Land Of Giants (Discontinued)

Chapter 8

Malissa

I heard the sound of birds, and other creatures running through the forest, startling me awake. I lifted my head way to fast, and hit it painfully against the table in my small home. I groaned, and grabbed at my head as I rolled on the ground in pain, gritting my teeth to stop any noise from coming out.

I scratched my head as my eyes focused on my own little room, some light shining in through some roots of the tree. I noticed Ester passed out in the bed, with Betty lying in her arms, fast asleep, and Chris was passed out in the corner of the room, with a small dagger in his hands, just in case anyone breaks into the room. The only person, though, that I could not see in the room was Triston. He was gone.

I pushed myself onto my feet, startling Chris awake. He looked up at me for a second, with his dagger held up defensively, before lowering it, and grumbling, "Why are you awake? It's too early."

"It's..." I looked to the edge of my table, where I carved number on the side, along with small tally marks in between each number. It was my time system for the day. It never works at night, because the moons light isn't as powerful as the sun's. So basically the sun shines through the roots, and throughout the day the light slides over the edge of the table, telling me the time.

"It's only eight," I replied, still looking at the table.

"It doesn't matter. Go back to bed," he mumbled, before slumping back into sleep.

"Please.... Like I would ever do that," I whispered to myself as I snatched an apple from my fruit bowl, before climbing out of the tree home, and into the open forest, where I still didn't see any sign on a giant Triston anywhere.

He must have left to check on his brother...

"That's lame," I muttered, snacking on the apple as I moved around.

"Not really," someone replied.

I jumped around, and came face to face with the same old lady from a while back. "I see you kept your poem. What a wise decision."

"For some reason, I get this feeling that the giants are not the threat, but you are... at the very moment," I said, biting into my apple as I watched her closely.

"I actually just came here to congratulate you," she laughed.

"What?"

"You're the only person, so far, who has actually kept their poem."

"What do you mean?"

"Usually people throw away their poem, so they don't solve their own fate, which means bad mojo for them."

"You talk funny," I blurted out, before even realizing that that was quit rude.

She seemed a little taken back, but just laughed it off. "That's what my sons say, but they can't even say one word right. They're the ones who sound weird, and strange, so I couldn't tell you if I even speak right."

"Right... wait, you have sons? So you're a mom?"

"Yeah... but they're a bunch of pansies, running around the place. The only sane one in our house is Hamilton, but he doesn't really do anything, except for clean, cook, and heal people. I'm surprised he can keep himself from killing people while he heals them."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, Hamilton's a vampire, but he doesn't mean any harm. He's just a big softball that cares about his kitchen, and the people that he takes care of."