Boutons filetés

Un nouveau départ

"It's ok, I guess." Truth be told, Max hated it. He didn't want to move out here and David knew that too. But this was the happiest he'd seen David since the move started. Hell, for weeks he had been stressing about packing, then driving for hours to get here. Max couldn't ruin this for him. At least not right now.

"You should explore, maybe check out the garden? There are acres of woods out there, and probably countless trails. Oh we should go hiking once we're unpacked! I think the landlord mentioned something about an old well?" David mused, grabbing a box cutter and starting to go through the boxes.

Max groaned. Seriously? It had been raining all fucking day! He didn't want to go out there. Then again... the only other option seemed to be helping unpack. Like fuck he was gonna do that. And there was no fucking way he was gonna go back upstairs and stare at the wall again. He needed something to do.

"Fiiiiine. But only because I don't wanna fucking get roped into unpacking all of this shit." Max gestured around the room as he walked out to find his rain boots.

"Language, Max!" David's voice carried over, causing Max to roll his eyes.

It took a bit of trial and error but eventually Max found his rainboots, pulling them on before grabbing his yellow messenger bag. Max passed through the kitchen again, giving David a little wave as he left through the side door.

The rain had slowed, just barely a drizzle now, not enough to justify Max putting on his hood. Max looked around from his spot on the porch. To his left, the porch wrapped around to the front of the house; he could see David's car from where he was standing. To his right, the porch ended, stairs leading out to what Max guessed was supposed to be the garden. Not that anything was growing out there.

Max jumped off the porch, purposely landing in a puddle and knowing full well that David could see him from the kitchen. Grinning, Max splashed a bit in the puddles. David always warned Max to be careful in puddles, the ground around them often slippery. Not that Max cared. If he fell, he fell. It was his own damn fault. But he didn't fall, he knew how to take care of himself. It didn't help that Max often tracked mud through the house, and then refused to clean it up afterwards.

He stopped at the gate leading into the garden, the cobblestone path branching off after the gate. Looking down to his right, Max saw a bush, most of its leaves missing thanks to the rain, allowing him to see a Y-shaped branch deep in the bush. Max remembered what David said about an old well, as well as David's camp on dowsing from a year or two ago. That was a weird day, but whatever, that weird witchy camper had insisted on having a day spent solely on dowsing, saying that it would come in handy one day. Guess she was right.

Max reached down and grabbed the branch, pulling off the remaining leaves before grabbing the handles, closing his eyes and spinning in a circle before stopping. Opening his eyes he was pointed into the garden again, the stick aimed out towards the trees on the far side. With a shrug he walked through the gate, keeping the stick in front of him and just following wherever it pointed.

He made his way through the garden, the cobblestone slick from the rain, leaves sticking to the path and bridge in the middle, some even sticking to the walls of the garden. Max ran through the flowerbeds to get out the other side. Nothing was growing here yet, he didn't have to be fucking careful.

The trees were clustered together, most missing leaves. A small path breached through the trees, disappearing into the woods. Max stared at it for a minute before shrugging, walking down the path with the dowsing rod out front. The path took him up and up and up before clearing the tree line. From up here he could see the Pink Palace in the distance, a cliff face between him and it.