Chapter One:
"Get up girls, jump to it!" Ms. Hill shouted. I opened my tired eyes, glancing out the window. Like always, dawn was still an hour away. I pushed myself into a sitting position and rubbed my eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden disturbance and light. I yawned repeatedly, which kept making my grass-green eyes water.
I slid off of my small bed, my bare feet hitting the cold wooden floor. I knelt down to pull out my dress. The threadbare garment is one of my only two dresses. I pulled off my thin night gown and then dressed for the day. As I ran a brush through my thick red hair, I winced as it caught a tangle. When my tangled mass of hair was tamed, I headed down the narrow staircase to breakfast. There was one long table, and we all sat along it. There were about fifteen girls, me included, at this orphan's home. We work in the day, in turn earning food and a bed. We aren't allowed to leave without permission. That is, unless you don't plan on coming back. Several girls ran away the year before, but we never knew what happened to them.
Eggs and bread were passed around the table, and there was little conversation. I chewed the small breakfast quietly, keeping my eyes lowered. I don't want to catch the attention of anyone, especially Ms. Hill. That's the way I existed; quietly, trying my best not to be noticed. It's harder than you think. When we finish our meal, we each headed to our jobs.
My job that day was to wash the entire kitchen floor. I had to kneel with a scrub brush and a bucket of sudsy water, and scrub the floor until Ms. Hill saw fit. The bitter old lady walked about the home, overseeing our progress. She wore glasses, and had very sharp, harsh features. There was not a bit of motherly warmth in her. Her voice was like ice, and she was quick to reprimand.
As I fetched the bucket of warm water and soap, I reflected. I hated life in the home. No one was friendly, and the older girls bullied the little ones. Everyone looked out for themselves, and never stood up for anyone else. I didn't have any friends, and no living relatives that I knew of. My mother died when I was born, my brother disappeared during the early years of the Depression, and my father was drafted at the very beginning of the war and killed almost as soon. I'd been on my own, there, for three years. My days were always the same. Clean the home, do as well as I could during schooling hour, and stay out of trouble. But I always seemed to have trouble with the last part.
I continued to scrub the tile floor of the kitchen for who-knows-how-long. My back and arms ached from the job, and my hair kept falling out of the tie and into my face. I wiped it out if the way with the back of my hand, and kept scrubbing. I dipped my rag back in the pail and found that it's nearly empty. So I stood to go get more water.
I took a step to go and suddenly my foot slipped on the slick, soapy tiles. My feet go out from under me, and I fell back, knocking a pot from off the counter, landing hard on my bottom with an "Oomph!" The contents of the pot spilled all over the floor I just washed, and the metal container bounces and spins around, making quite a racket. I sat, my legs out in front of me, leaning back on my hands, hair in my face, stunned. Then I heard Ms. Hill. "What on earth!" She cried from the next room. She entered the kitchen and sees me. "What have you done, you idiotic buffoon of a child! You've ruined dinner for everyone and have made a mess of the kitchen!" And then she gave me such a slap that it sent my head reeling. I put my fingers to my stinging cheek, feeling the heat as an ugly red streak appeared across it. A tear squeezed its way out of the corner of my eye, slipping down my cheek. Don't cry, don't cry. Don't you dare cry, you're too old for that! I tried to keep the tears of hurt from coming, but they overwhelmed me. Soon my cheeks were streaked with salty tears. Ms. Hill continued to rage, stamping about the kitchen, yelling at my stupidity, my klutziness. I slowly pulled myself to my feet, shaking from-from…just everything. I wiped my eyes. I felt anger boiling down inside of me. She can't treat me like I'm some kind of dog! I ran from the kitchen, shoving open the front door of the home, and running as fast as my legs could carry me towards the safety of the woods.
It was cold outside, snowing slightly, and I was in no condition to be running around like I was. But I didn't care. Finally, when my legs couldn't carry me any further, and stopped running. I gasped for breath, the cold winter air making my chest ache. Then I slumped to the ground, curling into a ball, and started sobbing my heart out. I cried for my father, the mother I never knew. I cried because of the loneliness I felt at the orphan's home. I cried from the pain of the slap from Ms. Hill. All I wanted was for someone to care just the least bit for me. Genuinely care. But there wasn't anyone in this world to do that. I was probably being selfish, and whining over my bad luck. But I couldn't hold it in any more. "Please God!" I sobbed, rocking back and forth. "Please, just, help me. I hate my life! I just…" I continued sobbing until I couldn't find any more tears to cry. I sniffed, my nose runny from tears. I opened my eyes, now puffy and red, and found that it was dark. I sat up, confused. How can it be dark? I haven't been out here that long have I? I sniffed again, and stood up. My thin dress was wet from lying in the snow, and I was freezing. I shivered as I turned in a slow circle. The trees around me were silent, and I felt as if I were the only person alive on earth. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand again as I began walking back toward the orphan's home. I would probably be sent to bed with no dinner and punished for running off.
I walked for several minutes before slowly coming to a stop. I should be back by now. The woods aren't very thick. And I didn't run terribly far. I gazed around, noticing how old the trees looked. There bark was gnarled and knobby, and they were very close together. I stood completely still as the realization struck me. I'm not in those woods anymore. But…how?
A twig snapped behind me. I whirled around, sucking in a breath. I stood as still as I possibly could, listening for the smallest sound in this impossible silence.
There! There it was again! Another "pop!" from somewhere in the dark forest. I hugged myself and called out in a trembling voice, "Who-who's there?" I waited, and then my eyes widened as the noisemaker stepped forward.
It was about my height, but a male. From the waist up, it was human. Slightly more hairy than a human, but that wasn't the most bizarre thing. Below its waist it was…A goat? It had cloven hooves and curly hair. It had the short little tail of a goat. But how was that possible. My mouth dropped open and I continued to stare at it.