Red means I’m fucked and might as well go home.
The last few times I’ve made this journey it’s taken me two hours, give or take a few detours to a yellow zone. Today, I’m aman on a mission, and after an hour and a half, the blue line of victory finally delivers the promise land.
Rushing water breaks through the soft sound of rain, the miserable looking creek supported by wooden beams that are barely strong enough to hold the weight of a child. Once upon a time, the structure might have been labelled a bridge but now I would be hard pressed to call it a fallen log.
Shimmying past the choppy pieces of wood, I jog over to the broken tree trunk that fared better than our unfortunate bridge. Pulling a piece of twine from my back pocket, I wrap it around the trunk twice before tying it around my waist and giving it a tug.
Not too shabby.
“Jasper would be shitting himself right now.”
A pang of homesickness slashes through my chest. It’s been a fucking week and I can barely stomach waking up each morning knowing my crew is halfway around the globe.
Rubbing my chest aggressively, I can feel the key burning a hole through my damp t-shirt. My crew owns the blank space beneath it, the family members who refuse to give up on me no matter how many times I fuck up.
Horace would be sulking about the rain right now.
“And Mae would be rolling her eyes every time a complaint flowed out of his mouth.” Chuckling to myself like an absolute nutcase, I heave the log over to where the crumbling bridge remains.
The current rushes dangerously below as I roll the thick bastard to the edge of the riverside. Eyeing the slippery surface of the bridge, I blow out a breath and send up a prayer.
The tug of twine is the only reassurance I get before I go running full force onto the log. Launching off the end, I jump towards railing, barely managing to get a foot hold before the momentum carries me forward.
Right foot. Left foot. Jump-
“Shit!”
Scrambling to make it the last few feet, I dive headfirst towards the riverbank. Painfully sharp rocks scrape my back as I tuck and roll onto the other side, the years of parkour training saving my ass once again.
Groaning like a man well past his prime, I force myself off the soggy grass and climb to my feet. Tattered pieces of fabric cling to the slick surface of my skin, the clean state of my shirt now ancient history.
Here’s to hoping there’s no dress code.
This side of the creek is unchartered territory, an endless batch of wilderness just waiting to swallow me whole. It would be daunting were it not for the plume of smoke coming from a nearby chimney, a chimney which marks the end of my destination.
“Heigh-ho, heigh-ho. It’s home from work we go.”
Whistles and stomping feet follow the distant chant, a group of men making their way home after a long’s day work.
I watch the small figures push and pull their minecarts along a rickety railroad. It’s been years since the railway was in active service but one desperate family continues to pick away at the abandoned mine, hoping to one day find some wealth buried within.
Seems like a stretch but I’m not one to criticize a poor man’s judgement.
Rusty wheels squeak along to the familiar chant, the colourful hats disappearing into an entrance that opens up just below the creek. It’s a tunnel that leads to the underground railway system, one that offers countless access points throughout Wolf Hollow, and more importantly, is easily accessible by the cottage standing before me.
It's an adorable fucking cottage, if I’m being honest.
Swooping low to the ground, wisteria covers the entirety of the wooden rooftop while ivy clings to the shrouded corners. Wooden beams bend and curve with the drastic slopes of the cottage while child-like hearts and bluebirds sing and dance along the windowsills.
It’s a drop of sunshine in a pot of misery, and if it weren’t for the aggressive shouting coming from inside, I would think this place was Wolf Hollow’s safe haven.
At least until the children get thrown into the witch’s oven.
“You’re such a fucking moron! Can’t you see the dustpan is right there?!”
“I-I-I’m s-sorry-
“You should be sorry. I’m sorry we have to put up with youevery fucking day!”
