Chapter One: Gift

The air whistled past her ears, and she wanted to shut her eyes for the wind was making them drip like a waterfall. She didn't close them, however, because she didn't want to miss any of it. She expected to feel her hair fly around like anime characters getting shocked, but it was as if her hair didn't exist. She flapped her wings (that replaced her arms) a couple times to gain height, and the velocity at which she glided down was so great, so breath-taking, she actually did close her eyes. She felt the familiar sense in her stomach that she was falling... falling into a deep...

Reality.

Although she didn't jump out of bed, she was still surprised, even after having the same dream for months, that it wasn't real. When she dreamed, she felt liberated, light. She floated on the wind, and not once was she sad... except when the dream ended. That was the worst part: finding out it was just a dream, just her wild imagination playing tricks on her again. Sometimes her thoughts were so wild, she creeped herself out. What kind of normal eleven-year-old girls dreamed about being an owl? No-one she knew even dreams about being an animal for more than one dream... but Sam wasn't exactly normal.

"Samara Chandree!" Nora called up the stairs. Sam turned around to glance at her clock. She was startled that it was already ten-thirty. She had slept late this morning; usually, she was up by eight. She groaned, flicking on the lamp that sent harsh light to interfere with her eyes. She could see the inverted colouring imprinted on her retina as she looked around her usually cluttered room- ahem, attic. Her mind skittered around, trying to rest on an option. Staying where she was and pretending to be asleep so Nora would leave her alone was Plan A. Plan B was for her to drag her caffiene-deprived body off her soft, warm bed and attempt to shove aside the mountains of books that were supposed to be in boxes.

Sam could hear creaking on the rungs of the ladder, getting louder with each passing one, signalling Nora was coming Sam's way. Sighing, she took one last look around her room, and decided Plan A was more to her satifaction. She clicked off the lamp, pulled her pillow over her head, and closed her eyes just as Nora entered her step-daughter domain. Yeah, that's right. Step-daughter. Sam's mother Taryn had died when she was seven, due to drowing. She had been teaching at a school in London, so Sam reasoned she shouldn't be hurt about it; she barely remembered her and it's not like her mother had any time for her. She had seen her mother for a few months out of the year. But Sam did remember that the time she'd spent with her mother was the happiest times of her life. Nora tried hard everyday, but no-one could replace Taryn.

Thinking about Taryn brought tears to Sam's eyes, so by the time Nora arrived at her bed, Sam was crying. "Oh honey," Nora cooed, "are you alright?" Sam thought this was a very stupid question, but she didn't say anything. She attempted to take control of herself again, earning her shaky breaths and a sympathic look from Nora. Sam actually did like Nora; Sam thought she was wonderful. But it's when Nora tried to take the place of Taryn that Sam got a little cheesed off with her. Otherwise, the time Sam spent with Nora, she treasured... just not as fondly as she would have with her mother. Nora seemed to be reading her thoughts, and to prove so, she told Sam, "You missing your mom is perfectly understandable at your tender age."

"I'm not tender!" Sam argued defensively. "I just knackered. I just need some more sleep." Denial, she knew, but she paid no recognition to it. She rolled over, putting her back to Nora. She could almost feel Nora's frown and the tears of rejection welling in her eyes. For a moment, Sam was caught off guard; she didn't like people being upset, especially her oldies. "Your father-" Her voice broke, and Sam, flabbergasted, turned towards her. "Dean," Nora continued, turning away so Sam could not see the tears she already knew were there. "He made you all a jaffle, if you're interested..." Sam placed a firm hand on Nora's shoulder. "Nora," she began, feeling like a dag because she didn't call her "mom" like Nora would have liked. "I-"

"Go eat something, child," Nora inturrupted, not wanting to share her feelings. Nora could be, if given the chance, more guarded with her emotions than Sam. Sam broke out, "In a tic, Nora...I need to say I'm a galoot, and I'm sorry. I haven't seen my mother in four years, and I have to realize eventually she will never come back." She felt relieved when Nora nodded and embraced her with enthusiam. She loved these moments, and during them, she could picture a happier time, before her mother had abandoned her. She felt like the sun would rise again, not because it had to, but because it wanted to. Nora stroked her hair, and chastised, "Honey, please don't call yourself names, and you can't apologize for something that's not your doing. Don't knock yourself, it isn't polite."

"Neither am I." Sam concluded, getting up. Taking Nora's hand, she brought her off the bed and decended the ladder from the attic first, jabbering to Nora the entire way. "I think there's a blowie in my room, I could hear the twit all night long. Maybe that's why I'm so zonked." Nora joined Sam at the bottom of the ladder and the two of them made it into the living room, where Sam's older brother Theo was captivated by the telly. Theo whinged constantly, earning shouting from Sam and happy baby cries from Sam's little sister Raven. Raven, currently, was rather wrapped, whacking her rattle on the side of her highchair as she consumed a toasted bacon sandwhich, which turned Sam's attention on grub. "Nora said you had a jaffle for me?" she asked her father.

Dean turned to her from the refridgerator, and pointed to the table, where no less than three jaffles waited for her. Usually not a morning person, Dean wandered from the fridge to the table, carrying an alligator pear. Sam took her stool and began devouring. Sam didn't eat her her body weight times two in food per day; usually, it was only breakfast that turned on her feeding frenzy. Of course, living in the back blocks, that was natural. One needed a full stomach to work on, and usually the adrenaline kept the body moving all day long. Whereas some people didn't eat breakfast and ate lunch and dinner, Sam ate in the morning and only in the morning, otherwise she couldn't sleep because of her headache.

"Dad, I think you have an alligator pear problem," Sam offered, biting into her sandwich. Dean raised an eyebrow, asking, "What's wrong with avacados?" Sam shrugged and took another (ten) bite(s). "Nothing," Nora interjected, giving Sam a stern look before smiling in a prankster-manner. "In moderation," she finished with a rather large grin. Dean grunted, grumpy as per usual. Sam remembered Taryn used to be a morning person... To avoid tears, she focused on her jaffle. It was overflowing with bacon and flavour, the perfect distraction. Once she was done, she looked to Theo, nestled on the couch. He sat in that same spot in the exact same position so often, Sam could swear the couch had Theo's arse-mould on it.

Sam spent the rest of the day working in the orchard, picking boombera from her father's macadamia trees. Not only are macadamia nuts were amazingly healthy, but the plant is great for the skin. Unfortunately for Avago (the dog who attempted and failed at pretty much everything), boombera were toxic to dogs, and that's why Dean's macadamia orchard was surrounded by a chain-link fence: for the dog's safety. Inside Sam's house, macadamia plants were everywhere, its glossy foilage used for ornamental purposes. While she worked, she had her fair share of macadamia nuts as well. She also watched the wildlife all around her, meaning the Hycinth Macaws pecking a fair few of the nuts out of the trees. Because Dean overproduced, he didn't set up a scarecrow or any other type of defense mechanism.

By sunset, Sam, exhausted and cheerful, went back inside to to clean herself off. The overalls that she had thrown on after breakfast were grass-stained and dirt-streaked. Her white tank top she wore underneath was soaked in sweat. As she changed into her pajamas, she felt proud of her productivity for the day. She had been working as often as possible for five days now; she would miss the fields when they would move. Dean had told her they were moving to England, a scary thought for Sam. "They all talk gaga, and I know no-one there!" Sam had protested. But Dean had made up his nutty mind. Sam was depressed she wouldn't be able to work in the orchard anymore. They had fought, and Dean had even compromised: he would bring a tree to London. It wasn't good enough for Sam, but she had given up, viewing the I've-made-up-my-mind expression on her father's face.

Thinking about the argument, Sam had gotten angry all over again. She wondered how Dean could leave behind all of his trees, his business, his life. She wondered how Nora felt about all of this, leaving her hometown. She wondered why, if Dean was just going to move back, did he bother to move to Australia in the first place. She wondered why they were moving to London, where it was rainy and drab all the time. She wondered why they had to move at all, for that matter. And she wondered, last but not least, why it had to be the city that Taryn had died in. She briefly thought about the school she would go to, for that matter, and if it would be the one that had caused Taryn to die. Finally, she accepted it; with a mission.

If Sam was going to move, she was going to uncover the secret, the truth behind her mother's death. She would spare no expense and do whatever it took to find out what truly happened to her mother. She made this resolve as she tucked herself in bed, abandoning a book for tonight. Thinking of a book, she found herself crtisizing the mess of literature on her floor. She figured she could clean her room tomorrow, before working. Of course, "clean" wasn't the accurate word. It was more of "pack". Her hometown, the place that she had lived all her life, was going to be worlds away. She had never stepped foot out of Queensland, and now she was moving to an entire different continent. Needless to say, she was terrifed.

As Sam drifted off to sleep, she could remember, or maybe imagine, the words her mother used to say to her before she slept: "I know you pulled me in, Mara. I know you have that power. And when you're old enough, you'll know why. You have a gift, honey. You call out to people. If you call out loud enough, they'll hear you and they'll help you, sweetheart. Whenever you need me, just call my name and I'll be with you in your dreams." Because Sam didn't know if that was true or not, she didn't call out for her mother. She didn't call out to anyone. She kept to herself and drifted off, prepared to let the flight of her dream lift her from underneath her wings.

That didn't happen.

Instead, she was in the living room, alone on the couch, covered by a quilt. She wondered, for a breif kooky moment, if she had fallen asleep on the couch and didn't remember. But she was a lucid dreamer, meaning she knew that this was a dream and not real life. The telly was on, turned to a grainy channel that looked like black and white snow cascading in a blizzard. Confused, she rused forwards and clicked the button that would normally shut the telly off, but the screen did not fade to black. "Theo!" shouted Sam, preparing to tell Theo to fix his precious telly. The screen became clearer, and she could see a male figure, profiled on the screen. "Sam?" the figure called, sounding strikingly familiar. "Samara Olivia Wendy Lynne Chandree, you better have a good explanation!" the male screamed at her. Once the last word was out of his mouth, the picture came immediately into focus. "Theo!" Sam greeted, waving, although normal telly didn't work that way.

Of course, she reminded herself, this was a dream.

"Sam, what's happening?" Theo panted, looking out of breath. The scene behind him was not to Sam's fancy; a rather large creature, half lion half eagle, was heading strait towards Theo. "Look out!" Sam screamed at Theo, attempting to pound the telly. Instead, her fist went right through it. Theo instinctively grabbed on and Sam pulled him out of the telly and into the living room. Startled at what she had done, it was Theo who had to unplug the telly to prevent the monster from following him. "Are you alright, Theo?" asked Sam, still flabbergasted. Theo nodded, putting in, "Thought I was going to cark it there for a moment. I'm puffed! Thanks, pest." He appreciated her help quietly, and hesitantly pulled her into an embrace.

"Theo... you do know this is a dream, right?"

"Very funny, Sam."

Sam woke up to find herself in the living room in front of the telly, Theo sleeping in the armchair. How strange, she thought to herself.