So, writing in the "Once Upon a Time" world is a new thing for me. I've loved the show since the first season, but I hadn't tried anything until now. Feedback would be helpful! The general idea for this story came courtesy of Lovatic-once-upon-a-time.
Bare feet crept through the darkness toward the front door. The owner of said feet moved with care, shoes in one hand and a backpack slung over the corresponding shoulder. She held her breath as she reached the door, glancing around to assess her surroundings. Relieved that she was still alone, her free hand reached out to slowly turn the knob. Never in her life had she taken so long just to open a door, but she couldn't risk being heard. If someone caught her, things would turn nasty in a flash.
She pulled the door ajar, just enough to silently squeeze through, and then, with just as much care, closed the door behind her. The hard concrete felt rough and cold beneath her feet, but she didn't dare put her shoes on just yet. She needed to put some distance between the house and herself before she stopped for any reason.
Pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, Hannah Stevens took off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace. As she did so, she shifted her backpack in front of her so she could deposit her shoes. A passerby might not notice her bare feet, but she'd attract more attention carrying her shoes in her hand. Every so often, she would glance over her shoulder, checking to make sure she wasn't being followed or attracting unwanted attention. Mr. Flint would be furious when he realized she was gone, which Hannah hoped wouldn't be until the following morning. It wouldn't bode well for her if he caught up with her.
Running away had been a last minute decision, and although she didn't regret doing it one bit, Hannah hadn't had time to formulate much of a plan. She had an idea of her destination, but how to get there – that was the issue. It would be tough, an eleven-year-old trying to travel a couple hundred miles under the radar. At the moment, Hannah figured that once she put enough distance between herself and the Flints' house, she could worry about the other specifics.
Hannah wasn't sure how far she'd walked, but a glance at the small, worn watch on her wrist indicated that nearly an hour had passed. Her feet ached, both from the cool spring air and the rough pavement. Satisfied that she could spare a moment of rest, she ducked into a wooded area along the road and sat down. Setting her backpack on the ground beside her, she pulled out a worn pair of sneakers and socks. Indulging in the opportunity to rest, she examined the bottoms of her feet, realizing with dismay that the skin was scratched and even broken in a few spots. Band-aids would have been nice right then. Unfortunately, she hadn't thought to bring anything first aid related. Her backpack, now lighter without the shoes, contained all of the money she'd saved, which wasn't much, a couple of snacks, an envelope, and her one comfort – a worn, stuffed bear she'd had since she was a baby.
She winced as she tugged the socks onto her feet, and gingerly slipped on her sneakers. Lacing them tightly enough to help ensure she didn't trip but not so tight that her soles hurt more, Hannah pushed herself to her feet and once more slung the backpack over her shoulder. Her feet still hurt, but at least they were warmer, and Hannah could move at an even quicker pace if necessary.
Returning to the road, Hannah saw lights up ahead – not traffic lights, but the lights from a business. She couldn't tell how much farther it was, but perhaps it would give her a chance to regroup and plan how to get from Massachusetts to Maine.
As it turned out, the lights Hannah saw illuminated a small gas station, as the girl discovered when she reached the destination twenty minutes later. The lot was deserted, save a single pickup truck parked beside a gas pump. From the edge of the property, hidden behind a tree, Hannah could spot a woman emerging from the driver's side, a cell phone pressed to her ear. It wasn't that far of a distance, so Hannah could just make out some of the woman's conversation.
"I know it's late… Yeah, you know me, I'm a night owl. I'm stopping now for gas and a snack, but I think I'm going to drive straight through to Rockland."
Hannah had been studying New England geography every chance she got. She knew there was a Rockland in Massachusetts, but it wasn't terribly far from her home. It didn't make sense that this woman would talk about driving to Rockland without stopping like it was a big deal. The only other Rockland Hannah knew of in New England was in Maine. She was sure there were other Rocklands outside of New England, but Hannah had to remain optimistic that the woman was heading north.
After a minute, the woman tucked away her cell phone and moved to put gas in her vehicle. Hannah waited, hoping the woman would need to go into the convenience store. As luck had it, several minutes later, the woman headed for the brightly lit building. Recognizing this might be her only chance Hannah crept over to the truck. Careful not to be seen, Hannah peered into the flatbed of the pickup. She saw a tarp covering what appeared to be a few boxes by the shape of the mound. Hopefully, the woman wouldn't have a need to look in the back before reaching her destination.
Glancing around, half expecting to be caught at any moment, Hannah climbed into the bed of the truck. Lifting the tarp, she shifted the boxes slightly and curled up on her side, making sure her entire body was covered by the tarp. With any luck, no one would see her until she at least made it into Maine.
The waiting was nerve-wracking. She imagined the worst – being discovered, the woman calling the police, the police escorting her back to the Flints – and Hannah really didn't want to think about what would happen then. Subconsciously she rubbed her shoulder, wincing at the lingering soreness from the days old bruise.
It wasn't until she heard the engine roar to life and the truck begin to move that she finally let out a sigh of relief. She was safe, and she should be at least until the next stop. She told herself she needed to stay alert, so she'd be ready when the woman reached her destination. However, the gentle sway of the truck as it traveled along the highway left Hannah feeling drowsy, and she soon drifted off to sleep.
Several hours later, Hannah awoke with a start. Mentally scolding herself for dozing off, she tried to assess the situation. From beneath the tarp, she could tell it was still dark outside. The truck was no longer moving, but she couldn't hear any signs of traffic. Cautiously she lifted the tarp and peeked over the sides of the truck bed. She was in a driveway. From her spot she could see the road, despite the lack of street or house lights to illuminate her surroundings. Twisting to look behind her, she saw a modest house surrounded by trees.
So, she was in Rockland. It looked like a relatively rural area, but she still needed to get moving. Just because she was in Maine didn't mean she was out of the clear. She made sure she had her backpack before climbing over the side of the truck. Feet on pavement once more, she looked around. The road would be easy enough to take, but a little voice inside her head was telling her to take to the woods instead. Without sunlight to light her way, the even darker woods seemed ominous; however, the pull was too great.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Hannah walked straight toward the sea of trees. She didn't know exactly which direction to take, so she kept going straight. Twigs and leaves crunched beneath her feet, and she listened with vigilance for any sign of danger – whether from humans or animals. She had no idea what animals possibly lived in these woods, and she hoped she wouldn't run into anything potentially dangerous, like a bear or a big cat or a coyote. The woods were surprisingly quiet. Hannah didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
She could just catch the faint glimmer of light on the horizon when she finally reached the other side of the woods. A road stretched in either direction, and as she glanced to her right, she noticed what looked like a small town up ahead. Turning to view the opposite direction, she spied a sign in the distance. The sun had yet to rise, but the few rays of light available reflected off the large, green rectangle, so Hannah could still make out the words. Leaving Storybrooke. She could hardly believe it.
She'd done it.
She'd made it to Storybrooke.