Thanks again for the crit I've started editing the other two pieces but I haven't posted them yet. For now I hope you enjoy this

A smile formed on her lips as she imagined the scene. She knew the woods better than her own backyard. All she had to do was get into them.

But this proved more difficult than she had thought. Her uncle suddenly seemed to be everywhere. When she went outside he’d be leaning against the house, smoking quietly. She couldn’t play near the woods or he’d reprimand her for wandering too far.

As anger and frustration built in Alyssa, she took to admiring the woods from afar, imagining John pacing inside it, waiting for her.

“What are you doing?”

Alyssa sighed and turned away from the window. She’d been looking out on the woods, trying to feel by some hidden power the presence of her lost soldier. “Nothing Nicky,” she said, “go back to reading.”

They were in the nursery, a room Alyssa had never particularly liked. It was too bright and overly frilly. The walls were a soft cream with painted hot-air balloons and scenes of a picnicking family. Dolls sat idly on an old Hadley chest, sprinkled delicately with dust.

But Nicky didn’t listen. The silly boy put his book down and stood up.

“But you’re always looking at the woods! And I heard Uncle Lyle telling father that you went walking there the other day.”

“I just went walking,” Alyssa replied, repressing a sigh, “not specifically there.”

“Father said we aren’t allowed in the woods.”

“Then I guess you’ll never go there, will you?”

Alyssa was sick of Nicky’s unctuous manner. He was barely eight, but he felt it his duty to uphold all rules and rat on her whenever possible. She was sure he would absolutely die if her father ever got mad at him.

“Are you going to go again?” he asked after the sting of embarrassment had left his cheeks.

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

“Perhaps.”

“I’m telling father!”

“Tell him you’re an irritating little snob while you’re at it,” she said, directing her stare back toward the forest.

Nicky’s feet pounded on wood as he ran from the room, probably close to tears. She knew what her father would tell her. She was twelve and she should show more respect for others. She was almost a lady and snubbing her little brother was not at all lady-like.

Alyssa sighed and pressed her face against the window. The worst was when her father started talking about how much she looked like her mother. Blue eyes. Short, straight blonde hair. Her mother’s face. She just lacked the poise, grace and style.

Alyssa sat up suddenly. Something below had caught her eye. Was that her uncle, furtively striding into the woods? Just before disappearing between the trees, Alyssa saw a gleam of silver flash from between his fingers.

Why would he take the dog tag into the forest?

She bit her lip. Curiosity and fear were fighting an epic battle within her head. Her uncle scared her. It was something about the way he walked, and how he spoke, and the oily smoothness of his moustache and hair.

But since finding the dog tag, Alyssa had done nothing but wonder about it. She knew her uncle knew something about it. She had seen the flicker of recognition when he glanced at it and – perhaps – a touch of fear.

All at once Alyssa pushed herself off the windowsill and bounded through the old house, it’s dark wood panelled walls passing in a blur. She passed her brother in a rush of her pencil dress but didn’t stop to answer his outraged, “Where are you going?”

She wouldn’t be long, she told herself as she burst through the back door. It was almost dark and dinner would be in less than an hour. She just wanted to see where her uncle was going. Perhaps he’d leave the dog tag somewhere and she could take it back.

The weakened light barely filtered through the trees. When Alyssa approached the sheltered gloom she faltered. The thought of her uncle sneaking through the trees, stealthily moving in the darkness,

scared her more than any witch ever could.

She was about to turn around when the wind lifted. It was cool and brisk, perfumed by the sweet flowers. It raised the flames of curiosity in her imagination and she smiled shakily. Every adventure had its risks.

Years of sneaking into the woods had taught her to be quiet. Her feet barely made a sound on the crunchy forest floor. She could hear her uncle up ahead and sometimes caught the slightest glimpse of his black coattails whipping around a shrub.

As they moved the light slowly faded. Streaks of orange and red danced across the sky and stained the forest with pleasant shades of gold. Alyssa became anxious again. Her uncle showed no sign of stopping and the sun was about to set. If she turned back now she might just escape the woods before darkness set in.

“He was aroun’ here somewhere.”

Alyssa froze. She could see her uncle a few yards ahead, but that hadn’t been his voice. It was gruff, far from the elegant containment of her uncle’s.

“Why didn’t you tell me the girl came into the woods?” that was her uncle. Acid. Poison. Anything

harmful could be found in his deep voice.

“She’s twelve! I dunno what you’re so worried abou’,” the other man said.

Alyssa slowly peered around the thick tree trunk. The other man was a fat farmer. She didn’t recognize him, but his clothes were patched and he had the ruddy face of a heavy drinker.

In one swift movement her uncle pushed the fat man against a tree, forearm pressed against his throat. Alyssa’s breath caught. She could barely hear what her uncle was saying, but the sudden show of strength made her wish she’d never left the mansion.

“What do think would have happened if she’d shown it to her father? Or that grotesque cook? Everybody this side of Kent knows who Smith is. The woods would be swarming with police and what the hell do you think they would find?”

The fat man struggled to swallow. His eyes were wide with unspoken fear and sweat suddenly clung to his upper lip.

“I – I didn’t think, sir,” he gasped.

Her uncle slowly let go of his throat and stepped back. He straightened his suit and ran a hand over his smooth hair. “Just find him and bury him.”

Alyssa gasped. The sound escaped her mouth before she could stop herself. Her uncle’s head whipped

around. Their eyes connected.

“GET HER!” he yelled as his niece turned and ran.

Alyssa tore through the trees, jumping over stumps and shrubs and anything in her way. She ran wildly, heart throbbing, mind racing. They were going to kill John. They were going to kill him and bury him.

“Stop you little midget!” the fat man gasped. He was still far behind but his legs carried his bulk at a surprising speed.

Alyssa barely turned her head to see where he was when she tripped. Her body skid along the ground, gravel tearing skin from her elbows and knees. Dust rose in a cloud around her head and she coughed and sobbed, struggling to breathe.

Get up! She told herself, but her limbs wouldn’t move. Her fingers scrambled in the dirt, between the stems of flowers, looking for a weapon, anything. The fat man was almost upon her. She could hear his rattling breaths, his heavy footfalls, his swears.

Alyssa’s fingers found something hard. It was rough but didn’t feel like bark. She tried to clutch it but it was big and round.

When the dust cleared she screamed.

Something seized the back of her dress and pulled her up roughly. She was thrown back again and her uncle stepped over her. He swiped at a stretch of flowers, beheading them. From underneath peaked

yellowed bones, half a scull, ruined clothing…

“Alyssa,” her uncle breathed, bending down to his niece’s level. “Say hello to John.”