Astrid is an artist who creates incredible masterpieces inspired by her dreams and visions from her vivid imagination. But lacking memories of her life before one ominous day in a forest, has caused her to live a disconnected life.
Only when she en...
"Astrid, come on you need to focus!" Naomi clicked her fingers in front of the sixteen year old's unenthusiastic face.
But Astrid couldn't shake the awful feeling that had managed to creep its way across her mind. It seemed to have made its way through every muscle of her body causing her to seize up all together. The only movement she could make was an involuntary quiver in her lower lip.
"Astrid, come on, it's easy, you've done it before." Naomi tried her hardest to coax her out of the shell that she had managed to form around herself, but she failed to hide her frustration as she spoke. This fanned a reluctant flame in Astrid as she proceeded to crush the Goirt-fell root under the knife that she squeezed in her right hand. She held it so tightly that her knuckles went white under the strain.
"Okay, good," Naomi said, her voice wavered as the uncomfortable atmosphere that Astrid was creating weighed down upon her. "Now, what do you need to do next?"
A groan left Astrid's throat as she scooped up the gloopy mess of the crushed root and clumsily shoved it into the open, clear jar that stood ready for its brand new contents.
"Ah ah, gently," Naomi instructed in the calmest voice she could muster. She decided to change tact, having no idea what was upsetting Astrid that morning.
"I can't do this..." Astrid blurted out.
"What's going on, Astrid?" Naomi questioned, concern etching its presence in a scowl on her brow. "It is only Goirt-fell root..."
"I don't want to do this!" Astrid yelled and flung her arms in a fit of unwarranted rage. She caught the jar with the back of her fingers, sending it tumbling through the air. The resounding smash of glass shook her eardrums, making her flinch before running out of the kitchen and out amongst the trees; where she could hide from the shame of her irrational outburst.
"What happened? What's going on?" True rushed through from his room.
"I don't know, something is bothering her." Naomi answered, whilst bending down to clear up the mess on the floor. "Go after her please, True."
He nodded and ran out of the door.
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True twisted and turned as he tried to think of what direction Astrid had gone in. A thought then entered his mind. He made his way to the fallen tree, their fallen tree, the place where Naomi first found them half a dozen years ago.
There, amongst the moss, the roots and mud crouched a distraught Astrid. She hid her face under a shield of long, ebony hair. Quiet, strained sobs left her as she struggled against her tears.
"What's going on with you, my Astrid?" True asked, as he slowly bent down to join her in the small crook that he could still fit inside, to his surprise.
"Talk to me."
Astrid didn't move.
"Astrid, talk to me, come on, it's me! You can always talk to me," he pleaded by her side. He shifted his weight as he waited for her to speak.
