hook, regency, childhood
Thandi is in the woods. Deep in the woods. Much further than she’s ever managed before. She lugs her suitcase with both hands, trying not to let herself get washed away by another round of tears.
Her foot catches on a root and throws her forward, suitcase bursting with her things. Her wand, her spellbooks, her book-books, clothing, and a bag neatly folded up that she took from Vitani as she ran. There’s so much that Vitani would be disappointed in her in, so she added one more to the pile, thinking that the bag would be a big help. She’s too scared to use it, just yet, though.
The wind bites through her thin coat and Thandi wishes she had opted for the thicker one that hung higher in the closet, but…the tears start to spill and she curls in on herself, crying with all her might. With no one around, she could finally just let it all out.
A raven flaps down in front of her, head cocking to see her better. It hops closer, pokes at the bag of food tangled in her belongings. “Shoo!” she says. That food, she’s going to need it! “Shoo, bird!”
Again, it cocks its head and then opens its beak. “Hi!”
Thandi’s tears dribble to a halt and she peers closer to the raven. Is it magical?
“Hi!” The raven hops onto her knee, angling to and fro. It allows Thandi to stroke its beak and head, eyes closing in enjoyment. Then it pops up and utters another “Hi!” before flapping into the forest. Alone again.
Or, she thought as much, but she hears a quiet rustling in the brush. She sees a boy’s face peer from the bracken. It disappears into shadow again for a moment before he emerges from the brush, the raven on his shoulder. The raven croaks and the boy looks down at Thandi, considering.
She takes the chance to look him over. Everything he has is handmade, but for the boots on his feet. The boots, however, have taut leather strips in place of laces, and he’s wearing a leather coat stuffed with fur. It looks warm. His hair is a little shaggy. Is he… a feral child?
“What are you doing in my woods?” His voice is coarse, quiet, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while.
“I. I’m running away!”
“Looking like that? You’re going to die.” He tilts his head, as if listening to the bird on his shoulder. “I guess we can help you.”