Aria

“Damn broad…” he mumbles while holding his stinging cheek. Even if I had stolen her stupid jewelry, it wasn’t worth enough to hit me for it…. I shouldn’t have run out before grabbing something to put on my cheek… *shrug* Oh well, sweet justice will make all the pain go away in no time. Adam Walker’s shoe scuffs along the dirt & grass and dislodges a pebble from the soil. It bounces off a nearby root and returns to block his way once more. This is the manner in which he heads off to his secret meadow in the nearby woods; a short stop while on his way to find the true culprit. He’s got all night, so no reason not to take his time and make a pit stop to sulk for a bit.

There is only a tiny wildlife trail that leads partway to his secret glade. A winding, barely-there path that goes through a seemingly endless amount of forest on the outskirts of town. He has to traverse a surprisingly deep creek (trekking 50 paces north along the bank to reach the shallow point with stepping stones to cross), find and crawl through the old, hollowed out log underneath the wall of briars, and then follow the sound of running water to reach the glade. In the northwestern corner, there lies a small stream and pond where the sound of running water comes from. The rest is interspersed with tall grasses and wildflowers, surrounding a small hill in the center. On top of the hill sits the centerpiece; an ancient tree, with roots twisting in and out of the ground, big enough that he often lounges on them in the shade when visits. He avoids the area right at the base of the tree, however, as it is encased in the remains of a dead rosebush; nothing more than a tangle of dried thorns anymore. As he approaches, he gives the pebble (which he kept in his pocket during the times he couldn’t kick it during his walk) one last farewell sendoff.

He places it gently on a bare patch of ground, wipes away some of the dirt and dust, backs up a bit, pretends to measure the distance and angle with his hands, and, with a wicked grin, winds up and kicks the little pebble as hard as he can. It disappears so fast that he lost track of it; he can only hear it ping off the side of the tree, feel the brush of air where it zips past his face, and sees the of rustle the grass to his right where it lands. His eyes widen at the near miss, “Not sure if that was lucky, or unlucky…” he mumbles.

Shaking off the rocky scare, he sets his sights upon his favorite root to lounge on. Shaped perfectly in a shallow U, it is the best spot to rest after his ordeal earlier today. First the old lady and now a rock… seems like everything’s out to get me today. While laying down on this gnarled, knobby piece of tree might not sound very comfortable, and physically it’s really not, it does provide a sense of contentment and peace that he rarely feels in his chaotic life. Even the burning of his cheek fades as he watches the setting sun from his lounge.

He’s unsure of the time he’s spent just sitting and relaxing as he watched the sky, but it’s well and dark by the time he comes to his senses once more. “Okay, so, time to plan.” He sits up from his lounging position and rests his chin on his knuckles. The old lady had her jewelry stolen, and, as the favorite troublemaker, the blame was placed on me. And, unless I find and bring back not only the jewelry but the true culprit as well, I’ll be sleeping outside for the remainder of my short stay here. “Yeah, that about sums it up.” He mutters with an exasperated eyeroll, and a flippant hand flick. While that old broad isn’t the nicest host, her home is definitely the safest I’ve lived in, and this is my last chance. He wrings his clenched hands together. I’ll be sent to that shitty “orphanage” if I mess this up… He allows that thought to permeate his mind for a moment too long before he stops thinking about that horrible possibility and moves on. First, I need to figure out who the criminal is. A grown up would have stuck out like a sore thumb in that house, and the robbery took place during the middle of the day, so “…it must have been a kid…” he mumbles as he scratches the first signs of stubble on his chin. It’s just a few hairs here and there, but damn do they itch. “Hmm…” It wasn’t any of the kids who live here, because all of our belongings were searched, so it must be one of the kids from that orphanage. They are known around town to be thieves. Afterall, it’s where the “bad children” get abandoned when the system no longer wants to take care of them anymore. A slight shiver rolls through his spine, and makes his hair stand on end. He doesn’t think about whether it was from the night chill or something else. There was only one flaw with his reasoning. While he knew that the culprit was a kid from the orphanage, he didn’t know which one it was.

A jolt of lightning bellows through the sky, as a thought strikes him. That fraidy cat Timmy was going on and on about a ghost he saw today that he swore was following him through the house… it left after he hid in the Head Lady’s closet for close to an hour. What if… he really did see something, or more like, someone. The ghost kid of the forgotten orphanage. He’s like an urban legend around here, because no one catches a good look at him, but if he does exist it must be him who stole the jewelry. “YES!” He jumps up and fists the air in triumph. Lighting flashes again, so bright that he’s momentarily blinded. “Gah!” He quickly covers his face with his hands. After a moment of respite for his eyes he squints up at the sky. “A storm’s coming... well, there’s no time like the present to begin my reverse heist!” He lets loose a genuine grin of excitement for the first time in as long as he can remember. This is gonna be fun.