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Ethan Lightfern slipped silently from shadow to shadow, careful only to bolt forward when he was sure no one was watching. Drunken adults swooned all around him, and in his mind, he was in one of his video games, dodging dinosaurs and avoiding asteroids. It was all good fun.
His parents were throwing a party. This was not a simple dinner affair for a couple of close friends though, this was a party to rival Gatsby gatherings. The Lightferns were filthy rich. Ethan had no idea how he differed from other children though, because he really hadn't been in close contact with children his whole life. Homeschooling didn't offer many socializing opportunities and as an only child, he was pretty secluded from the world of little people like himself.
As he ducked quickly under a table laden with caviar canapés, ginger prawns with lime, and baked oysters served with herbed butter, he caught sight of his mother. He had inherited her thin frame, but the whispy way that she moved from guest to guest, lit up and glittering, he had never managed to duplicate. His father, not far from her elbow, was quite the opposite. A pudgy, stout fellow, he barely reached her elbow and he tottered around behind her, clearly drunk, and clearly lacking the entertaining ability of his beautiful wife.
Now that Ethan had tracked down his parents, he plopped down on the ground under the table, peeking out from under the cloth and watching the chaos progress around him. He loved sneaking out when his parents were having visitors. The tone of these evenings always shifted from light and cheerful to frenzied and messy. It was like watching a movie, and just as predictable as most of the movies he was allowed to see.
It was the perfect setting, really. Outside, beside a house of such grandeur, Ethan was never sure he had seen every room. His mother hired no one but the best to erect the gorgeous tents that adorned their back yard at least once a month. Streamers and confetti dotted the grass, tiny white lights strung from tent post to tent post cast tiny little reflections in the over abundance of crystal everywhere. The loveliest melodies graced the night air.
And both house and lawn were surrounded by the densest of forests, keeping the guests and merriment (and Ethan alike) completely sheltered from the outside world. It gave the famous Lightfern summer parties a mystical, almost eerie quality. The visitors of whom Ethan's mother never seemed in short supply seemed to thrive on the elite mood of sophistication it lent them.
The majority of these guests were completely oblivious to the gray owl that swooped down from the treetops of the forest that secluded them. Only Mr. Lightfern himself, as a matter of fact, in all his drunken glory, saw it slide from the branches and plunge between his guests to perch underneath a table topped with hors d'oeuvres. He also saw the letter clutched in its beak. For a second, the whole party seemed to stand still, and then he smiled as the full reality of what was happening dawned on him.
He scuttled away from his wife's elbow as subtly as he could, but the mere fact that he was moving away from her at all managed to draw confused looks from people. When he reached the table, he picked at the snacks long enough for the staring to cease.
When at last he thought it was safe, he ducked abruptly down and slid as gracefully beneath the tablecloth as his oversized form and inebriated state of mind would allow, which was to say, not very gracefully at all.
Ethan jumped quickly away, his attention ripped from the letter clutched in his hands, as he narrowly avoiding being squashed by his own father. Mr. Lightfern readjusted his bulk once he was sure he was tucked under the table (thank goodness for the expense of the larger tables).
Mr. Lightfern chuckled at the mystified look on his son's face, not at all aware that his son was regarding his own mystified look with amusement. Ethan was aware of the effects of alcohol on adults.
"Whatcha got there, son?" asked Mr. Lightfern. Ethan regarded his letter again, addressed "Ethan Lightfern, Under Table, Back Yard, Kent, England."
"Dunno." replied Ethan.
Mr. Lightfern extracted the letter, and perused it knowingly. "I'll tell you what. I'll explain what this letter is to you, but you have to do me a favor." Ethan waited expectantly. Mr. Lightfern chuckled. He leaned closer, obviously sharing a confidence of the highest order.
"You've gotta keep it a secret from your Mum."