"You mean that much to me

And it's hard to show

Gets hectic inside of me

When you go."

A bird cried out as the sound of a twig snapping echoed and bounced off the trees. Two more birds joined, giving high-pitched alert calls as the flock flew into the sky, squawking and screeching as their tiny wings carried them away.

"Logan!" a small girl hissed, turning around sharply to face her friend, a scowl souring her pointed feature.

"Sorry." Logan whispered his foot still on the twig he'd caused to snap, he glanced up, watching the last bird fly away, mesmerized. He had always liked birds, always admired their ability to fly. In fact, last year his vast imagination had led him to believe that he could fly as well and had made some sort of flying contraption that resulted in two fractured bones.

The girl slowly sank down so she was lying on her stomach, crawling army style across the forest floor. Her tights were ripping and her dress was getting dirty in the process, but she didn't seem to care. Logan sighed, following her lead and doing the same.

"Willow?" He stage-whispered, watching some of her unruly curls bob up and down as she crawled. Instead of replying, she paused for merely a nano-second, tilting her head to glance at him, indicating she'd heard him. "Willow, why did we come to the woods?" Logan loved adventures, and he loved that his new friend Willow was always up for one, but recently their little adventures had gone from fun to just plain creepy. It wasn't that he cared his jeans were getting muddy, but his mother had warned him not to go into the woods due to the ticks that usually resided there. Besides, it was starting to get dark.

"Because," she started, moving to avoid a fallen log, sarcasm dripping like acid from her voice. She opened mouth to continue speaking, and then clamped it shut suddenly. After a hesitation, she whispered in a hurried voice: "Shh. It's a secret!" Willow let out a small giggle, and Logan frowned. It seemed that with Willow, everything was a secret. The two continued along the forest floor, birds chirping as they passed under the trees. The sun was quickly sinking and with each dimming second Logan could practically sense his mother's worry, could imagine her pacing the front room, looking out the window – waiting for him.

"Will, I gotta go." Logan said, standing up suddenly brushing the dirt off him. Willow's head snapped up at his nickname for her - no one had ever called her Will before he came along. Her mother sometimes would have affectionately called her Wille, but never Will.

Secretly, she liked the nickname.

"Wha-? No! You can't!" She stood up as well, her features sagging and Logan's heart sank. She had a sad puppy face that could put a real puppy to shame.

"Okay, okay, but just a few more minutes." He said, giving in, and a bright grin spread across her lips. Willow's tiny hand reached out for his, clasping it tightly as she started to run, pushing prickers and grasses out of their way. Logan felt the dirt beneath his sneakers grow softer and finally Willow skidded to a halt, Logan bumping into her back.

They stood in front of a small, fast moving creek that went through the middle of the woods. Frogs and dragonflies buzzed about, and Logan couldn't help but be mesmerized by it. It was a whole new section of the woods he didn't know existed, didn't think it was possible for a little haven to exist smack dab in the middle of what seemed an endless sea of prickers and trees.

"Wow." He said, watching as a toad jumped into the murky water, making a small splash. Willow smiled, dropping his hand and searching until she found a lily, ripping it's petals off one by one and letting them fall into the water, the steady current taking them away quickly. "What are you doing?" He asked cautiously, no one ever knew what sort of answer they would receive when it came to Willow.

"Spreadin' ashes for my mama. Except I don't have her ashes, so I gotta use these petals. My Mama always liked these flowers." She nodded, letting the last pink petal fall. Logan cringed, Willow had moved here just two months ago from Georgia, and her family was the town outcasts. Instead of living in a two-story house in a close-knit neighborhood like Logan and the other children in their class, she lived in a shabby one-story house with a broken porch on the outskirts of town – near the very woods they were in. Her mother had died three weeks ago due to an allergic reaction, and her father was a big man with an even bigger temper. Logan's own mother never let him go over Willows house, and she never wanted to go to his, making them have to play together in places such as this. "Mama was the one to show me this place." She continued, speaking louder now. He frowned in respond, squinting in a scrutinizing manner at her. Ever since her mother had died, Willow never talked about her or anything that could relate to her home life. Neither did anyone else around her, to be honest. Yet here she was, talking about it as if were the most normal thing in the world. "If my Mama had ashes, she would want them here." Willow said, giving another nod for affirmation, but a sudden yell from the distance made her jump, cowering behind Logan.

"Wilooooowww!" the male voice boomed, and Logan instantly matched the voice to a face in his memory: Willow's father, Mr. Patterson. Although he was just calling for his daughter (she was probably late, like he now was) the tone sounded darker, some sort of hidden threat behind it.

"I need to go, and you do too, by the sound of it." Logan said quietly, starting to walk away.

"No! Please!" she begged, reaching out and grabbing his wrist before giving it a sharp tug, pulling him back to her. "Please don't make me go home!"

"Will." Logan sighed her name out, yanking his write free, taking slow steps away from her. Mr. Patterson called for her again, and her eyes widened.

"Please, please I dun wanna go home." She whispered, wiping some dirt of her cheek with the back of her hand. Logan frowned, why was she acting so strange? Willow was always a bit… off – but never like this. The sky was getting darker by the minute, and his own sense of the trouble waiting for him at home pushed his worried for his friend out of his mind, and he turned running back towards his house.

"I'm sorry. We can play tomorrow, all right?" He called, seeing the break in the trees up ahead, but when he looked over his shoulder, he found she was already gone.

That Saturday night was the last time anyone saw Willow Patterson again.

That is… until now.

"I couldn't spill my heart
My eyes gleam looking in from the dark
I walk out in stormy weather
Hold my words, keep us together
Steady walking but bound to trip
Should release but just tighten my grip."

Nightime. The xx.

Note: both Willow and Logan are nine years old in the prologue, this taking place in the past. Just a bit of background knowledge to be introduced, I hope on getting the next chapter up soon! Please R&R!

J.