A Walk in the Woods.

Chapter One – MIA.

In the lakeside resort town of Silent Hill, the wind plays a childish soccer with detritus on the streets, and as the midnight town slumbers, a Happy Burger wrapper is pinned to a lamppost, mercilessly molested by the wind, then torn away again and flung up and out to the moonlit skies. A poster remains, stuck to the post. 'HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL?' it shrieks.

A picture of a young blonde above the caption; 'Blonde, 16, female. Missing for 2 weeks. $1,000 reward for information.' There are posters all over the place now that we stop to look, on every streetlamp, storefront and bus stop. Despite the poster's claim, Kate has been missing for over a month now, and her mother is ill with concern, crying out even in her sleep 'Where has my little girl gone?'

Woods, lots of woods. It was sunny and pleasant when she started out on her walk through the woods, and the greenery brushing against her calves and occasionally tickling her thighs were refreshing with the dew of the morning, and she had been glad of her choice of outfit. A pair of tough, comfortable suede boots, a snug and short denim skirt (though not too snug to allow her to clamber over rocks and branches) and a bodywarmer over a t-shirt had seemed just the right attire for that warm and fresh morning. The sunshine playing on her golden hair had made her feel good and golden in herself, and the trees seemed like elder brothers, watching her play and joining in with reverent and joyful smiles of their own. The whole forest had been her playground, the trees her playmates, and the wildlife her jesters and pets. But then the sun had faded, the air had grown cold and the breeze had wandered up and down her with chilly and disrespectful fingers.

The greenery brushing against her bare legs now seemed to cling with obscene intent, the trees leered at her discomfort, and took pleasure in her fear and newfound knowledge of her smallness, her fear of the frailty her slight figure left her with. As for the wildlife…best not to think about that. She had seen a few wolves earlier, but only from afar, and now prayed that she would never see them again, and certainly not out here, exposed and alone. Turning, she made her way back to the edge of the wood. That intention, though, proved to be more difficult in practice than in theory.

'Figures,' she muttered, 'in theory, there's no damn difference between theory and practice. In practice – OOMPH!' Swearing under her breath, she scrabbled on the forest floor to pick herself up and found that her ankle had become somehow entangled in a tree root.

'You can not be serious,' she grunted angrily, twisting round to see the problem better. 'Now how the hell…' As she brought her hands round to try to free her entrapped ankle from the hoary grip of the root, her left hand knocked against something hard, her right against something hard and cold. Her train of thought interrupted, she looked down and discovered a small plastic compass, and a sheathed Buck knife. Both had obviously been bought by someone going for strength and durability, which brought up the next questions, where was the owner, and why would he or she have left such important items in the middle of this huge forest? Stuffing the compass into her bodywarmer pocket, she clipped the knife sheath to her skirt waistband, and leant forward to work her ankle free. That was when the howling began, welling up from behind the forest growth into an animal choir, singing a terrible requiem.

Frantically, Kate tugged and twisted at her ankle. It sounded as though the howling were all around her, though what with the fog that had grown up within the forest since the weather changed it was impossible to tell anything for sure.

'Come ON, you son of a BITCH!' she yelled at the top of her voice, and then clapped her hand over her mouth, realising with a sudden hot flush of fear that she had just alerted anything hungry and unfriendly within hearing distance that here was an early lunch just waiting to happen. In a panic now, she slipped the knife from its sheath and began hacking desperately at the root, which suddenly…was not around her ankle any more. In her frenzy of stabbing, she only just managed to stop herself from an impromptu surgery, though a sharp pain told her that she had at least pierced the skin under her boot. Still, she thought as she climbed to her feet and let her pale legs take the weight of her body, it could be worse, and at least I can walk. Just then the howling began again, and this time it was definitely closer. Or perhaps a quick jog would be a better idea, she corrected herself. She took a last look at the tree that'd tripped her, a malevolent old willow, shook a pale fist at it, and took off in the opposite direction to the howls.