Prologue
Her tiny feet pattered across the grass quickly like she was being chased; her thoughts were spattered with lingering dreams of freedom and curiosity. As she reached the line drawn by nature to separate the trees and her new large back yard, she paused just long enough to peek over her shoulder to make sure her Daddy was too busy unloading the moving truck to notice where she'd run off to. With a small giggle, she crossed that line and her toes sunk into the seemingly inhabited land of the woods.
The wideness of her eyes, as her gaze wandered through her dense surroundings, spoke volumes of how different her new home would be compared to the one she was born in. In Atlanta, the buildings took place of the trees and the stars never shone down from the heavens; she had been promised by her Momma that they would tonight. She shivered in response to her new surroundings but a small smile played at her tiny, pink lips because this was a whole new world for her. Not that she didn't like the hustle and bustle of the city but this…this was like a dream for her innocent little mind.
When her parents had sat her down and told her that they had bought a house in the country, she nearly deafened them with her squeal of excitement. The outdoors had always been her favorite place to be. She'd beg her Momma to take her to the park or on leisurely walks around the block so she could inhale the sweet fresh air and feel the wind against her cheeks. Every so often, her Daddy would take her on a drive out to where houses were scarce and land seemed to stretch for miles. He'd point out different landmarks and she'd listen to him like her parents listened to Pastor Eugene at church on Sundays. For a young girl, her brain thirsted for knowledge—even if that knowledge consisted of how they get the corn to grow so tall or why exactly it's necessary to hunt animals.
The little girl trampled slowly around the woods, making sharp noises with every footstep she took. There was little mind paid to how much mud her good, white church shoes collected or how often the hem of her baby blue dress brushed against a dirty tree. There was too much to see and too much to explore for little things like that to matter. A small ways into the forest, she found a creek and smiled at the tiny life that floated on the surface, thinking about all the fun things she could collect and bring home to her parents. Dragonflies buzzed by her ears, frogs hopped along the mud and tiny minnows darted through the crisp, clear water like they were on a mission. She giggled at a particular frog that had a heck of a time trying to make its way onto a small rock; it kept slipping and falling back into the water with a small plunk.
Just as she was about to give it a helping little pat on the rump, she heard a noise behind her. She jumped and turned around quickly, expecting to see her father using his dark, bushy eyebrow as a scolding tool. Instead, her eyes broadened to see a small boy, about her age, looking at her with a frown on his face. The boy was skinny and dirty; the only piece of clothing he had on was a pair of denim shorts that were much too big for his frame. Everywhere that his skin was exposed, there were patches of dirt, covering small bruises that he had no doubt gotten from the exposed limbs of the trees surrounding them. His hair was brown and messy; his eyes a blue that reminded the girl of her sweet Nana Betty whom they'd left in Atlanta. Except Nana Betty never looked so darn afraid.
"Hi," she squeaked, smiling at the boy who continued to do a combination of frowning and blinking. "We just moved in to that house back there."
The boy pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and started gnawing on it. At this point, the girl was certain that he had no idea what she was saying, like Mowgli from The Jungle Book.
"Do you live out here?" Her imagination was running wild; thoughts of the boy, swinging from tree to tree and making friends with all the animals made her smile at him. "Up in the trees?"
His frown turned into an expression of confusion and he slowly shook his head; the flesh of his bottom lip popped out of his mouth as he grazed his fingernails along his arm, itching himself.
She sighed. "I'm Emma Grace Whitfield," she said proudly. "I come from Atlanta. You ever been to Atlanta?" He shook his head again and as she continued to speak, the tension in the boy's muscles seemed to slowly melt. She took that as a sign to keep on rambling because her Momma had always told her that the way into a stranger's heart is by kindness. "Atlanta is fun but I like it here, too. There's lots of things to do here. My Daddy said that he's gonna build me a big tree house up in that tree in our backyard." She pointed toward the direction of the house… or what she thought was the direction of the house and the boy's blue eyes followed her movement. "You can come and play up there with me sometime, if you want."
Now he was looking at her as if he'd never seen anyone before and at this point, she was certain that her Jungle Book theory held water. She imagined teaching him things like how to wear shoes and the alphabet; giving him his first taste of strawberry ice cream. Maybe, her parents would let him live in that bedroom that no one was using instead of her Momma turning it into a stitching room.
"You like ice cream?" The boy shrugged and took a cautious step toward her. Her smile grew. "You ever had ice cream?"
He swallowed and after a few moments, nodded his head. "Yup."
She nearly jumped for joy at the small sound that came from him but settled for hopping up on her toes a few times. "What's your favorite flavor?"
"I only ever had 'nilla before," he replied. His voice was different from hers but she paid no mind because her Nana always said that differences in people made the world a better place. "'Spose, I'd like others."
She nodded. "Strawberry is my favorite." With no hesitation, she walked closer to him and sat her small rump on a large, moss-covered log that was sure to ruin her dress for good. But her thoughts were on other things at the moment and she'd deal with the repercussions of her carelessness when she returned home to her Momma and Daddy. She used the palm of her pale, soft hand to pat the log beside her. "You can sit down, if you want."
For some reason, this seemed to frighten the boy and he looked around as if he were searching for someone; then he looked the little girl up and down, his eyes getting larger when he zeroed in on her feet. "Ya shoes are gonna need cleaned."
She held up a foot, the mud causing the weight of her foot to startle her. "Sometimes, my Momma gets mad at me when I get dirty. Does your Momma get mad at you for gettin' dirty?"
He rubbed his palms against the thighs of his shorts. "I can help you clean 'em if you want."
Her smile was bright and it nearly made the boy smile along with her. "What's your name?"
He ran a hand through his mess of brown hair and said, "Daryl."
"Nice to meet you, Daryl," she said, proud that she'd remembered exactly how to introduce herself in a polite manner. "I'm Emma."
"You done said that," he said, his eyes searching the trees again.
"You live here?" she repeated because she was convinced that he did even though he'd shook his head in response the first time she'd asked. "I bet it's fun to live up in the trees."
His face scrunched up. "I live back that'a ways… just before you get to the grain mill."
Her face lit up. "I live by that mill place, too." She swung her foot in a casual gesture and the mud pulled her shoe right off her foot. The boy's eyes trained in on the shoe—that had zero whiteness to it all anymore—and they nearly bugged out of his skull. She giggled again at his expression and he shook himself, his eyes searching the trees again. "What are you looking for? You see an animal?"
Excitement nearly made her burst as she thought of possibly seeing wildlife on the first day in her new house. Her Daddy had promised her deer and rabbits and raccoons on their long drive out to the new house but the thought of seeing one, just that second, made her internally squeal.
"Nah, my brother is out 'ere somewhere," he answered. "He won't be none too happy to see me talkin' to ya."
She tilted her head, a ring of dark curls falling over her shoulder and nearly onto her lap. "Why? You're brother ain't nice?"
He shrugged. "Sometimes, he can be but not today. I made him mad this morning so he's out lookin' for me."
"Why'd he get mad at 'cha?" she asked, tilting her head in question.
He hesitated, looking the girl up and down again as if he was trying to judge in those few seconds of consideration whether she could be trusted. "I put a snake in his boot."
The little girl gasped softly. "A snake?"
He shrugged and then nodded his head, suddenly looking quite a bit guilty for his admission as he focused his eyes on his dirty, bare feet.
"What's he gonna do when he finds you?" Her voice had turned to a whisper, for reasons that she couldn't explain. "Is he gonna be mean to you?"
It didn't seem to matter to Emma that the boy did, in fact, put a snake in his brother's shoe and there were absolute reasons why Daryl was being hunted by his brother. Her concern lay with Daryl, since he was being so nice to her and she was willing to bet that at some point, his brother had done something to him that was just as foolish. Emma couldn't explain this unexpected protectiveness she felt for Daryl, especially since she was no bigger than him.
In response to her obvious concern, he smiled at her for the first time. "He'll get over it. I just hafta stay clear of 'em till then."
Emma shared a moment of a smile with him before hearing her name being called loudly by her father. If memory served her correctly, the tone of his voice indicated that he was slightly panicked and she was sure that there was a lecture waiting for her on the other side of those trees.
"Tha' your Daddy?" he asked, his eyes looking in the direction that her name was coming from. There was a foreign emotion in clear blue eyes that the little girl couldn't decipher, most likely because of her naïve and innocent lifestyle.
She nodded, her eyes growing in size. "He's gonna be mad when I get back. I sorta sneaked off." With a noise, she stuffed her foot back into her shoe and yanked it free from the mud. She smiled at the skinny boy and waved with the tips of her fingers. "I'll see ya, Daryl."
When she went to move past him, he reached out and crooked his fingers around her elbow. "You live up in that big 'ol blue house with the white porch?" She nodded. "That big house is that'a way." His skinny finger pointed in the opposite direction from where she was headed.
"Thank you," she squeaked, moving past him again to go in the direction he pointed.
She stomped through the forest toward her new house, her muscles growing weary from carrying so much extra weight of mud and grime. By the time she reached the tree line and she saw her parents heading toward her with concern written all over their faces, she was exhausted. Before she could start preparing herself for her Momma's concerned reprimand or her Daddy's signature eyebrow, the sound of a snapping twig caused her to look over her shoulder.
Daryl stood beside a big rock, his fingers scratching at his arm and his eyes squinting at her from the distance. She smiled to herself when she realized that he'd followed her home.
