‘Where are we going?’ I said. ‘Are we camping here for the night?’ I didn’t fancy lying on the ground all night. I was extremely vulnerable and exposed.
Hawthorne took me through the trees until the farm and its land was no longer in sight. This patch of forest was not dense, and a few minutes later, we emerged on the side of a hill. Looking to the top of the hill, I saw an old, broken down windmill. The mill was missing one of its propellers, and the brickwork looked as though it had been through a war. Nevertheless, it was shelter.
Hawthorne took me up the grassy hill, slipping in multiple rabbit holes along the way. Once we reached the top, I realized that this windmill was in a far greater state of disrepair than I had anticipated. It looked as though someone had lived inside its small quarters a long time ago. The door hung from its hinges, and a fine layer of dirt coated the ground. Hawthorne stepped over the threshold, and I ignited my palm to illuminate the space. The area was no bigger than a few square meters, and several owls had made their home in the high rafters. Droppings littered the wooden panels and the floor.
In the confined space, there was an old, broken armchair that was ripped and spilling its padding across the floor. Something wiggled under the upholstery. In another corner, was an old, steel bed frame with no mattress. There were other miscellaneous items scattered around the floor: a broken jug, pieces of glass from a fractured window, and a stuffed teddy-bear that was missing several limbs.
‘Really?’ I asked Hawthorne, crinkling my nose. I suppose I shouldn’t complain; he’d spotted this windmill from the sky and chosen it as a safe place to rest for the night. However, my skin crawled at the very sight of the place.
Hawthorne grabbed the cushions of the armchair in his mouth and placed them on the floor in a row. He’d made me a bed.
He lowered himself to the ground so I could slide off his back and onto the moldy, old cushions. Tears stung my eyes as I climbed down. Once I was on the ground, Hawthorne circled the round room once before lying in a soft corner littered with stuffing from the armchair. He placed his head under his wing and prepared for sleep. He seemed in a bad mood.
My skin crawled as though a thousand insects were crawling over me as I lay on the cushions. I knew it was my imagination so I tried my best to ignore it and get some sleep. It was difficult. My leg throbbed angrily, the pain consuming every thought in my head.
Chapter Twelve
A Stubborn Horse
JACK GREENWOOD
‘What do you mean she left?’
Jack stood in the living room of his father’s home, glaring down at the pair sitting on the sofa.
‘Well, it’s complicated-’ his father began.
‘Complicated?’ Jack repeated. ‘What did you say to her?’
The couple looked at each other nervously. There was something they weren’t telling Jack.
‘What is it?’ he said, glancing between the two.
Caroline cleared her throat nervously. ‘Um, well. We had a little … uh … visit.’
‘Visit?’
‘The … well … guards showed up looking for Avalon, and well … I let them in.’
Jack’s face visibly paled. ‘You what?’
‘I didn’t think,’ Caroline said, her eyes wide. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Did they … did they take her?’
Caroline glanced at her husband before shaking her head. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘What do you mean you don’t think so?’
Caroline looked at Jack guiltily. ‘She escaped through the bathroom window, but they followed her. I don’t know if they found her.’
Jack collapsed onto the sofa and put his face in his hands. ‘And you haven’t seen her since she escaped through the bathroom window?’ he asked.
Caroline shook her head.
‘And where were you during all of this?’ Jack waved a hand at his father angrily.
His father gave a sideways glance at Caroline. ‘I was … incapacitated.’
‘That’s typical,’ Jack spat, standing up and beginning to pace. ‘That is so like you. You don’t give a damn what happens to your family.’
‘Now, that’s not true, Son,’ his father said, standing also. ‘Besides, it’s not like Avalon is family, technically.’
‘She’s my family,’ Jack said angrily, pointing a finger at his own chest.
‘There’s no use getting angry about it,’ his father said, raising his voice slightly. ‘Just sit and calm down.’
‘I will not calm down,’ said Jack fiercely. ‘My girlfriend is out there, somewhere … missing!’
It felt strange to refer to Avalon as his girlfriend. He knew what her reaction would be if she were here; he could picture the way her cheeks would turn crimson, and the way her lips would purse.
Jack’s father took a deep breath. ‘You’re not helping the situation by ranting and raving.’
Jack sat back down on the sofa, huffing angrily. It was not often he lost his temper, but he was so agitated by his father’s lack of help, that he was shaking. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.