ECKO
8 Years Old
My eyes twinkled as they peered above the edge of my fuzzy blanket, following the monochromatic bumblebees' dip and sway. The familiar, artificial scenery was brightly illuminated, projected onto my bedroom wall as it poured from the nightlight that daddy had bought me so long ago.
The darkness never really scared me. In fact, I often preferred the nighttime, when the world fell to sleep all around me and I was finally left alone with my thoughts.
With two brothers, a two-year-old little sister, and a crazy dad who makes a habit of running our home into an inescapable typhoon of chaos, silence is a rarely stumbled upon commodity in our home now at days. Therefore, I kinda liked when the shadows descended on the world, creating little pockets of tranquil mystery that I longed to untangle.
The floorboards creaked, straining under muted footsteps, and my senses flickered, tuning in. The sound emanated from the far side of our home, where my baby sister's nursery and daddy and papa's room resided. When the creak was quickly followed up by the faint click of their door closing shut, indicating that they were finally turning in for the night, I immediately jumped into action.
Kicking off the thick mound of blankets that my dad had snugly tucked me underneath much earlier in the night, I promptly slid out of bed with all of the finesse of a highly trained ninja, landing swiftly on the balls of my feet. I waited a moment, long enough to be sure that no one was alerted to my sleuthing movements, before I gained the courage to crouch down, tilting my head and neck and peeking at the hidden stash of materials beneath my bed.
The drawstring bag was where I always left it after a late-night excursion, concealed by the darkness in the farthest corner that my arms could possibly reach. So, shimmying beneath the bedframe as far as I possibly could, I rooted my hand around, patting through the dust bunnies that loved to settle in the forgotten place until my fingertips made contact with the strings that made up the shoulder straps of the bag.
With a little huff of effort, quickly followed up by a quiet sneeze from the dust that the bag managed to jostle up, I tugged my trusty backpack from its hiding place. It landed perfectly in my lap as I fell back down onto my bottom, and – after brushing a few strands of my long, red hair from where they had settled in front of my eyes – I used both hands to wrench open the top drawstring that kept all of my precious items safe and contained. I couldn't help the excited grin that tugged on my lips as I upturned the bag, dumping all of the contents out and into my waiting lap.
First to tumble out was my favorite jacket, a beautiful, warm, thing that papa had knitted for me a year or two ago. It had all of my favorite vegetables meticulously interwoven into the chunky pattern, and every time that I put it on, the soft fabric felt like nothing other than the biggest hug from both of my daddies.
The second thing that tumbled from the depths of my bag was a metal flashlight, small enough to fit in my palm but emitting enough light to illuminate the paths that I planned on exploring. It was an essential item for my nighttime excursions, when the forest became a sea of neverending darkness and my wolf, Sana, struggled to see through with his reduced ability to use night vision.
Papa said that I was born with something called prematurity, and because of that, my eyes didn't get to develop all the way while I was in daddy's belly. But Daddy always called my ability to hear even the slightest of sounds while also not being able to see in the dark a trade-off, compensation for the gift of life that the God/dess gave me despite coming into the world a little bit too early.
But honestly, I don't so much mind that my eyes need a little more assistance with things every now and then. After all, daddy always says that my differences make me unique.
After my flashlight came one of my proudest creations from the depths of my bag; a thick, sturdy stick that measured about a foot long and was fashioned into a sharp point at the very end. It functioned as both a makeshift shovel and an emergency weapon during my adventures – not that I'd ever realistically need to use it for the latter, considering my daddies' pack borders were extremely secure, a safe haven for any and all that lived and stayed within them.
Then, finally, the very last item in my tumbled out of my stash. The sling tote bag – also fashioned from my papa's hobby of knitting all of my siblings the cutest things – was the perfect size for both carrying all of my necessary items andholding all of my late-night finds.
I shirked on my comfy jacket first, closely followed by my tote, which fit across my chest and settled perfectly onto the ridge of my hip. It only took a few more moments to gather up my stick and flashlight, tuck them securely into the bottom of my tote, and slip on my shoes before shuffling over to my window.
The second floor was very high up, and every night that I shoved up the window pane and stuck my head out to peer at the ground below, I never failed to sense a slight trace of fear as it slithered down my spine, settling in the very base of my stomach. But with a couple of deep breaths and a silent affirmation – just like daddy taught me how to do whenever I felt anxious about something – I swiftly swung my leg over the window sill, curling my hands securely around the edge.
The wooden trellis secured to the side of my house was easy enough to climb down, foot placements more than memorized from the countless other times I'd traveled this same path. So, soon enough, my feet were already settling securely on firm ground, and my adventure was ready to begin.
With the advantage of my impeccable hearing to guide me, I'd never even come close to being caught during my adventures. I could always hear papa's patrolmen before they even got within a mile of me, and by the time they reached my position, I was already tucked back in bed, comfy and dozing there as if I'd never left.
My skin tingled with excitement as I sucked in a giant breath, the nippy air of late summer filling my lungs so full that they felt like they might burst. Then, closing my eyes, I listened to the worms, the beetles, and the tiniest insects as they ambled their way through the dirt and grass below my feet, making their way home to their families for the night. But most of all, I honed in on one sound in particular, listening closely for the sound of the thumping of paws which would reveal a nearby pack member on nighttime patrol.
Once I assured myself that the coast was clear, I began to sneak my way around to the back of our home, keeping my back as close to the stone walls as possible so as to not be spotted from papa and daddy's bedroom window. Then, once I was just far enough outside of their range of view, I ran.
Wind whipped through my shoulder-length, strawberry strands, tangling them around my neck as I bounded toward the forest as fast as my short legs could carry me. A few giggles escaped my throat as I reveled in the liberation of it all, in the way that I could truly be free out here, without the threat of judgment, without wide eyes following my every move, without mean whispers stifled behind my back.
With a family as crazy and fun as mine, I didn't exactly mind being a loner. After all, most of the kids at school only called me mean names anyway, constantly muttering about how it was possible that a werewolf like me had become so... for lack of a better word, chubby.
Before the bullying started, I'd never really thought twice about my weight. Papa called it my precious, perfect baby fat, and daddy mostly just threatened to fight all of the mean kids' parents. But either way, it didn't fix the fact that I didn't know why or how my body looked the way it did. It was just who I was, and it wasn't something that I had the power to change.
But if there was one thing that never hurt me, it was the beautiful plants and nature that surrounded our pack lands. And so, with my flashlight cranked to the brightest setting in one hand and my sharpened stick held tight in the other, I ventured out into the dark unknown.
The forest was a beautiful thing, a mystifying place that harbored a symphony of curious sounds that mimicked what I imagined love must sound like. The whisper of a cricket, the flutter of a bird, and the creak of a branch all told the story of this majestic place, and as I carefully stepped over fallen logs and around few divots in the earth, I followed my ears toward the place that I knew all too well.
Wild herbs were easy enough to grow in my garden, but they never tasted quite the same as the real thing. There was just something so special about the damp air, the rich soil, and the crisp wind of the forest that added an ingredient that couldn't possibly be replicated anywhere else. And although I'd tried to explain that exact concept to daddy and papa a million times over, they still refused to let me explore our surrounding forest, which was home to so many wild, edible plants that my heart just couldn't take the idea of leaving all of these goodies out to rot.
And speaking of goodies, just as my flashlight swept the ground in front of me, my breath caught, warmth blooming across my cheeks as I took in the sight of a giant, blooming bed of chanterelle mushrooms!
A gasp of elation slipped through my lips as I fell to my knees at once, setting my flashlight to the ground so that I could hold my stick shovel with both hands. The damp moisture of the earth beneath me immediately seeped into my thin pajama bottoms, but my excitement over such an incredible find vastly overruled any concern of getting myself dirty.
It took about fifteen minutes of me digging around in the dirt for my tote to become half-filled with treasure, although I made sure to respectfully leave a nice, hearty patch of the tasty mushrooms behind so that they could easily regrow back to their previous glory. Then, flashlight back in hand, I stumbled back to both feet before traveling ever deeper into the forest, light swaying back and forth in the darkness as I kept an eye out for even more wild goodies.
I barely stifled a scream of excitement when I caught sight of yet another giant patch of lavender this time, the tiny, purple flower swaying happily in the darkness. My mind reeled as I once again kneeled in front of my discovery, quick to pick only a respectful amount before stuffing my prize into my bag right alongside the hearty mushrooms.
Oh, my morning teatime with daddy was going to be so delicious with such yummy herbs infused into it, I could hardly wait for daybreak!
It was only once I finished tying a sturdy stem around my herb bundle that I sniffed carefully, turning my nose up into the wind.
Is it possible that I was scenting something... more? And so close by!?
Scrambling for my flashlight, I swept it to the left and further into the forest, aiming in the direction of the unexpected scent. And as I peered further, squinting so that the blurry image would come into a little bit better focus – lo and behold – I was right!
The sprawl of wild basil was only about twenty feet away, and I nearly tripped over my own feet to get to it. The smell of its tasty leaves was so strong that it practically smothered my sense of smell completely, and I could only imagine how tasty the powerful herb would be in a homemade Italian dish!
Through my unruly euphoria at such a bountiful foraging night, I honestly don't know how long I stayed there, kneeling in the dirt as I meticulously filled my tote to the brim with countless bundles of the delicious herb. Maybe that's why it took so long for me to realize that, somewhere along the path of my adventure, I'd strayed just a little bit too far from home.
The pungent scent of basil and herb must have masked the scent of the edge of our pack borders, but nothing could have been ever been loud enough to conceal the barbarically harsh growl that ripped through the underbrush directly to the left of me.
Fear gripped ahold of my entire nervous system at once, digging instinctual claws of fight-or-flight into my deepest flesh, and all that I could do was freeze in place as my brain tried to figure out what to do.
My head turned ever-so-slowly, breaths coming out in short, quick bursts, as if trying to delay the inevitable. But when my flashlight finally illuminated the tall grasses that the sound came from, the bright, wolfish eyes staring right back at me injected a shard of ice directly into my veins.
Part 2 in Next Episode
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