rain would make me sick with its nature. My body temperature had already fallen with how the warm air had turned into a chill.

My thoughts expanded. The rain had taught me much, and took away much of what was mostly a recurring ache... but what was *next* for me? Had I discovered all I needed to know for the summer?

What is this all leading to now?

When I'm in these four walls

I just want to be alone

Rufie reappeared out of the corner of my eye, not seeing me at the entrance to the clearing, staring up at the sky and expecting to be the enlightened one, but Mother Nature was busy with the rain, and the sun was away. It wasn't its time to shine, but for the rain to prevail and give *life*.

Rain was essential for *life*. For *everything*. I should've made the connection sooner and established a bond with the rain. Yet the rain didn't seem to hate me for my errors. It appreciated me.

But it's all so beautiful

It's so beautiful to me

The rain soothed my skin, rinsed out my eyes, made me relax and forget the plague of trauma and pain. It gave the flowers and plants a will to march on and live.

It was *beautiful*. So *beautiful*. I couldn't stop repeating it.

Will we let it all fall?

Or lead towards the dawn?

I can feel it in my lungs

I shivered, feeling frigid, and I ran the rest of the way to the cabin, slipping and skidding through the messy ground. I felt it my lungs, wide with conviction and a fresh desire to *live*.

Being *alive*. *Enjoying* the randomess and pecuiliar nature of... *nature*. Learning to *accept* and *grow* from old stigmas, old ways, and adapting to new environments.

The air was cleaner and healthier, and I could feel it with every intake of breath. The run to the cabin was brief, and when I came inside, I changed into my pajamas and snuggled into my blankets, staring with a carton of milk at the rain outside.

It wouldn't let up for hours, but it did me a favor and lulled me into one of the most peaceful afternoon naps I had in a *very* long time.

Thank you, dear friend.

From June came the hottest month in Washington, July; the night sky blazed with powerful *pops* and *crackles* of fireworks and rockets, and the air was smoky from the barbecues fired up on the grill. I could taste the barbecue on my tongue, scent it by how it was wafted toward me by the summer breeze.

What I'd give to have barbecue if I actually bothered to be sophisticated.

The temperatures shot through the roof, and even with the mountain air providing some alleviation from the sweltering heat, I was holed into the cabin once more. Shade in the Piney Woods was aplenty, but it wasn't long before the air grew thick and muggy and it was difficult as *hell* to breathe.

Rufie didn't pay many visits, and I presume he migrated to where it was cool. Hummingbirds didn't do well in the scorching heat, and I couldn't blame him for staying away.

As I didn't go outside that much, and if you know me from these nine chapters so far... I honestly don't have much to describe for July. I just relied on my phone and my outside view whlist making sure I wouldn't burn to a crisp and overheat.

The other animals fared no better than I did. Unfortunately, it's not a huge desert, and I did see several animals meet their grisly ends, plucked at by several turkey vultures who had much anticipated a quick dinner.

Nights were spent sleepless from the popping of fireworks. Days were spent idly wrapped in shade, watching the children play and lick at ice cream and popsicles. The days were slow, sweaty, and had the lightest hint of childish games.

Most of July flew by before I had even known it... and then it was late July. *Late* July.

It was a matter of weeks before I made the pilgrimage back to *school*.

*School*. Dread was mixed into the saliva under my tongue.

I hadn't put much thought into school and seventh grade all summer. I hadn't thought about going *back*. I hadn't thought or speculated about what would await me when I went through those glass doors and stood under the dome, thinking that everything was all just a *dream*.

I'd see Rex again - but I'd also see Daniela. Would Daniela keep at her vengeful game, or would she finally live and let die and move on? I had my doubts, and thinking about her now made an uneasy feeling well in my stomach.

I knew I had to go back. The cycle had to continue, and my life would be a perilous, reckless one. Nothing ever truly would change in my school routine.

I'd spent all of summer relaxing, finding peace, quiet, and more importantly, *no conflict*. Did I say being alone had its perks? Let me underline that in red Sharpie for a second time.

However, things were going to transform in *weeks*. I had *weeks* to prepare for the walk down the ridge, through the woods, and back to PMS. Weeks to check my bases, hone in on my skills, prepare to be *out of sight and out of mind*. Time was of the *essence*, and not a grain of it could be wasted any longer.

It was time to *train*.

It was the second-to-last week of July and a picturesque, *drop-dead gorgeous* flaming sunset where I set out of the cabin, armed with my knife and heading to the clearing where I trained shortly after my horrific run-ins with Daniela. It was darkening with the sinking of the sun - perfect timing for the enemy to come out and jump me.

I didn't see the shadow seekers or their malignant scarlet eyes seeking to hunt me. Cowards! Were you gonna give me a fight or what?

Then, all of a sudden, I heard a *screech*. A screech that was *unlike* any human screech.

And looking up, I knew what was going to *hunt me* in this war.

Been wearing life like it's a noose around my neck

Hunting vultures as they fly

*Vultures*, their heads pink, bald, and cracked from years of scars and starvation, circling above my head in a massive wake that blocked out the sunset. Their eyes were *on* me - I was a *juicy* piece of prey.

They didn't do their bidding for Daniela, but they had wanted to stake a claim in the woods for themselves, and in order to do that, they'd have to eliminate the one person defending her territory through thick and thin.

Their beaks were open, waiting for the first nick of blood. For the first kill. For the feast my carcass would make.

Every spring, a flower blossoms in my hand

And every winter time it dies

I gripped the handle of my pocket knife and stared up with a snarl, imposing a challenge: try to take these woods, and you'd fall.

Vultures flew in wait of an easy meal. They wanted me *weak*. *Unprepared*. *Uncalculated*.

If they pinned me down, I'd never get back up. They'd mob me until I'd suffocate, knife on the ground floor, hands splayed out, spread-eagle, plucking the skin and reducing me to bones and rotting flesh.

I've become the hunted

I've become the hunted

A threat lingered in the air, not resting even with the setting sun. My shoulders tensed, and I continued to meticulously scan the sky. More vultures joined the wake.

Their eyes shined *red*. A *devilish* red. A red that'd make your skin crawl.

My skin didn't crawl. The vultures didn't know that the *hunted* was about to become the *hunter*.

I've become the hunted

I've become the hunted, the hunted, the hunted

I launched into my battle stance, legs spread apart, arms apart, knife firmly clutched, eyes to the sky, alert, focused, and ready. Sharply, I inhaled, and the crisp pine flooded my naturals.

My home was on the line again. My time was now to rise up, defend, and strike these vultures in their gluttonous hearts.

Confidence bubbled in my heart, and so did determination. *Desire*. Strength, and *heart*.

Armed with a weapon, I was formidable. I wasn't going to choke on the dirt, give up, and die. Who said I gave up? The naysayers.

The vultures.

I was ready to turn some tables and reclaim what was *rightfully mine*.

My heart was kicking, the adrenaline *flowing*. The damn blocking the river was *free*. Fire *burned*. My eyes caught the vultures diving at me.

And I was freaking ready to *tear their heads off*.

With a lunge, I slashed into one's chest, and *poof*, it was gone. Bingo! There was furious squawking, and wings battered my face. Beaks dug into my skin, but I wasn't fazed for a split second by the pain.

"*Begone*!" I hissed, wreching my cheekbones free and stabbing a vulture right in the eye. Knife back out, into the heart of another and slashing the throat of yet another. Gone, gone, *gone*.

Adrenaline surged in me, coating my insides with *energy*. It busted and exploded, and I was *unstoppable*.

Vulture after vulture went down and died. They were persistent, but with every slash, stab, impalement, and gash opened in their feathers and heads, I could see those red eyes glitter with *fear*.

Oh yes, *you should be goddamn scared of me*.

I'm gonna press my frantic hand against your chest

Just to feel your beating heart

I had just finished off another vulture when I saw more attempt to dive-bomb me, but swiftly, I broke into a run, sprinting and weaving through the trees.

One nipped at my nape, and my response was a knife to the neck, tearing it vertically from beak to chest. *Banished*.

I turned to face them, slitting and cutting until they all fizzled out, one by one. There were only ten vultures left, looking for me in and around the treetops. Their easy meal wasn't looking so easy anymore.

But soon I want vital systems to connect

Our universe follows two paths

"Ha! You thought that I was weak after a lazy summer? That's why you should ***NEVER*** underestimate me!" I bellowed, soaring into the air and cutting the head of a blackened vulture clean off. He didn't even feel a thing out of my cunning craft.

The *hunter* was in session, and with the adrenaline rush and sweat and the sheer *authority* in my move, I knew I hadn't lost my groove at all. Summer may have been kind, and I was well-rested, but school was gonna be tough, and I *had* to be *tough*.

I was still fortified and *deadly*. While I'd never use such an amount of force, even if I'd be pressured by someone like Daniela, I *loved* exhibiting my raw power in secrecy. I was *capable* of harm, capable of *anything*. I was a *renegade*!

I've become the hunted

I've become the hunted

Swiftly, I finished off two vultures, their feathers falling to the ground. One pecked at my head, but with a punch and a knife blow, it had evaporated.

The massive wake that was in my presence five minutes ago? Reduced to one measely, sickly vulture who looked more terrified than hungry. He would starve tonight for attempting to take my homeland.

"Piss off, or I'm going to *grant you* a fate **worse than starvation**, you *scavenger*," I growled. He got his message and flew the frick off.

I've become the hunted

I've become the hunted, the hunted, the hunted

The war was over in ten minutes, the last of my imagination dissapating, and I wiped the sweat off my forehead. The sunset was almost gone, the last scraps of pink transitioning to purple. I watched it, breath coming in rasps, knife clutched in hand.

The vultures wouldn't be back to feast on me, or the woods, or any inhabitants here. I was *ready*.

I was ready to face school and Daniela again. The sun was setting, and with a few more rises and sets, I'd be back in the classroom with another year of pain and staying out of sight.

The year would be messy and an uneven climb. An uneven battle, always fought, never ending. But I had my essentials. I had a blazing hot temper. I didn't need friends or alliances when I could *fight* for *myself*.

I was going to *prevail*.

*I'm ready,* I told myself, chest puffed with conviction. *I'm ready*.

The last of the sunset disappeared behind the mountains, and I let the night cloak me, exhaling an exhausted, but prideful breath in peace.

Those weeks came and went, flying by fast, and at times, I'd lost track of time.

August came, the temperatures dropping but still at their hottest, the sun hammering the earth with heat. Sunburns were all too common, and so was the mistake of children stepping onto concrete barefoot. Youch.

School orientation happened, but I was not in attendance. I would have gone, but problem was, you had to attend with a parent or guardian... my mother was *dead*, and my father's corpse was decaying in *prison*, as it should have been. Children without a guardian would be questioned, and then would come the police, and then my life would be *over*.

I hated thinking about these things. It made me feel lightheded and shaky. I'd just fought and channeled my anger weeks prior, and my stress was spiking. Doubt couldn't be deterred. Would I be found out? Would Rex stay true to her promise of protecting me? What was Daniela planning if she *hadn't* let her animosity go?

There were so many questions that were lacking answers. It was daunting, waking up knowing that I was nearing closer and closer to the day. The *first day*.

*Seventh grade*. Another year of middle school with one more to go. I'd sacrificed so much just to avoid prematurely dying in sixth grade. Lying, facading, hiding. Personal freedom, a figment of the past. Lost in the ancient ruins.

I'd grown and changed - but would it be enough to carry me through the school year?

My stresses increased as the last of July turned into August. The first week passed in August.

The alarm clock on my phone hit me in the forehead at 7:00.

I blinked open my eyes. The sky was pink, and dawn was approaching.

The dawn of a new era. The dawn of a new school year.

New challenges. New faces. Familiar faces. The same old routine.

Pineshadow always changed, but who I was wouldn't.

I prepared my school things, grabbed my backpack, and set out, solemnly waving to my cabin. I'd miss its company in the hours I'd be away, in a different building, out of my comfort zone, in silent hiding but obedient.

Now, my journey alone began for the second year in a row, and the walk was slow, motion reduced. It would be a long walk to school - and a lot of things had swamped my mind.

Every minute was an hour

I told myself, "In a moment you'll depart"

I didn't know what I would be walking into when the school's doors shut behind me. Leadership hadn't changed, and Rex was still at the helm. Her tenure as principal was a strenious one, in part due to Daniela's antics and radical, aggressive methods of maintaining her iron overturning of the rules.

Guilt then stabbed at the bottom of my heart. Rex's tenure was so stressful and tight-worked because of *me*, too. She'd sacrificed so much and *even bent the law* for *me*. She *cared* for me, and not counting Rufie, was the only living being I could consider an *ally*.

*Am I a burden to Rex?* She'd have to get back to work protecting me, personally checking off my report cards with Steph's name again. Altering attendance records. Lying to *police* for me. I sure as much caused her as much stress as Daniela did...

I could see into the mind

I told myself, "Move yourself into the heart"

...but then I remembered that Rex was *willing herself* to do this for *me*. She was sagacious. She had perseverance. Daniela lent her a great deal of pain, but she had someone she was fond of in *me*.

The way she looked at me, comforted me, and respected my boundaries... she wasn't Mom, but Rex *did* feel like a mother figure to me. She was trying.

I wasn't a burden. One thought cleared, more to process.

Until the sun comes

Up and over the horizon

The sun was steadily rising, filling the woods with an orange-pink glow. Time was slow, moving at its own pace, and every step of mine felt like an hour had passed. I didn't care.

Moving to my next thought, I pondered about Daniela, the one who destroyed my life and got me here in the first place. A familiar shudder traveled down my spine, and I gritted my teeth.

Half of me *still missed* the old her. I missed the loving, the genuine honesty, the silly, yet amiable and intelligent personality who made me glow like a firefly in the dark. She held me in my sadness, showed me a world in the Piney Woods, and had so much up her sleeve.

The sun will bring me to life

And I will find my way home

That was gone now, and the jagged edges of her betrayal cut in, re-opening the scars of before.

I didn't freeze or panic, just thought, the pain wracking my body.

She traumatized me. *Ruined my life*. I'd never, *ever*, forgive her.

All I could hope for was the dream that she'd surrender and leave me *alone*. Be the star pupil and incredible young person she used to be. It was a dream I could grab with my fingers, but chose not to imagine.

If Daniela changed, maybe the year would be bittersweet. Doubt made me sit on the fence, however.

I could hear a voice above

And I was told, "In a moment you will fly"

The next thought on my mind was classes. We had to receive our rosters in the gym this time (the sixth graders had to get theirs near the dome, just like last year), and I wasn't sure what to expect. Would I still have the same classes and electives as last year? Would I join the pre-AP classes and lose every last brain cell solving unanswerable questions?

I wasn't as nearly smart as Daniela, per se, but I made up for that in strength and willpower. I could *fly*. I had *imagination*. *Creativity*. Any situation proposed, I'd find a way around.

Things were bound to get difficult, but I wasn't sure *how* difficult lessons would be. I'd have to get through them, though, to escape PMS and return home, where the cabin would protect me.

I could feel myself begin

To fall apart

In a prison of the mind

The sun was halfway visible through the trees. I'd gotten halfway through the woods, passing a huckleberry bush and a patch of common yarrow, tinted orange. I took another long, deep breath.

What would everyone think of *me* come the beginning of the semester? I tried to be vague so no one would question me, *prod* me, and make me plummet into a trap. I was odd, smelled of pine trees every damn day, and was unusually mute. Would that raise a red flag? Would students old and new have the balls to interrogate me and surrender me to someone who *wasn't* Rex?

Until the sun comes

Up and over the horizon

My fingers clenched into a fist. I'd been through *enough* of persecution for my appearance, being told I had to be *this* and *that* and to obey religion. Obey the common denomenator, the *norm*, *conform*. Conforming wasn't in my blood.

My pace slowed even more, or was that time playing a trick on me? My thoughts were springing up like Windows error messages, and I couldn't shake them loose. I breathed. No, none of this on a school day. Breathe.

Calm settled over me in a second, aided by the warmth of the morning sun rising over the horizon. I had to go on. I couldn't turn back and risk refusing school. It was my *duty* to appear today, and to not do so would be disgraceful.

The sun will bring me to life

And I will find my way home

A tug in the back of my chest made me turn with brief longing, my eyes looking past the trees trying to make out the cabin, but I couldn't see it anymore. I *wanted* to stay home and be snug in my blankets, happy as a panda, but I couldn't.

I had *responsibilities* that I couldn't *ignore*. Keeping up appearances at school was *necessary*.

*Don't be rash. You have to do this even if you absolutely hate it.*

What I would give to have a nightmare

When will this lullaby end?

The chiding got me going little by little, step by step. Right now, I was either walking into a hidden heaven, or a nightmare even more ghoulish than the last school year.

I wasn't a prophet; knowing how the year would play out was not my destiny. I had to find out on my own without help, and that alone sounded like a petrified, shattered dream.

This would only end when I completed my middle school year. Or would it ever end, when I constantly faced threats, challenges, and issues that no one but me could solve and banish?

When will this lullaby end?

The sun was almost fully up and over the horizon right now, and I was almost at the ridge. Through the gaps, I saw the road, the cars whizzing by, and the busy turn-in to PMS. In a contrast to last year, Rex wasn't going to give a speech to her pupils, as kids walked in and out, not a mass crowd to be seen.

That gave me a benefit: no crowds equalled less suspicion. I had cover and had to utilize it.

Reaching the ridge, I paused with a hand on my backpack strap, gazing out at PMS. The foggy mountains, far away, were a rocky crown towering above the school, whose brown bricks were painted reds, pinks, and oranges from the rising sun.

In there was *discord*. *Chaos*. *Passion*. Interludes where I could find *peace* like a diamond in the rough. I had someone backing me.

Everyone else was a *stranger*. Strangers were just fine with me.

I didn't need anyone's company to stand on my own two feet.

Did I live in a dream? Yes. Did I live alone? Yes. Would I face obstacles, snakes, thrown hands, and fights at PMS? Hell yes.

The sun rose every day, and I rose every day. When the sun set, I would set and rest and prepare for the next day.

The cycle was unbroken, and I was unbroken. I may have not known what I would duel and tussle with in seventh grade, but as the sun *finally* rose above the horizon and outlined all of Pineshadow in the holy light, I whispered to myself:

"The sun will rise again."

Until the sun comes

Up and over the horizon

Determinedly, I stepped down the ridge, steadfast so as to not trip, and made my approach toward Pineshadow Middle School. I made the crosswalk effortlessly, then stepped onto the sidewalk leading towards the front entrance.

I was far away from home now, but I'd stopped feeling homesick, stopped begging to go back or for no more nightmares to happen. I'd just have to accept my fate and make provisions for what I could turn out to lack.

I had to remember I wasn't *fully* by myself, for Rex would be there when I needed her. She guided me in the correct direction once, and I could trust her to do the same for me again.

The sun will bring me to life

And I will find my way home

As for Daniela, I didn't know if her behavior had shifted. Had she realized her errors, changed, and make an effort to apologize to me, at least make amends to the point where I'd be lenient? Or would she never change and have a thousand more vendettas tucked under the bright blue of her sweater?

I made a bet on the latter - those amber eyes always burned with a dancing hellfire last year.

People would judge me. People would have silent opinions on me.

What I would give to have a nightmare

When will this lullaby end?

But their opinions were *invalid* - the only person who could judge me was *me*. And I was rock-solid the way I was.

My doubts were melted away by the rising sun, and the blues were beginning to take ahold of the sky. I would wake up, make the walk, go into school, and come out relatively unscathed. I couldn't pick my future, and my imaginations were wild and fictuous... but I still had *strength*. *Tenacity*.

I lost everything, but made a new *something*. A home I could be proud of.

When will this lullaby end?

Seasons changed. I was the fox, barking at night and laughing at how people were too clueless to realize who I was, too dumb to realize my stealth. I was clever.

Everyone not me? The hounds. We could get along, but that would be *dangerous chemistry*. I wasn't like the commoners and Pineshadow residents. We were meant to be apart.

I stared up at PMS, letting myself half-smile. I'd hate being slumped in eight different classes all day long, but survival was always hardcore. I'd have to improve to settle scores and keep what I had afloat.

Another year, another day. What did I have to sacrifice?

"We meet again, PMS," I greeted under my breath, and at last, I headed inside, the glass doors slamming behind me.

This year had potential. What would it bring? That I could only find out for myself.

Little did I realize that a *toxic* vendetta was taking flight - and I was unsuspecting of an underlying motive - one that was going to rear my name in *infamy*.

Peace is a prize possession that can be found through the longest of droughts, the endless wars, and the most tense of mental dilemmas.

Sometimes, peace comes naturally, held in the palm of your hand or flying to you in the wind. Other times, you have to quest for it, and *earn it*.

Peace refreshes the mind. Peace makes two sides halt their conflicts and come to an agreement. Peace and love is groovy, but it's also fundamental to a stable society.

I'm glad I found peace in the break from school. That peace taught me to befriend what I thought I couldn't, *experiment* and *grow* to like things I thought I'd never understand. The reward was *everything*.

I'd learned more details about nature, understood even more. I gained understanding. Understood *diffrences*. Understood *functions*. That even with the peace, I didn't lose my stoic, blunt front, or the anger that was buried deep within me, rising like hot lava when I needed it to cover me.

With the peace, I was ready to take on the school year once again. I didn't get my hopes up - optimism is dead when there's a constant danger painted on your temple - but I had something worth fighting for: *my inner peace*.

But that inner piece was constructed of glass, and when broken by an ambush I never, never, *ever* expected to play out, I turned from the hunter to the butt of one of mankind's *cruelest* jokes.

And what was initially uttered as a cruel joke became a *sickening* fuel to a *fire*.

## Cast

* **Mae Whitman** as Winter
	+ **Hala Finley** as young Winter (voice only)
* **Rob Wiethoff** as Mr. Naecher

## Songs

* WRLD - *Ocean Blue* (ft. Laura Brehm)
* Varien - *Of Foxes and Hounds*
* Tut Tut Child - *Oracle* (snippet)
* Laura Brehm - *Rain*
* Priority One & TwoThirds (ft. Jonny Rose) - *Hunted* (snippet)
* Laura Brehm - *Until the Sun*

## Trivia

* The chapter is named after the Varien song *Of Foxes and Hounds*, which is featured as Winter experiences the fog.
	+ For the chapter's poster, Av redrew the cover art of *Of Foxes and Hounds* and added additional features inspired by the BT album *The Secret Language of Trees*, which played a minor part in inspiring the chapter's visuals.
* As noted above, *The Foxes and the Hounds* serves as an interlude chapter due to its deviation from the main plot.
* The Varien song Winter quotes in the beginning is *Kamisama*.
* When discussing the end of school, Winter references one of her biggest inspirations, *come to the end; then stop* by Tut Tut Child, twice.
* Upon Winter exiting school for the semester and chasing her own rhythm, the WRLD song *Ocean Blue* is heard in the background.
* It is is revealed that:
	+ After happily leaving her sixth grade year behind, Winter rejoiced in the fun atmosphere of the Piney Woods. However, she quickly became bored with a lack of a challenges, struggling to come up with something fresh and falling into burnout. On one morning, she awoke to fog, and the phenomenon helped her reinvent her creative thinking, enabling her to have fun again.
	+ Although she was tempted to, Winter did not look at the memories in her box, still too triggered by her trauma.
	+ Winter began to view herself as an "oracle" of the Piney Woods, and her imagination began to run at its wildest.
	+ On a rainy afternoon, Winter realized the importance and soothing nature of rain, letting go of her transgressions against it.
	+ Winter spent the last days before school training herself and fortifiying her boundaries, confident in herself.
* This chapter marks the only time Hala Finley returns to voice young Winter after *Dawn Will Bring Us Death*. However, her role is not major, as she only voices Winter hearing her young self at Pinelake Park for a few seconds.
* The glyphs Winter draws in the *Of Foxes and Hounds* scene were inspired by the Varien song *Aether and Light* and the glyphs from *The Owl House*.
* A snippet of the Tut Tut Child song *Oracle* is audible as Winter visualizes several different versions of the Piney Woods.
* As Winter relishes the rain, the Laura Brehm song *Rain becomes audible in the background.*
* Besides *Rain* itself, the *Rain* scene is also inspired by the 1952 musical film *Singing in the Rain*.
* During Winter's fictional fight with the vultures, half of the Priority One and TwoThirds song *Hunted* is played; it pauses midway once Winter finishes.
* When Winter believes the vultures should be scared of her, she alludes to the Halsey song *Control*.
* As Winter sets out toward school for the seventh grade year, the Laura Brehm song *Until the Sun* is heard. The pacing of the scene is deliberately slow to match the song's own pacing.
	+ Furthermore, the line Laura Brehm whispers in *Until the Sun* ("The sun will rise again") is given to Winter and is treated like one of her own lines.