The whispering wind gently swept her fallen, defeated bangs out of her hazel eyes, crimson in pain, the winter grass tickling her pale toes. But the overpowering words that had never been lipped somehow stabbed her heart, hearing phrases she had never been told. Yet, even blinded by his grace, his shaggy, auburn locks, and his spotted fern eyes, somehow the forbidden truth had unmistakably gnawed a wound in her pestering thoughts. The moon’s reflected light bounced off of the calming, skinny stream, the trickling water racing as freely as her tears.

Suddenly, a masculine silhouette cascaded from the stars, rapidly forming, shaping, framing. Frightened, she revealed a fearful gasp as she stood up and slowly, ever so slowly, backed into the sturdy fir tree she’d been leaning against. With delicate steps as to not panic her or increase her dainty heartbeat further, he steadily moved towards her. Like a stunned fawn, she paled, her spine grinding against the jagged tree bark. It pierced her skin, and she flinched from the pain. The river continued to run, ever so freely, ever so swiftly.

His identity was undecided, but the image was beautiful. The gentle padding of his cautious footsteps was haunting. With an aching heart, she suddenly realized who this was. The past was shoved aside, all heartbreak forgotten and wilted. And with cheerful eyes and a brightening smile that overwhelmed the evening shadows, she ran. Her feet churned the grass beneath them, her smile blinded with joy. She dove into his strong arms, melting into his chest, draped over his shoulders. He rocked her. Back and forth they swayed, her face buried in his tattered Abercrombie t-shirt. She sensed his lips, his perfect, quiet lips, gingerly press against her head. Her brunette waves tensed in a static mess from the simple touch, affection coursing hastily through her veins.

His golden smile shook her, and goose bumps rose uncontrollably on her arms. She trembled in reckless shivers from the chilly winds and wingless love.

And with a jolt of shock and confusion, all had vanished.

She fell, down, down to the grass. The figment had left her, rejected her. Had she gone mad? Collapsed on the ground, defeated, without purpose, she released a yowl in rage, hurling herself into the river. The shallow waters enraged her spirits as she released bone-tightening screams, thrashing against the rippling waves, her hair sweeping in thin, dripping strings. Droplets clung forcefully to her long eyelashes; the memories suddenly began to flood her mind. She was drowning in her own thoughts, being consumed by the one who had broken her heart. And somehow, she really had thought that maybe, just maybe, he was better than that. Maybe the mistake was to be cherished.

But maybe it was all her hideous fault.

And as her soaking self, she climbed slowly out of the river, dashing away, following the stream. Running from her fears, her thoughts, her mind, only to be chased until she was finally forced to let him go.