Prologue

Snow fell like a whisper through the bare branches overhead. Somewhere above the grey blanket of clouds, a cold sun slipped below the horizon, and the woods were silent. Only the soft crunch of footsteps landing in the fresh carpet of snow broke the encompassing silence. It was surely the last snowfall of the year, already midway through March, but the month made no difference to stubborn Winter. Only the wetness of the snow betrayed the changing season, and the man’s footsteps turned the ground to mud.

He would have to get back soon. His wife was waiting back at home, and his six-year-old son. They would probably be waiting for him to have dinner. Hard to say which of them would be growing more impatient. He had been walking through these woods for over an hour, just relishing the quiet and the solitude. Out here, he could get away from the nagging of his aging wife. Out here, he could escape the endless questioning and inextinguishable energy of his son. Out here, he was alone.

Not alone.

A few steps more revealed an isolated splotch of crimson staining the white snow. There were footprints—not his own, and not all human—all around. They stretched out across his path, many sets, running through these very trees. Hardly any snow covered them now. The man shivered unconsciously. Whoever, and whatever, had left these tracks in the snow could not have passed more than a few minutes before. One end trailed off to another edge of the woods. The other end, the end that ran in the same direction as its makers, disappeared behind a thick patch of brush and undergrowth.

The man approached the thicket with trepidation. More crimson spilled out from behind the dark bushes, the spots and splatters finally coalescing into a wide pool that was still soaking into the ground. There were heavy marks, as if something had been dragged a short distance, and then the footprints continued, all human now, into the distance. There were much fewer footprints on that side of the stain.

Something moved and cried out from the thick of the bushes, causing the man to very nearly leap out of his own skin. The cry came again, and did not stop. The man finally recognized it. Oh so carefully he pushed aside the prickly leaves to reveal a tiny infant, barely a week old. It was wrapped almost completely in a thick, green blanket, sheltered from the cold air and the thorny underbrush. The man pulled the infant from the brush, taking great care not to let it be scratched.

When the infant felt itself in his arms it fell silent, content that it was no longer alone. It stared up at the man, its eyes wide and blue, a piercing blue that made the man shiver again. He held the infant close and hurried out of the woods as quickly as his feet would take him, the drifting snowflakes stinging cold against his face.

He stepped through his front door to be greeted by his waiting wife and son. She immediately demanded an explanation for his delay but was stopped short by the sight of the small green bundle in his arms. His son was no more than mildly interested, assuming that this must be the natural way to acquire new babies. His wife was noticeably more interested, especially in what he planned to do with the child that he had rescued from the woods. They contacted the state, but nobody could find a record of the child. The man and his wife cared for the infant until they could find her parents. For months, they searched for the child’s parents. In the end they were told that there was nothing more to be done. The child was in all likelihood an orphan, and should be put up for adoption immediately.

His wife resisted. She had wanted another child for quite some time, especially after she had learned that her son would be her last. She had taken care of the infant for almost three months, and she would not be parted now. The state agreed. By the end of June, the adoption had been finalized. The child was now theirs.

They named her Mary.

Reviews

[Matalia Riordan]

I really liked this, it definitely caught my interest by I felt like the last paragraph when he brings the child home is rushed. If you put some more information in it and slow that paragraph down a bit this would be really good. I'm intrigued, I want to find more about this child.


Matalia