Leaves crunching, wind whistling, sounds of sparrows. All sounds that Abigail Rosmere heard as she walked through the coloured forest. She loved it, yet hated it at the same time. It was nice to be out of town however, away from all the hustle and bustle. Especially from the orphanage she lived in. All the children in there were very snobby, stuck-up and only talked and cared about themselves.

Abigail was never interested in them. She'd much rather spend as much time as she could alone. At night, she sometimes overheard the other children tell each other tales before bed, mainly about the woods just outside of town. About how there were monsters and creatures of all shapes and sizes with no other intention than to hunt you down and eat you alive. About how the forest came alive at night, filled with wild animals and witchery. And, most importantly, of how there were people of the woods who were said to have the power heal any injury. How those people were rumoured to roam as wolves by night while their human form laid sleeping. 

That was the only story that they (and Abigail) took seriously. Those people were said to be called 'wolfwalkers'.

Abigail was highly interested in this theory. Often at night, she would sneak out into the woods in the hope to find one. And in the end, after months of unsuccessful attempts, she actually met a wolfwalker. A girl about the same age as Abigail was. A girl with a pack of wolves who seemed to fear nothing, not even the forest.

But the forest scared Abigail. She was scared of all the things that could happen to her. She was scared of pain. 

Correction.

 She was scared of going pain. 

This was thanks to what happened about 9 years ago, during a devastating war against another country across the border. She was only five when this war started. She had no idea what the hell was going on, but she was terrified at the same time. 

Abigail often recounted the toxic memory. She didn't know why. It made her sick every time. She missed her parents. 

But it was no use to think about it now. Both of her parents were dead. Killed by enemy soldiers in front of her eyes. Her mother, Frida, was killed first. Hit by crossfire, quickly followed by her father Adam's cries and pleads for mercy.

He didn't last much longer than that. After that she, as a little girl, ran. And she ran for a long time. 

This memory had been stuck with her her whole life. Every time she thought about that dark day as she walked, she had to stop by a tree or bush, being too afraid to go on any further. She kept reminding herself that nothing in these forests could do any harm to her. 

As long as Apholie was around.

Apholie Lilliput was the only good thing Abigail had left. A friend. She never made any friends at the orphanage. Which in her mind was good. She never wanted snobs as friends anyways.

Apholie was very different to Abigail. Crazy, frizzy, ginger orange hair that bobbed as she walked. It whipped wildly in the wind as she ran on her own two feet or when she was riding a wolf. Which she did often. 

A large green vine wall approached Abigail as she walked towards it. She had been here before. She wouldn't have known what to do if she wasn't a friend of Apholie's. She stopped right in front of it and gazed above. The wall stretched far beyond her head, nearly breaking the canopy. 

It was breathtaking!

 A couple of birds flew high above, darting and swooping through the air. They very quickly left her view. She looked back down and looked in front of her. 

"I'm here for Apholie" she said, strongly yet softly. The vines smoothly shuffled away with flickers of yellow light in-between them all.

Wolfwalker magic. 

She cautiously walked through. The light slowly dampened the further she went in, with the vines repositioning behind her as she walked. It was a magical feeling, knowing that she was allowed to pass through here anytime she liked. 

Eventually, she made to the other side. The sun greeted Abigail's face as she stopped to admire her surroundings. 

The wolf den. 

It was the most beautiful place she had ever been to before. There was a brief pure patch of sunlight before the canopy continued on with a stone archway for people to walk under to continue through the trees. It was covered in a variety of runes, symbols and carvings. The vine wall had two small waterfalls on each side, filled with lily pads and wildlife alike. 

Just as Abigail was about to walk on, she heard a noise.

It was Apholie. She had started to howl. 

The carvings in the stone lit up with yellow, showing themselves more. The bells came back, time time joined by a magical backdrop noise. 

All of this was beckoning Abigail to walk further.

And walk further, she did.

(I apologise if this sounds cringe. I promise it will get better!)