Shadows in the Forest

Chapter 4

Rosie clung to Farah that night, refusing to sleep on her own while Darrin nearly burned the entire forest down. Duke paced the space of Farah's room until passing out at the base of her bed, smothering Farah's feet in nearly insufferable heat.

Farah found no sleep, her mind working too quickly to allow for that reprieve from reality.

Could it be possible for the Vile to get to her family? Farah had forbid Rosie from going even remotly close to the forest, from even thinking about the shadows, and Darrin wasn't foolish enough to try and barge in there. He was furious, granted, but scared.

Farah was lucky her antics had remained hidden from the town. Unless you're on the edge of the village like Farah and her family, the top of the hill where the edge of the forest lies is out of sight. No one saw the scuffle, and for that, Farah can count herself as saved.

Her town acted tough by capturing one of the Vile and dragging him into the village, but they were scared more than anything. If they found out one of them wanted Farah, and was willing to go to extremes, willing to harm their own families, they would tie Farah up and throw her in the woods themselves.

So for now, Farah and what was left of her family huddled together.

It was only when the sun was peaking over the horizon and Farah had but an hour before she had to get up and do her morning chores, she felt sleep tug at her mind. And, as human as she was, she succumbed.

.

.

She was playing up on the hill, pulling blades of grass and spitting them down the middle before braiding the pieces together. Farah was young, her short legs stuck out in front of her, the pants much too large on her body but papa told her that to work hard, she couldn't wear those blasted dresses.

A noise behind her had Farah twisting at the torso. She saw nothing but a grassy slope stretching upwards, so she turned back around and gazed down the hill to where she could see her house and the shed where papa was building a chair for Mrs. Wineman.

Another sound caught her attention, but this time when Farah turned, she was met with forest green eyes of a boy. He was much taller than Farah, although she figured him to be about the same age. His hair was a mess of black curls, his skin pale, wearing odd clothing. He cocked his head to the side, and regarded Farah curiously as though she were the odd one.

Farah turned back around, and patted the grass to her side. "Come on, then." she announced. "You're going to miss the sunset."

The boy didn't move, and Farah plucked another blade of grass. She turned her head to see him staring at her with that same curious expression. "I've never seen you at school." Farah noted, trying and failing to place the face of the boy. "Does your mama teach you at home?"

He didn't respond, and Farah pouted. "If you don't want to talk to me, that's fine. I don't mind if you sit with me though. The sun looks the best from up here, I promise."

She turned back around, and was surprised when the grass moved beside her and the boy was sitting on the hill too, silently gazing out as Farah had. The sky was slowly being painted twenty shades of red and orange, a brilliant collage.

"What's your name?" Farah asked, even though she knew the boy didn't want to talk to her. As suspected, he didn't respond. "That's fine, you don't have to tell me. I'll just give you a name."

She met his green eyes and his curious stares, and when he didn't protest, Farah thought long and hard on what to name the silent boy. "I can't think of anything." Farah admitted, frowning. "That's fine. I won't tell you my name, and then we can be the nameless friends."