This tree is taller than the others by far, stretching to reach the clouds. I am fervently wishing for the werewolves to see it, but they are probably consumed with whatever they are talking about.
It sounded important when I tried to earesdrop, though I didn't quite understand their topic.
It is George's fault, I think feverishly, for casting me out of their meeting room. He probably knew I would find some trouble to involve myself in.
But I can't truly blame it on him. It is my fault for taking those first steps towards the dangerous road. It is my fault for not sticking to the beautiful garden.
And now, I am going to pay.
The tree totters, swaying in that rough wind. My dress presses against me, forced back by the terrible gales. The force of the wind increases, nearly pushing me to the ground as the tree reaches full height and strength.
It ripples with energy, the bright red crackling around it like lightning. The wind seems to circle around this giant monster, almost like a tornado with its speed and focus.
But then, there is a crack that stops my heart.
The tree suddenly snaps, the red energy possessing it still. The breaking of the suddenly colossal tree surprises me; with its newfound strength, it seemed to be invincible.
It almost looks to be a deliberate breaking, the now severed trunk cut cleanly and smoothly. How is it doing that? What is going on?
I hardly notice the tree as the rest of it tumbles towards me, my thought muddled with confusion. It must be the ghost. The ghost is controlling the tree!
Wait... I glance upwards, at the blur of speed as it travels to squish me.
"Oh no," I whisper, my voice shriveled and weak.
I try to scream, but I can't. I am frozen solid with pain, fear, and hate.
I can't move.
I can't think.
I really am going to die, aren't I? No more silly games of hide and seek. Death has found me, sinking his talons into my skin.
Glaring at me with his giant red eyes that haunt my memories.
But what, truly, do I have to live for?
I think of a certain man, with emeralds for eyes and azure hair that sparkles in the bright sunlight. He would miss me for sure.
My cheeks burn as a tear runs past my eyelashes, down my chin, onto my ratty clothes. I wonder why I am crying, when I had tried to commit suicide only two days ago.
But so much has changed since then. There is so much more...
Right before the tree hits the ground, squelching me in the process, there is a thump. Glancing upwards, I wonder why I am not dead yet.
Why the pain is only inside of me, blinding my thinking. There are no scratches on my arms and legs, only dirt and leaves, making me wonder if this is only a dream.
There is no way this can happen in real life. I am just going crazy, imagining such nonsense.
But then why does my head hurt so much?
I stagger, scanning the area for the tree with the evil red sparks. Everything is going blurry, the screams blocking everything.
My mother's thin voice, repeating itself over and over and over...
"Are you okay?" a familiar voice erupts through the void, ripping its way towards my understanding.
I blink, my eyes focusing. The masculine voice seems to harness my thoughts and drag it to reality, everything becoming clearer.
It is then that I notice that the tree is lying to the side of me, held by a man who has saved my life three times in the past two days.
His muscled arms bulge as he lays the colossal tree on the ground, his beautiful eyes widening at the red sparks exploding from it. The eyes narrow, his fist drawing back and slamming into the trunk of the tree.
There is a boom, shaking me to my knees, like a tiny earthquake. I look up once more, to see the tree almost in splinters.
The red is gone, and so is the ghost that vanished into it. How did he do that in one punch?
The handsome man runs my way, wrapping his firm arms around me concernedly.
"Are you okay?" he repeats the question, taking one now gentle finger and stroking some strands of my ruby red hair.
I lean against him for a second, dwelling in his warmth and comfort, trying to throw out the endless pain. There is silence, and then the hurt leaves me, only leaving cold memories that stain my heart.
"How did you do that?" I waste no time, grabbing one of his hands, marveling at the lack of cuts and splinters, "you made a little earthquake!"
He laughs, "It's called an Earthquake Punch. It is something werewolves have to train for years and years to attain, and one of the six Talents. Now answer my question."
"Well, I'm not hurt, but..." I squeeze his hand tightly, almost delirious with confusion, "What was that ghost thing?"
His eyes widen, bafflement dancing across his features.
"You... saw it?"
"Yeah. It was so scary, with its bright red eyes..." I shudder, causing him to pull me into a hug.
I am too tired to care, although stiffening slightly at his movement.
"Everything's okay, Berenice," he murmurs as I bury my face into his chest.
I need his warmth, the security he offers. For it seems that I won't find survival anywhere else. After a while, he slowly breaks apart, leading me with him back the way we both came.
His form straightens as we walk, I turning away from him in embarrassment. He must think I'm pitiful, always needing to be saved.
I used to think of myself as being independent and able to support myself, but this one day has convinced me otherwise.
The ground beneath us crunches, the leaves producing a snap as they crack. Whispers of the past wind, once a terrible gale, still brush our hair and shoulders, dancing along our skin.
I now feel cold and almost emotionless, the pain having eliminated all other feelings. And now that the pain is gone, there is nothing.