Beneath the Mist

Deep in rural Scotland, nestled among rolling green hills, there lies a small village called Glenhaven.

Glenhaven is full of stone cottages with thatched roofs that lean against one another. A small river flows past the village, catching the morning light while birds flit between the trees.

Among those stone cottages was Freya, making her way up the cobbled main street with her bag over her shoulder. The wind picked up Freya's ginger hair, messing it up even more. Uphill lies her grandparents’ farmhouse, a small white wooden house with a big red barn and massive green fields dotted with grazing sheep.

In the distance, Freya could make out her grandmother, who was standing among the sheep. A short but not fragile old woman with long grey hair, greyish eyes and the kindest smile a person could have. Freya’s grandmother immediately dropped the bucket she was holding when she spotted Freya.

Freya ran up the hill and straight to her grandmother, who welcomed her with open arms. Her grandmother, Wilma, wrapped her arms tightly around Freya, holding her against her while kissing her temple. “Oh, Freya, my dear. You have no idea how much we have missed you,” murmured Wilma against her hair.

Freya smiled at her words, burying her face deeper into her grandmother’s cardigan, getting hit with that comforting smell of home. “I know, but I’m here now, am I not?” she replied, looking up at her grandmother.

Wilma leaned back and brushed a red strand of hair out of Freya's face with a smile, “As much as I want to keep standing here with you, I should not keep you any longer from your grandfather. Cuthbert hasn’t stopped talking about your arrival since we found out you're coming.”

With Wilma’s arm still around Freya, they both turned towards the farmhouse and walked up the short path leading to it.

The inside of the farmhouse wasn’t fancy. It was well lived in, but it was cozy, it was home. Like most homes, it had its own unique charm: light brown wooden floors that creaked if you stepped on the right spots and walls filled with framed photos of past generations. It was a simple home, yet it still felt comforting and was filled with so much love.

On the windowsill next to the front door lay the farm cat, Tina. A small, green-eyed, orange and white cat with spiderwebs in her whiskers from exploring. Tina lifted her head when she heard footsteps approaching, but didn’t bother greeting them and just enjoyed the sun instead.

Leaving Tina to herself, Freya kicked off her shoes and hung her jacket up while Wilma took her bag from her and laid it down on the staircase.

Wilma walked down the hallway into the kitchen where Cuthbert was laying out the cutlery for lunch. “Guess who’s here,” said Wilma excitedly. Cuthbert lifted his head and looked out into the hallway where Freya stood. “Freya!” Cuthbert almost yelled, dropping the cutlery on the table as he hurried over to Freya, pulling her into his embrace.

Freya wrapped her arms around his torso, “Missed you too,” she mumbled into his shirt. Cuthbert took a step back to look at his granddaughter properly. “Look at you, almost a whole lady, aye? You used to be smaller than a lamb,” he said, giving her shoulders a small squeeze.

Wilma chuckled, joining them in the hallway. “Taking more after your mother every year. It’s almost as if you only inherited her DNA,” she joked. Freya smiled at both of them as she replied: “You guys say this every time I’m here.” “It’s the truth,” Cuthbert argued. “Now come sit down, honey. You must be hungry from your journey here,” he added.

At the kitchen table, Freya sat down while Wilma took the Rumbledethumps out of the oven and put them onto the kitchen countertop so they could cool down a bit. “I made those extra for you today, you used to ask for them every day when you were a little kid,” she told Freya. “You didn’t have to, thank you, Grandma. But don’t worry, they’re still my favourite,” Freya replied.

“It’s a shame your father didn’t come with you. We would’ve loved having you both here,” said Cuthbert as he finished setting the table. Wilma put some bread on the table, replying: “Oh, he loves Norway too much. You can’t force a man out of his home country, Cuthbert.” Freya spoke up: “Bergen is very lovely though, you guys would love it there as well.” “Ah, who would look after the animals if we went? Besides, Scotland is basically Norway, just with less moose,” said Cuthbert. Wilma shook her head, amused. “It’s surely not, Cuthbert. But enough with this debate, eat before the food cools down,” she stated while placing the Rumbledethumps on the table.

After a long lunch of catching up, Wilma cleared the table as Cuthbert went back outside to work on some farm tasks. Freya lingered in the kitchen, watching her grandma clean the dishes. “Do you ever talk about her?” Freya asked suddenly. Wilma stilled for a second before turning her head towards Freya with a small smile. “We talk about your mother every day, Freya. I’m sure you being here will help us all move on a bit,” she replied. Freya looked at Wilma, unsure of what to say next, before asking: “Do you think the other villagers will ask me about her?” “People talk, they always do. But your mother was very loved by the others here, and I have no doubt that they will love you as much as they loved her,” answered Wilma.

Not wanting to talk about this topic any longer, Freya walked over to the sink to help her with the dishes.

After drying off the plates and putting them back in their place, Wilma spoke up. “I already put your school uniform into your closet.” Freya thanked her with a smile before stepping out into the hallway, grabbing her bag and heading upstairs to her room. She opened the bedroom door and found Tina sprawled out on her bed like she owned it.

Freya walked over to her bed, reaching out her hand to pet the cat. “How did you even get in here?” she asked. Tina just blinked at her, rubbing her head into Freya’s palm for more pets. Freya chuckled under her breath as she straightened up and put her bag on the bed to open it.

After unpacking all of her belongings and putting them into the closet, she looked around the room that used to be the guest room she stayed in when visiting. The room wasn’t big, but it still had enough space to move around freely. Her closet stood in the corner next to an old but stable desk with a wooden chair. A light floral wallpaper covered the walls, matching the flowers on the bedsheets. Right above the bed was a big window that looked over the hills and fields.

Freya decided to have a look at the school uniform that was hung up in her closet. The uniform was made out of a plain knee-length black skirt paired with a deep blue jumper. Next to it hung the black blazer that had the golden school crest on it. She frowned at the clothes and closed the wardrobe door again, trying to convince herself that she'd get used to the uniform.

The hours of her arrival went by quickly, so that it was already time for supper. Freya sat down at the table where Wilma and Cuthbert were already waiting for her. The table was filled with traditional Scottish dishes. “The Haggis aren’t made out of our sheep, right?” asked Freya suspiciously. Cuthbert smirked, replying: “Of course not, that would be too much work.” Wilma put some Haggis on her plate as she said: “Taking care of those walking clouds already takes enough time as it is, let alone butchering them into Haggis.”

Freya decided to believe them and put some on her plate as well, hoping it’s really not one of their sheep. Cuthbert handed Freya some bread. “How’s Jens handling it?” he asked out of nowhere. “Actually, Dad is kinda seeing someone,” answered Freya.

After a short silence, Wilma cleared her throat and said: “Well, I suppose everyone handles grief differently.”

Cuthbert decided it was best to change the topic and turned to Freya. “Are you nervous about the first day of school tomorrow?” Freya shrugged one shoulder, replying: “It can’t be that bad, right? I already stand out enough with my hair.” “You’re not the only ginger, darling. Besides, that will only make you more interesting to the others,” said Wilma, trying to comfort Freya.

Freya considered Wilma’s words before pointing out: “The third ginger out of 1,800 villagers?” “At least you’re easy to find if you get lost,” teased Cuthbert. Wilma suppressed a smirk while Freya rolled her eyes at Cuthbert’s joke. “Maybe we should ask the Clarkes if their boy could walk with you to school tomorrow? We don’t want you to get lost and be late for your first day,” said Wilma. “You guys worry too much about me. I promise I’ll be fine,” answered Freya.

The supper had ended some time ago and the sun was almost fully gone. Cuthbert and Wilma had already gone to bed a long time ago. Meanwhile, Freya sat awake in her bed while looking out of her window into the hills, hoping to see something interesting to pass the time.

Some yards away in the hills, a moving figure caught her attention. It was difficult to say if it was a person or an animal due to the distance. The figure moved hurriedly through the hills, almost as if it was trying to get away from something. Freya watched it move for a while, trying to recognise what it was. Suddenly, the figure stopped walking; it looked like it was staring right at her.

Freya got a bad sensation in her gut and lay down quickly so she wouldn’t be visible. She tried brushing it off, telling herself it was just an animal, but the feeling lingered. After a few moments, she got the courage to sit back up and check if it was still there—it wasn’t. Freya took a deep breath before pulling the curtains shut and lying back down. She closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep. But her mind was occupied with the mysterious figure. Eventually, her breath evened out and she fell into a deep sleep.

Birds were flying from tree to tree, chirping to themselves. As the sun covered the hills in golden rays.

Freya has been awake for a while now, already dressed in her school uniform.

She looked into the mirror, trying to tame her hair into a neat French braid, listening to the bird’s singing.

Downstairs, Wilma was setting the breakfast table. Meanwhile, Cuthbert was already outside letting the sheep out of the barn.

Joining Wilma downstairs, Freya first encountered Tina, who was trying to catch a ray of sunshine on the floor.

After watching the cat for a while, she continued her way into the kitchen.

Not wanting to startle Wilma, Freya cleared her throat, causing Wilma to turn around.

Wilma’s eyes lit up when she saw Freya standing in the doorway dressed in her school uniform.

For a second, Wilma only saw Elena standing there instead of Freya.

After a few seconds of silence, Freya asked: “Am I wearing it correctly? Or do I have something on my face?”

Wilma blinked, snapping out of her trance, “Of course not, darling. Who would manage to put a uniform on the wrong way?”

“Though you didn’t tie your tie correctly,” Wilma added.

Freya looked down at the crooked tie, raising her hand to fix it.

“You know, not even 20 years ago, your mother stood there just like you. Looking just as nervous as you,” said Wilma.

“I’m not nervous,” lied Freya.

They both knew it was a complete lie, but Wilma didn’t comment on it any more.

As Freya sat down, Cuthbert walked in from the backdoor, complaining under his breath about one sheep being a complete bastard.

“Language!” warned Wilma.

Cuthbert shot her a look before spotting Freya sitting there.

“Like your uniform, aye?” teased Cuthbert with a snicker.

Wilma swatted her husband's upper arm, “She looks great. Don’t pretend that you weren’t talking my ears off yesterday about being worried that she’ll get lost on her way to school.”

Freya smirked when she heard that, “Did anyone ever actually get lost here?”

Cuthbert sat down on the opposite side of Freya, “Never say never.”

The walk to school itself wasn’t that bad, if it weren’t for the steep, 5 minute long walk uphill. 

Eventually, the building came into view. Considering the school only had around 453 students, it was very spacious. 

Outside, some students talked to each other, while most students had already gone inside. Freya walked in as well, looking around to locate the headteacher's office.

As she looked around, she turned around and bumped into a taller guy who looked more annoyed than startled. 

“Watch where you’re going, redhead,” he said.

Freya scoffed, looking up at the guy's face. He was actually rather good looking but, of course, she wouldn’t admit that to his face.

“You could’ve watched where you're going as well, blondie,” she replied.

The guy looked her up and down with a scowl, “You do know that this is ash blonde, right? Blondie doesn’t fit.”

“Are you as dumb as your face makes you appear,” she asked.

Instead of getting offended, he smirked, “Really cocky for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Yeah, you know, someone who can’t even get their tie right.”

Freya looked down again, seeing her tie was, in fact, crooked again. 

She fixed it with her left hand while looking up again at the guy.

“Can you at least be helpful and tell me where the headteacher’s office is?” she asked.

“That would be rather helpful, wouldn’t it?” he teased.

“It would, yes.”

“Yeah, I can imagine that,” was the last thing he said to her before walking past her.

Freya looked after him with a frown, “Asshole.”

He didn’t turn around at the insult, but it was clear he heard her.

After 5 minutes, Freya finally located the office and knocked before entering. The office was mostly filled with books and papers with a table placed right in the centre. 

Behind the desk sat an older man with a name tag on the table that read “Mr. Reid”

“Uh, I’m new,” said Freya awkwardly. 

Mr. Reid gave her a small smile, already looking for her timetable. “Freya, right?”

“Yep.”

He handed her the paper with her classes written on it, “If you get lost, just ask one of the other students, they’re always ready to help.”

“Totally,” replied Freya dryly.

“Now, if anyone gives you a hard time, please let us know. Otherwise, I don't think you need to get a tour, everything is easy to find.”

Outside the office, Freya studied her timetable before heading up the stairs to find her classroom.

On the second floor, she stood outside the closed door for a while, trying to figure out what to say. She could faintly hear the teacher inside talking about some historical event that happened years ago.

Freya took all her courage and knocked on the door. After a few seconds, the teacher opened the door. “Yes?” asked the man.

Before Freya managed to open her mouth, he spoke again: “Ah, you must be the new student, come in.”

She did as told and walked into the class as the teacher closed the door behind her. 

Freya stood in front of the class being met with all the curious stares of her new classmates.

“Go on, introduce yourself,” urged the teacher.

“I’m Freya,” she said, “from Norway.”

“Well Freya from Norway, take a seat in the back next to Ivy.”

Still being stared at, she made her way to the back of the class and sat down. The teacher returned to teaching while Ivy turned towards her, “Oh my god, I haven’t had a deskmate this whole year.”

Freya offered her a small smile, not knowing what to say.

“Don’t worry about Mr. Sinclair, he’s always like that. We assume it’s because his wife left him,” Ivy explained.

“Oh,” is all Freya managed to get out before Ivy started talking again.

“Is that your real haircolour? It’s gorgeous, seems like Finn isn’t the only ginger in this class no more,” Ivy said, overly excited.

“Who’s Finn?”

Ivy pointed to a brown eyed ginger that sat in the front row, “My boyfriend, actually his name is Finnian, but we all call him Finn.”

For the rest of the classes, Freya stuck to Ivy since she didn’t know anyone else. 

When lunch break came, Ivy took her to her friend’s group's usual hangout spot under the stairs. 

She saw Finn standing there next to two other guys who weren’t in their class. 

One brunette guy with glasses and the other one happened to be the same guy from the morning. 

Ivy practically dragged Freya by her arm towards the group. “She’s one of us now,” Ivy declared.

“Oi, the same ginger from the morning?” said the guy with a crooked smirk.

“Freya,” corrected Ivy.

“That’s Callum, don’t mind him,” Ivy turned to the other guy, “And that's Oliver.”

Oliver and Finn smiled at her, clearly not minding the new addition to the group.

Callum, however, was still smirking at her as if he found his new victim to tease.

“So,” Callum started, “New student in the middle of the year, huh.”

Before Freya could defend herself, the ball rang, indicating that it was time to go back to class.

The rest of the classes passed painfully slowly, one more boring than the last one. When the final class of the day came to an end, Ivy turned towards Freya with an excited glint in her eyes.

“Do you want to hangout later? I need to watch my little sister, but I’m free after three.”

 Freya considered for a moment before replying, “What’s there to do around here?”

“Callum’s parents own a boathouse, so…” said Ivy, “but if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine!”

Freya considered the offer, not wanting to spend time with Callum but also not wanting to risk not having friends.

“Is there alcohol?” Freya asked.

Ivy gave her a smirk, linking her arm with Freya’s as they walked out of the classroom, “Of course.”

On Freya’s way home, she passed some goats grazing. She reached out to pet one that didn’t seem to shy away.

After a few minutes of petting the goat’s head, she heard someone clear their throat behind her. Freya turned around, startled, only to be met by Callum again, who has the same smirk on his face as in school.

“Petting goats now, are we?”

"Why? Want some pets as well?”

“Oh definitely. I’m very touch starved, you know.”

Freya rolled her eyes, counting her way home with Callum walking behind her.

After a few minutes, she glanced at him, “Are you stalking me or something?”

“Why would I waste my time on that? Obviously we need to walk in the same direction home,” he declared.

Freya decided it was for the best to ignore him for the rest of her way home, but Callum kept finding new ways to tease her.

“Is it true?” Callum asked.

“Is what true?”

“That ginger’s have no soul.”

“Why don’t you ask Finn.”

“Where would be the fun in that?”

“Are you gonna shut up if I answer your question?”

He gave her a charming smile, “No.”

Freya scoffed, clearly done with the conversation, if you can even call it that.

However, Callum had other plans and reached out to tug at her braid lightly.

“Keep your paws to yourself,” irritated Freya, swatting his hand away.

“Oi come on darling, I’m just desensitising you for the boathouse,” teased Callum.

When they reached the path that leads to her grandparent’s farm, she walked up the path not bothering to say bye to him. 

Callum stood there for a while, watching her walk uphill with the same smirk, before turning and walking home himself.

At the Farmhouse, she saw Wilma sitting on the porch in a rocking chair. Seeming to knitting a sweater, which she assumes is for one of the newborn lambs.

Freya walked over to Wilma and sat down on the chair next to hers.

Wilma glanced at her, still knitting, “How was your first day, dear?”

Freya shook her shoulders, “Fine I suppose, got invited to hangout today.”

Wilma stopped knitting, giving her full attention to Freya.

“You got invited to hangout?” asked Wilma excitedly.

“Mhm, at a boathouse. Is it okay if I go?”

“Of course it is darling, now tell me, who is the friend you’ve made?”

“Oh her name is Ivy but it’s Callum’s boathouse we’re going to.”

“Well that’s nice sweetie, no it’s definitely fine. I just didn’t expect you to find any friends that fast.”

Freya looked down at what Wilma was knitting, “Is that for the lambs?”

“Yes, it’s getting more chilly in the morning and I don’t want to risk them getting too cold.”

After a while, Cuthbert joined them on the porch, leaning against the fence. 

“There ya are Freya, been wondering how ya first day went.”

“It went fine,” answered Freya simply.

Wilma chirped in, “She’s made friends! She even got invited to hangout today!”

“Did ya now?” asked Cuthbert.

“Yeah, at the boathouse.”

“Boathouse? Whose boathouse?”

“Callum’s”

“The Reid’s boy?”

“I don't know, I never asked for his last name.”

Wilma swatted Cuthbert’s arm before he could ask any more questions.

“She’s a smart girl, stop questioning her. She’s old enough to be around boys, Cuthbert.”

Cuthbert grumbled something under his breath, sitting down on the stairs.

“Just don’t get into any trouble, aye?”

In the late afternoon, the weather seemed to clear up as Freya walked into the Village to meet up with Ivy.

Freya was walking down the cobbled streets, not paying much attention to her surroundings.  Ivy spotted her from behind and sneaked up, wrapping her arm around Freya’s shoulder who was startled.

“Fucking hell Ivy, are you trying to give me a heartattacked?”

Ivy grinned at Freya’s words, “Dramatic much? Maybe you should pay more attention to your surroundings my dear.”

Freya suppressed a smile, “You’re an asshole, do you know that?”

Ivy shrugged one shoulder, “But a pretty one.”

They walked down the street together, talking about everything they could think about.

“How far away does he live?”

“Just about 5 minutes from here, why? Impatient to see him?” teased Ivy.

“I only agreed on coming because of the alcohol that was promised.”

“Oh come on, you have to admit he’s good looking.”

“He is, until he opens his mouth. I’m starting to understand why Van Gogh cut his ear off.”

Ivy bursted out laughing at Freya’s words, “Jesus Freya, that’s a way to put it. But his boathouse makes up for it, I promise.”

“It better does.”

“Believe me Freya, his family knows how to rich right.”

“Rich right? What does that even mean?”

“It means they have great taste for rich people.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Ivy was determined to prove Freya wrong, so when a yellowish manor came into view, she sped up her walking, dragging Freya with her.

“Huh,” said Freya unimpressed, taking in the Manor, “I guess you didn’t lie.”

“A bit more enthusiasm wouldn’t hurt.”

A few meters next to the Manor, stood a spacious brown painted wooden boathouse with beautiful big windows. 

It had a long dark deck with wooden chairs on it and a swimming ladder at the end of the deck. 

On one of the chairs sat Oliver alone, opening a can of beer.

Ivy and Freya made their way over to the boathouse. When Oliver spotted them, he gave them a smile, reaching for two cans of beer for them.

“There you guys are, when’s Finn coming?”

“Like in half an hour or so. Apparently he needs to finish the English homework that was due last week,” said Ivy, sitting down next to Finn and pulling Freya into the seat next to her.

“Then let’s be glad he doesn’t aspire to become a doctor,” Oliver handed them their cans before looking at Freya, “You know, before you, we only had 4 other Gingers in this Village.”

“What’s this fascination about Gingers?” asked Freya.

“It’s a pretty haircolour,” argued Ivy.

“It is,” agreed Oliver, “but it sticks out, so people notice these kinds of things.”

As Freya opened her can, Callum walked out of the boathouse onto the dock.

“Thought I heard some carrot talking,” mocked Callum, specifically taking the chair next to Freya’s so he could grab her can, “thanks for opening.”

“Oh fuck you.”

“Hold your horses, redhead."

Ivy suppressed a smirk at their banter, meanwhile Oliver didn’t hide his.

“Jesus, get a room guys,” teased Oliver, gaining a glare from Freya as he handed her a new can.

An hour later, Finn arrived as well, Ivy stood up from her seat to give her boyfriend a hug.

“You’d think he just returned from war the way you hug him,” said Oliver jokingly.

Finn smirked, hugging Ivy back, “Just for your information, if there were a war, I’d come back in one piece.”

Callum glanced at Finn, “You gonna stay standing there or sit down, lover boy?”

“Lover boy? Since when am I not being called ginger anymore?”

“Since Freya.”

Finn sat down, pulling Ivy into his lap, “Freya is the new ginger?”

Freya rolled her eyes, “Rather be ginger than blonde as a guy.”

“Many women want a blonde man,” replied Callum.

“You know what they say about blonde men,” said Ivy, “They’re all evil.”

Callum scoffed, “Oh please, evil? Me? I’m an angel.”

Freya snorted at his words, “A fallen angel maybe.”

“Oi, watch your words, carrots.”

“You little-”’

Callum and Freya got into an argument about whether Callum is or is not like an Angel, meanwhile Oliver handed out everyone a can of beer.

Eventually, Ivy pulled Oliver and Finn into the boathouse to “grab more beer”.

“Do you think it’s wise to leave them alone?” asked Finn.

“It’s the plan,” answered Ivy.

Oliver looked at Ivy as if she had grown a second head, “The plan is that they kill each other?”

“No,” argued Ivy, “the plan is that they’ll start tolerating each other.”

“This isn’t a romcom, Ivy.”

“Shut up, nerd.”

Outside on the deck.

Callum kept trying to find new ways to annoy Freya.

“You know, I’ve heard that anaesthesia  doesn’t work on gingers. Is that true?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you guard a pot of gold in your free time?”

Freya rolled her eyes, turning to him, “You know what?”

Callum raised an eyebrow, “What?”

“You’re lucky.”

“Lucky how?”

“That you’ll never have to worry about developing brain cancer, since you’d need to have a brain for that.”

Callum grinned, taking no offense to her words, “Real charming, for a ginger at least.”

“What’s your problem with gingers?”

“Nothing, they’re my type actually.”

Freya stared at Callum, “What?”

“They’re my type,” repeated Callum calmly.

“What?” asked Freya again.

“Means that I’m attracted to girls, who are ginger.”

“I know what you meant, you moron.”

“Then stop asking why like you're some kindergartener.”

“Why would you tell me that?”

“In hopes that you maybe have a hot sister?

Freya smacked his upper arm, “asshole.”

“Calm down, I’m joking,” said Callum, still having that stupid grin on his face.

She rolled her eyes, “Doesn’t make a difference.”

Callum changed the topic, seeming to be satisfied with his teasing, “Why did you move here anyway?”

“Because I loved the idea of living in a village with more sheep than people,” answered Freya wryly.

“Smartass, why did you move here?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Obviously.”

“My mom died.”

“Elena?”

“Why do you know her name?”

Callum shook his shoulder, “Everyone knows her, she’s from here.”

“Then why would you ask why I moved here?”

“How am I supposed to know it’s because of your mother’s death?”

“Common sense, oh wait, you’d need a brain for that.”

After a while of silence, Callum spoke again.

“Actually, my mom died too, a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Why?”

“It’s been years, I’m over it.”

Freya looked at him, he seemed to be oddly nonchalant about this topic.

“How did she die?”

“Bled to death, self inflicted.”

“Oh.”

“Is it true what they say?”

“What do you mean?”

“That your mother got murdered.”

“We don’t know yet, it could've been just an accident.”

“Do you believe it was an accident?”

“No.”

Callum opened up a new can of beer and took a sip.

Seeming to not be able to handle any kind of vulnerability, “Have you tried getting over it?”

Ivy,Oliver and Finn, who had been listening from an open window, turned away with a grimace when they heard his words.

“This fucking idiot,” mumbled Ivy.

Oliver mocked his words, “Have you tried getting over it?”

“No wonder this idiot is still single,” said Finn, to which Ivy and Oliver agreed.

After the hangout, Freya walked home alone.

She was 10 minutes away from home when she heard something in the forest next to her.

Knowing it was a dumb idea to check what it was, she still decided to take a look out of curiosity.

As she stepped off the path into the almost pitch black forest, she looked between the trees, trying to spot whatever made the sound.

Freya exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding when she saw a deer a few meters  away from her. She assumed the sound came from the deer until something spooked the deer, causing it to run away.

Freya was alerted again and looked in the direction the deer ran into, trying her best not to make a sound.

The forest was quiet except for the birds chirping and the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind.

As a branch snapped close by, Freya ran out of the forest and back home out of instinct, not looking back to see if whatever it was, was following her.

When she arrived at the Farmhouse, out of breath, she opened the door and kicked her shoes off.

Wilma stood near the stairs as she looked at Freya concerned, “Are you alright, my dear? Why are you so out of breath?”

“It’s nothing,” lied Freya, “I was just so worried it was gonna start raining again, that’s all.”

“Mh well, have you had dinner? I was just going to set the table.”

Freya smiled, trying her best to look as normal as possible, walking into the kitchen and taking a seat.

Later in her bedroom, she changed out of her clothes and sat down on her bed. She tried her best not to think about it anymore, but all her brain could think about, was now not only the figure, but also whatever she encountered in the forest.

Outside her door was Tina, meowing to be let in. After the fifth meow, Freya got annoyed and stood up to let her in. Tina jumped up onto her bed and settled at the end of her mattress. Freya laid down as well and pulled the blanket over herself. 

The room was filled with the sound of Tina purring, while Freya’s mind was still racing with the unknown figure. Eventually she closed her eyes, hoping for a sleep that never came.