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Rated: E · Other · Other · #1993293
The prologue to a book I'm writing.
A woman lay hidden by the trees. Her breaths were natural and she was very much alive. She awoke at sunrise the next morning. Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her and before she knew what she was doing her bare feet were running into the unknown.

She was sweaty and hot and had been running for days. Her name was Abnaki, meaning – those living at the sunrise.

She ran day and night. Until, however, she came to a river flowing north and as Abnaki stared at her reflection in the pool she realised she was not alone. From behind her came a crashing sound of the waterfall as a child emerged from the water cascading down the rocks.

The child spoke and, at first it all sounded like gibberish but the little boy repeated his question and they shared a meal. After a long talk they decided to journey together, the woman said “Where is your mother, child?” and he replied “my mother died when I was young, my father told me.” There was an awkward silence and she turned to the boy and asked him where his father was “My father had to go away on business but before that he used to work making dresses, much like yours – woven from leaves and flowers.” Neither of them knew what lied ahead of them, neither of them knew who the other was and that did not matter to them.
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