ODE TO THE END: A BALLAD OF BROTHERS

CHAPTER 4

The twilight had become an ever-darkening mesh, and, in the midst of the mystery, Naomi felt her heart bash against her ribcage at a hastening pace. She could barely see, so, as if on instinct, the girl choked down her angst, fixed her trembling eyes and listened. She heard nothing. Soon the animals and insects of the night played their nocturnal songs and, eventually, all seemed right.

Was it a trick of the ear? Maybe the slack of her backpack had brushed against her uniform in a weird way. The sun-kissed girl resigned herself to that conclusion the longer the peace went undisturbed. She took a breath and bonked her own noggin before giggling at the needless intensity.

"Well, that's enough daydreaming for me today," said Naomi. She was going to leave, but,  before she did, Naomi gave a gentle touch to her chosen tree. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Oakenfield. Don't go anywhere while I'm gone."

The rustling began again!

Naomi ducked and her bright eyes nearly bulged out of her skull. Something is here, She thought. But what? This was her spot. Her secret place. The neighborhood kids would have been far too frightened to come here, especially at the cusp of night. Could it have been someone more her age? No, they would never do as she did. Not after all the things they did and said to her. A burglar! It had to have been a burglar! Maybe even a monster!

No. The monsters she heard about were simply out of the question. Or were they? No! It was a person. It had to have been. Monsters weren't real, Naomi thought. It is a person. Someone I can fend off.

After convincing herself, Naomi  mustered the moxie to drive off the culprit she envisioned.  Instincts whispered into her ear, commanding her to stay low while she covertly unsheathed the metal bat from her backpack. She crawled to her feet afterwards, the iron rod tight in her grip, and poised herself to swing. She stalked along the broadside of her tree as the sounds of the stirring grew. She could hear it slithering, this unseen snake, until she finally caught a blurb of its feet. Its pants would follow, then the wrinkled rags of a-- "A boy," Naomi thought aloud.

As the moon began to light the intruder, Naomi saw the him clearly. He had a cloak unwound in its knitting and clothes she could only describe as worn. His skin was dark, far darker than she was accustomed, yet he had smooth features that marked their closeness of age. Despite their shared youth,  tired bags had begun to imprint beneath his eyes and his jaw was pronounced by how tightly he held it, even when asleep. As her bright eyes followed his contours, they soon captured the prominence of his harshly arched brow and the two-pronged scar that had been sliced into the left one. 

Naomi looked at the abrasions then back to the slumbering boy, and her expression glowed. Despite the underlying roughness about him, the stranger ignited a peculiar liking from her senses. Moreover, he was an outsider in her confined world and Naomi could only imagine all the things the dark boy knew.  All the things he had seen. She took a gulp as her freckled face began to fill with light red. The boy rolled over, nudging her knee with a foot, and she felt her heart flutter.

Naomi bolted to her feet and squeaked in fright. The warning from the train rang as clear as school bells, and, for an instant, all her wonder melted into a well-ingrained fear. What am I doing, she thought. This is dangerous. She stepped away and her freckled  skin suddenly drained of color. The common senses of her city pressed for a swift exit and demanded a dogged search for the nearest Warden Agent. The subliminals seized control of her person, and the girl found her feet hurrying toward the wood line. She was on the cusp of revealing the dark boy and her secret sanctuary all at once, but a slithering feeling gnawed at her heart and pinched at the very muscles that no longer seemed hers.