She awoke, her heart pounding and sweat dripping down her forehead. All she could remember was fragments, and the ghostly lingering touch of another on her face. It was another odd dream, in which she was walking through a fog, the feeling of being watched creeping up her spine, before she was caught off guard by a figure in the shadows. It was not some stranger however, but her fiance, scaring her with a horrible noise and causing her to fall onto the ground, all while looking like a hideous monster about to devour her whole as he lept atop her. His face was twisted as he shouted at her; calling her a pig and a whore, tearing and ripping at her corset keeping her chest bound with the fury of a wild animal, against her screams of protest. The things he began to do next were unspeakable, yet thankfully she had awoken from the dream before it could continue to worsen. Maybe that explained the odd chill as she had sat up in her nightdress, or it was probably just from sleeping in her sheets wrong, she reasoned. All in all, it was a horrible dream and one she'd rather not experience again!

Just what kind of a dream was that? She wondered, trying to catch her breath as she looked around her room. She looked for something to ground herself, so she would not slip back into that horrible nightmare. Nothing looked wrong and yet...Confused, she sensed something was off, and her mind flashed back to the previous night. She had snuck out again, despite her parents wishes. It was only for a while, she reasoned, and for her to get some fresh air. And to vent, a small sigh escaping her lips as she remembered her tirade. Thankfully no one was around to witness it, aside from the scarecrow she had helped put right.

Had they possibly found out? No, but then why did something feel strange? She wasn't sure, looking around her room and finding nothing particularly striking or amiss. She sighed, rubbing her eyes as she sat up and slowly starting her routine for the morning. She had a meeting with her suitor again today and was not particularly fond of what was to transpire. Which was partially why she felt the need to sneak out last night, to get rid of all her pent up emotions before they could get her into any further trouble. Yet she wanted to please her parents, seeing as they were the only people who looked after her, and so she tried her best to look presentable for the man they saw suitable to be her husband...

He was as pompous as ever when he greeted her later that day, kissing her hand and acting all the part of the gentleman before leering at her behind her back. She could feel his eyes boring into her backside, seeing her simply as a piece of meat and nothing more. Part of her wondered if her dream was a warning of this, his uncouth behavior that he tried so easily to hide. This continued throughout the day, the voices in her head were screaming that he didn't deserve her; yelling that she fight off his invasive touch and horrible words. But she could not; not unless she wanted the whole town involved again. For that is what her family would do, short tempered with her as they were lately; raise a fuss and holler at her, calling the priest to exorcise her of whatever 'demons' possessed her. So she endured the torture, the fake compliments, unwanted touches and advances towards her, smiling on the outside while on the inside she screamed, and cried, and wished to be somewhere, anywhere but where she was currently.

It felt like years before the day was over, night slowly blanketing the small village, Rowland harassing her one last time before she left by whispering what he supposed were 'sweet nothings' in her ear. She thought they were anything but, his compliments making her stomach churn as the pair were walking home. Finally he left her, but not before he bade her goodbye with an unwarranted kiss on her cheek, which she did her best to not smack him across the face for. She slipped into the house as best she could, lying to her parents about her outing to please them—saying it was fine and Rowland was 'wonderful' as always—wearing as neutral expression as she could manage. She slumped onto her bed, mentally and physically exhausted from the day she just had, pressing a hand to her aching forehead and resisting the urge to cry out in rage.

Now she understood, her fingers brushing up along something that wasn't the hard leather of her books. It was a familiar touch, and scent too—that of lead on paper. She would know the indents and markings anywhere; it was one of her sketches! But how? She didn't understand, hadn't her father and fiancé destroyed all of them!? And her drawing materials were locked up as well, it's not as if she could simply procure new ones without them knowing. But then how had this gotten here? She picked it up curiously, examining the drawing with rapt attention. It was one of her less liked pieces—she thought it nothing special at least—the simple backdrop of a forest done in pencil.

She felt something on the back of the paper, as she looked over the piece, confusing her for a moment. Had she drawn on the back of the paper too? Possibly, it had been a while since she had looked at this. Wait...this was one of the ones that had been lost in the forest—when her awful fiance had scattered them in his rage. IStill, she curiously turned the paper around, a small gasp escaping her as she saw words adorn the page, a flowing cursive that was unfamiliar to her poor eyes. It certainly wasn't her parents or suitor, having become used to their scrawl by now when they had written her letters or lists of chores to do. Feeling her heart leap out of her chest, she scanned the document carefully, having to squint and put the document to her nose to read the scrawled tiny letters, taking in every word.

Dear Ms.Keatings,

I do hope this message sees you well. As it stands, I was hesitant to write this letter, but could contain my growing concern for you no longer. You cannot know me, as desperate as I am to meet you, but our paths cannot cross—I care for you too much to see you harmed further because of my selfish whims. I simply wished to express my concern for you, seeing as you are going through the most difficult time right now.

Please do not be alarmed, as I had found this sketch and wanted to return it to its rightful owner. It is such a beautiful and under appreciated work, after all—much like its creator. As loathe as I am to admit it, I came upon your squabble with your supposed 'suitor' while I was out for a walk one night. It sickens me, the way he treated a young woman such as yourself, and yet I can do nothing to help you! Any help I may try to offer, I fear will only make your situation worse! I do not wish such things upon you, yet my heart yearns to be at your side, to protect you from this hardship you are currently facing. Please do try to hope that things will improve, and know that I will watch over you for as long as I am able.

Your Spirit Guardian

She stared at the last line, her heart close to bursting out of her chest from the kind words and yet uncertainty she felt. But who sent it? Who had been so kind as to go back into those haunted woods and retrieve something as unimportant as a sketch simply for her? And this talk of a guardian...That piqued her curiosity; was she right in assuming she had a friend somewhere? Someone who wanted the best for her, who actually cared for her?

Going by the tone of the letter, which made her palms shake and heart race furiously, it certainly seemed so. She was not used to such kind words, cryptic as they were, and they made her feel something she had not felt in quite a long time. It blossomed in her chest, a painful warmth that soon caused a dull ache, and she felt the onset of tears start to form at the edges of her eyes. Who was this kind person, who seemed to care so much for her? They had retrieved her sketch after all, and she was quite grateful for it. But the mention of the word spirit had her slightly on edge, her memory flashing back to what she had seen in the woods. It had scared her at the time, with it's sudden appearance in the dark and the way it jumped out at them, the loud noise it had made still echoing in her mind.

Yet if it was the same spirit which had probably carried her back home, and sent this letter, then maybe it could be trusted. Or it was a ruse, luring her with kind words and false intent so she could be spirited away. Part of her didn't really care, even welcoming oblivion when compared to the life she was to have with her suitor, a man who cared so little for her she might as well be dirt at the side of the road.

She had to be possessed or haunted, she told herself. That was it. It was the only way she could explain the strange happenings around her. Maybe she was insane; maybe she did harbor an overactive imagination. But she didn't care. Anything had to be better than what she was going through at the moment. And why not then go looking for the thing that had so attached itself to her? Maybe she could talk to it? Whatever it was certainly seemed to be willing to talk with her, if the letter it wrote was any indication and she wanted to speak with it too.

Besides, it's not like the townsfolk or her parents would think any stranger of her for doing so! Not that she would be foolish enough for them to know what she was planning. The last thing she needed was to be caught, seen as crazy and then committed to the asylum! Which she had no doubt they would if they found this letter, or at the very least rip it up. So she carefully tucked it in a compartment of her desk, hiding it very carefully among other non noteworthy items. She left it face up, so that anyone who found it would think it was simply another one of her drawings; most people would not think to turn it over, would they, she reasoned.

What struck her as most curious was the author's mentions of the two of them never being able to meet. She assumed it was because of their dubious nature as a spirit, which made her interested. Most otherworldly things did not see humans as much of note, yet this one had specifically called out for her. Though apparently they wished to desperately; the young woman also feeling an odd compulsion to find whomever had written this heartfelt letter. It was an odd confession of sorts, she did admit and yet she treasured it dearly, more so with everything going on right now.

So she decided; she would sneak into the woods again, in the dead of night and hope she may stumble upon the author of said letter. At the very least, she could write her own reply to their words and leave for them to find. It's not as if a human would go that far out into the woods, so the chances of anyone else finding it were slim at best. Maybe she might even receive a reply, some insane part of her hoped; another heartfelt letter like this one. Or if she wasn't so lucky, a wolf or some other predator might come along and make her out to be a tasty meal. Certainly better than being a slave to Rowland's whims and the authority of her parents, she figured. Whichever it was, she was set in her idea; already taking pen to paper and putting her own thoughts to mind.

It wasn't long before she finished her work, putting the pen back into the ink receptacle and blowing on the paper to make it dry faster. She examined the letter quickly, sure it said exactly what was on her mind and stuffed it into her corset, wincing slightly as the paper wedged in between her breasts. It wasn't exactly comfortable but she had no real pockets to speak of, and if she dropped it that would be no good; at least here it was safe and secure, away from prying eyes that might question her. Looking outside her window, she watched the waxing moon rise in the night sky, it's soft light illuminating the ground below.

She carefully walked to the end of her room, more determined than ever, and attempted to open her door. Panic and surprise flashed through her as she felt the doorknob stick into place; they had locked her door from the outside? She swore, going back to the window with a twinge of fear in her heart. It was the only real choice she had; waiting until the daytime was out of the question as she would be watched by her parents or suitor, and not allowed to leave the house.

She looked down at the hard ground, fear making her stop for a moment. Just what are you thinking? All for some idiotic idea that someone actually fancies you? It might be a trap, and what if it is a ghost? Doubts shuffled through her mind, her eyes squeezed shut as she considered what her rational mind was telling her. She remembered the tender words of the letter then, wishing her goodwill and hoping to meet her with the utmost respect. So unlike anything she had been witness to before. She leapt, her skirts billowing in the wind as the air filled her ears, landing harshly in the ground with a thud. Pain erupted through her legs then, a sharp, sudden pain that nearly made her cry out as tears flooded her vision.

The house was quiet thankfully, her parents already asleep, and her fiancé had not deigned to watch over her this night, possibly still chuffed over her somewhat indifferent treatment of him this afternoon at their meeting. Checking to make sure nothing was sprained or broken, though she was no doctor, she continued onward, determination steadying her onwards. She had trouble seeing the path in front of her in the darkness, stumbling a few times on the uneven ground and catching herself with her hands lest she fall, but she trudged onward, despite the cold wind whipping at her skirts and chilling her skin.