Swift

A crisp breeze rattles through the emaciated branches of a small maple sapling starved of water by the thick cover of leaves overhead from the majestic oak tree. A leaf snaps off of a branch high above the ground and sweeps off with the wind. Many of the leaves have begun to change colors with spots of rich gold’s and oranges as fall approaches. An eerie hush prevails over this place, only the sound of the wind occasionally breaks the silence. The few small patches of sunlight that escape the dense layers of leaves are beginning to fade as the day seeps away into the night. Here, a young beautiful woman leaps deftly through the forest. She moves with a natural ease, as if she was a part of the forest instead of an intruder in it. She stops behind a larger tree as she sweeps one of her long, rich auburn locks behind her delicate ear. She looks from side to side before darting off again a little ways to hide behind the huge oak tree. Stopping for a moment, she takes a deep breath, and then begins to bound off again. Right as she starts to run her cloak gets snagged on the sickly sapling, breaking one of its delicate branches with a seemingly deafening snap. This stops her cold in her tracks and she hurriedly swoops down to remove the debris from the rich green fibers of her long cloak. Her cloak, like the forest, was interlaced with threads of deep gold’s and rich oranges, its coloring well suited to the forests early fall colors. She rights herself and tries to listen for any signs of movement over the thundering pumps of her heart. Quickly, she looks all directions in a silent panic and starts running again. Minutes stretch into hours as she weaves in and out of the trees and plants. It seems like many hours before the bursts out of the forest onto the crest of a green grassy hilltop. From here she can see a small dirt road at the bottom of the hill that leads into a small town just over the next hill. The cozy city is dwarfed by the extravagance of a magnificent castle that juts up from one of the hills just beyond the town. She pauses here for a brief moment before running down to the road and quickly disappears over the hill. When she arrives at the outskirts of the city, the last of the townspeople have just retreated into their homes. She creeps in the shadows, for the last wisps of daylight may still betray her and let her presence be known. A young woman should not be out at this time, as it must be well past eight. Maidens of her age were usually herded inside by seven. As she walks down the newly barren dirt street she thinks about this and hopes that her mother has been out. A lone mouse scurries across the road into a small hole in the house a few feet in front of her. The buildings rise about four feet over her head with walls of handmade brick and shoddily thatched roofs. They are no sight to behold, but they are home. She rounds a corner and stealthily slips into the door of one of the slightly smaller houses. She looks about the room for signs of her mother. All was the same as when she had left it that afternoon.
“She’s probably been out with her current fancy, no doubt!” the young woman scoffed as she let down her guard and walked through the messy living room and kitchen to her room at the back of the house.


This is only the beggining of my short story. All Constructive critiques are higly appriciated! I hope you enjoyed what I have done so far!