There was no sun. Only fire.

Heat lapped at her ankles as she leapt over burning logs and burnt creatures. There wasn't much time. Her graceful legs vaulted across a ravine and slowed to a stop in a barren clearing. All the grass had burned, leaving only dirt and ash.

She fell to her knees and thrust her fists into the earth. She had to do something--anything--to save them.

She said a prayer and called out to the moon. The smoke was too thick to tell, but it seemed that clouds were gathering overhead.

Her tears mixed with rain drops as the skies opened.

She dug her fists in deeper and called forth the storm.

Then, she was no longer a girl but the trees. Her delicate leaves burning quickly, her bark blazing, her roots dry. Then the sky leaned down and kissed her, cooling and wetting her body, bringing her back to life.

Then, she was the rain. Falling. Reaching. Touching. Dying.

Then, she was something in between the trees. Her eyes glowed yellow and her teeth gnashed sharp. She saw her former body in the clearing and felt hunger blossom deep within. She would have that body. She would use it. She would consume it. She would--

Ruth woke up with a start.

Instinctively, she swatted at her clothes as if the dream-fire still raged. An old man in the seat across chuckled and Ruth shot him a finger gun. Day one of independence was going great.

The seat was rough beneath her legs and threatened to snag runs in her already worn tights. Ruth shifted carefully and closed her honey eyes once more, head resting against the vibrating window of the train.

Birchfield was the very last stop on this train line. For three long hours, Ruth had jittered along in her economy compartment with only fields and fields of corn to keep her eyes occupied.  

If this was the price of freedom, Ruth was more than happy to pay.

Her eyes flashed open again as the train turned and her head smacked against the window. The old man laughed once more and Ruth made a big show of putting her headphones in before throwing another half-hearted finger gun his way.

Ruth tucked her black curls behind her ears and slipped her phone out of her shorts pocket. She swiped in her password and tapped spotify, shuffling her travel playlist.

As "Send me on my way" blew through her ears, Ruth couldn't help but smile. She was starting her new life today. Far away from her mother's increasing unreliableness. Far away from the folk tales and scary bedtime stories that painted her childhood. Far away from the Wolf.

Ten minutes later, the trees grew thicker and the train began to slow. "Birchfield - last stop" flashed dimly on the screen over the compartment doors.

Mr. Old Man creaked up out of his seat and hobbled over to Ruth. He wore a cardigan and one of those hats a victorian newspaper boy would wear. His moustache was as gray as his eyes. He reached out a hand and tapped Ruth on the shoulder. She yanked out her headphones and stuffed them in her bag.

"Do you have a place to stay in town, miss?"

Ruth bent down to grab one of her bags from under the seat. "What? Oh, yeah I'm staying with my gram."

The old man tipped his hat. "Good. Well, don't stray and be late."

Ruth stopped. "What am I, red ridinghood or something?

The old man's twinkly eyes hardened. "Bad things happen in Birchfield to pretty girls who don't mind the wood."

"Okay, okay, don't worry, I'll be careful." Ruth sent him a wink and it worked, he shuffled the rest of the way out of the car and off the train.

Ruth smiled and shook her head. More impossible stories no doubt. She stepped nimbly into the aisle and reached up to grab her suitcase off the upper rails. She managed to get ahold of the handles, but as she hefted it down, one of her shoelace loops caught on the metal seat and she fell--right into the arms of the boy standing behind her.

"Woah," he gently pushed her back to her feet, "you alright?"

"Yeah, I--I just got caught on the chair. I'm fine," Ruth stammered.

He was unbelievably pretty. Hair soft like fresh baked bread, dainty features, kind eyes. His hand was warm where it brushed hers, handing her the suitcase she'd dropped in the fall.

Ruth tucked her hair behind her ears and pulled herself together. As she made her way down the aisle, the boy followed closely behind.

"Thanks for catching me, by the way. I'm Ruth."

"No worries," he smiled, "it's not like I had to try that hard anyway. And don't mind that old guy. His wife left him back in '85 and he's been convinced the woods took her ever since." The boy stopped for a moment, peering at her face. "Ruth...Ruth. Why do I know that name?"

Ruth shrugged and stepped lightly off the train and onto the platform.

"Wait." He stopped mid-step, halfway out of the train. "Are you Mrs. Radley's granddaughter?"

Ruth grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the way. "Sure am, what gave it away?"

He still stared at her, "You have her eyes."

Ruth snapped her fingers to bring him back into focus. "How do you know Gram?"

"Oh," he shook his head, clearing it of whatever made his face go all misty, "I'm Noah, I do odd jobs for your grandma, running errands, mowing the lawn, that sort of thing."

Ruth blinked. "Oh, you're Arlo's son, Gram's mentioned you in her letters before."

Noah smiled and checked his watch. Ruth gazed at Birchfield for the first time in ten years. 

The charm was just as she remembered. Worn signs hung above old businesses sitting on cobbled streets with plenty of benches and flowers. She picked out places jumping like grasshoppers from her memory. The general store and the kind man who ran it. The sandwich shop on the corner with the best lemonade. The bakery a street over that always sent her home with bread for Gram. The little boutique where she bought her first red hat, not unlike the crimson beanie she wore today. She smelled the air, rich with the scent of forest and farmland.

And there, in the town square, was the towering birch tree she loved to play around as a kid. 

Ruth was finally home.

A car rushed past them on the street and the spell was broken. Looking a little closer, Ruth realized that Birchfield had changed some in the decade she'd been gone. The roads looked different, there were more buildings she didn't recognize, and her sense of direction was nowhere to be found. Ruth suddenly felt very lost, and very alone.

"Hey, I'm actually heading up towards Mrs. Radley's right now." Noah tilted his head towards hers. "I could use the company."

The soft afternoon light lit up Noah's tawny hair. He stood silhouetted against the woods, at ease and so sweet. Ruth's eyes ran up and down his form, noticing his worn shoes, his modest watch, his nice arms in his nice shirt so carefully tucked into a pair of well-used jeans. Her eyes shot up to his face but got caught on something lurking behind him in the trees. Something glinting and yellow. Something watching. Something waiting. She blinked and whatever it was had gone. 

Noah took a step towards her. "Shall we?"

Ruth smiled, adjusting her red hat. "Lead the way."