The soft evening wind dashed across the air, billowing into a particular house at the farthest edge of the forest—a little cottage with one window light on. The yellow glow stood out amidst the cloud of darkness surrounding it.
A figure draped in a green cloak appeared at this window, pushing the white swaying curtains aside, revealing a slim girl of about eighteen, now standing at the window, her fair skin bathed in the moon's glow.
"Ahh, a breath of fresh air," she beamed, her eyes twinkling as they gazed into the thick forest ahead.
So far, the Welford family had not caught up with her—the family she had grown up with after the loss of her mother at the tender age of five. When her father had remarried to another woman, who already had a child of her age.
"Splendilo!" she exclaimed excitedly.
No one will be able to catch her now. The cottage she was in was at the outskirts of Blenfosh village, where whispers of haunting ghosts rest. No one will be able to find her, even though she is now wanted because of what she has done.
"I, Elena, will forever be the villain of Blenfosh, and I will hunt Welford down for making me be this way," she gritted her teeth, staring into the dense forest, ignoring the hooting of the owls which, for an ordinary person, is a sign of danger. Except, Elena, was no ordinary girl.
"Clarissa," Elena's lips twitched in disgust, "What a fine name." Her fist clenched on a blue glowing object in the form of a necklace. She raised it up so it glinted under the moonlight, flashing its rare light on her fair skin. "Clarrisa Welford, the one who had taken the name of the household. You shall never stumble upon your necklace again."
A wry smile appeared on her face as she thought of her stepsister rummaging through her drawer, with a shrill voice and a quivering face as she searched for her necklace. While Elena had never been given the least jewelry, whereas no good clothing and food. Clarissa got everything good. She was the beauty of the family, the one her father clapped for, the one he noticed, the one he pampered.
Meanwhile, all she got was the blame for her mother's death. "I was only five," Elena had reminded boredly each time her father brought up the topic, on the edge of his anger. "You cannot blame me for mother's death," Elena barked, upset and frustrated. And all she had in return was a resounding slap that made her quiet, that made her angry against the world and turned her into what she is now!
"Ahh!" she rubbed her jaw dramatically, pain flashing in her eyes. "I took every slap while Clarissa got all the fine jewelry?" She shook her head, gasping at the harsh reality. Her reality. "It's alright, it is alright now. Clarissa will never get to see her jewelry again." She shoved the jewelry back into her dress pocket and gazed back at the night.
The hearth from the cottage room warmed her skin against the coldness of the night, keeping her feet and toes warm and happy. But it will be a matter of time before she ventured again into the night to find a place to hide. She can't be in one place for too long or she would be caught.
"The cold," she sighed, leaning her face out of the window, the night air wafting on her skin. "Not good, not good," she frowned. "Perhaps I should remain here till dawn and make my escape."
But the Welford family was looking for her, and even though the people of Benfosh would not find her tonight for her crime, she had no doubt that her persistent family would not mind the scary forest and venture here, even if it was to search for her all night. Once found, she had no doubt she would be punished for every atrocity, and also, her stepmother would never let her out for fear that no one would be around to do all the chores.
"I must escape and not mind the cold," Elena nodded, setting her mind towards her task. Perhaps if she could reach the border of her country and cross into another one, no one would be able to find her.
Elena walked towards the hearth and fanned her hand over it, relishing its warmth once more before wearing her thick cotton glove.
"Someday," she stared into the hearth as if it were human, "I will come back here again. That is, if no one has found out that this is my hiding place."
Holding her cloak against herself, Elena moved away from the hearth. The glow of the room made her pathway out of the room easier. The owner of the cottage might appear at any time soon, another reason not to stay for too long. But she meant her words; if she lost her way or found no place to rest, she would come to this cottage that had given her a twelve-hour shield.
She moved towards the door, but before she could reach for it, she heard it click. Elena stood frozen, watching the door. Perhaps the owner of the cottage had arrived; this was her time to flee, but instead, she stood, too shocked to move.
"The Welford girl," she heard a grumpy voice coming from the door, "Where had she gone?" She needed no one to tell her that it was not the cottage owner. This voice was from the ones searching for her.
"I'll kill her if I catch her."
Another rattle at the doorknob, an attempt to push it open.
Elena began to take a slow step back, dragging her feet against the stone ground.
"Ha! Hunter. Odd you are," another one chimed in, a less grumpy voice, "I will take 'er with me and have her as my wife."
"She is a thief," the grumpy voice said loudly, "No one would have her. I shall take her when I catch her. That troublesome Welford girl!"
They continued bargaining as if she were a price of tomatoes they were hasty to have. Meanwhile, the doorknob continued to rattle. She should escape now; she had no doubt her father must have sent these men to look for her. Only a Welford male can come this far.
"Ah! The door won't budge, Hunter!" cried a voice of desperation and frustration, "Perhaps no one is here."
The grumpy voice returned, "Someone is in here. I saw a figure."
"Must be the owner," the voice carried a sigh in frustration.
"Move back, Paul," Hunter said, "I will break the door!"