Chapter Eight

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I walked towards the water until I was close enough to touch it. I felt stronger, safer. It was strange, how the very thing that nearly killed me could make me feel so comfortable. I couldn't resist it any more, I pulled up my dress so that it was just above my knees, took of my shoes and stepped into the water.

It was shallow near the edge, just deep enough to reach my calve. The gentle waves beat against my skin, it was so cold, so sweet. I raised my hand, thinking of what I wanted the water to do, and concentrated as hard as I could. A small fountain of water appeared under my hand. It followed my movement, up, down, sideways. I thrust my hand forwards, and the water shot across the lake.

A smile spread across my face, this could be fun. The sky was starting to turn dark, it must be getting late. In a clearing, Emma stood, hands on her hips.
"We've all been looking for you."
"Oh, sorry,"
"Supper will be soon, the bird will kill you if you're late again, She's kinda strict."
"Fine, I'll come now."

I stepped out of the water, my legs were soaked.
"Have you honestly got your new dress wet already?"
"Urm, I guess...."
"I could dry you with my hands, but quite frankly that would be awkward."
"I know, it's fine."

We walked back to the house in near silence. I didn't know how to feel about this new way of life, I'd always been an only child, and I didn't think I'd like to live with many others. Also, the house was huge in comparison to my little cottage. I'd get used to it though, I'd have to. I was now an outcast, not welcome anywhere else.

By the time we got back in, everyone was busy setting the table. Fiona was placing flowers in the middle of the table, and Emma quickly started lighting candles with her finger. I went to see if I could help with everything. I carried some plates to the table, and arranged the cutlery.

The meal was absolutely huge, which seemed to be normal in this house. The meal passed, less shocking in its strangeness than yesterday. I felt sorry for Hugh, forced to eat alone under a net to keep his bees from disturbing everyone else. Fiona kept passing sympathetic looks in his direction, and he looked back lovingly.

After the meal, I watched the changeover again, everything was the same excepting one detail, perfectly in time with the falling bombs, the children were singing a strange song, about rabbits:

"Run rabbit run rabbit run run RUN
Bang bang BANG goes the farmers gun
He'll get by without his rabbit pie
So run rabbit run run RUN."

I hoped that I'd get used to living here eventually, I'd never fitted in anywhere before.

I'll update as soon as I can, not making any promiles.
Thank you for the reads and votes,
Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Poppy xo

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