Riding Red
"Don't go into the woods," whisper the flutter of wings in the dovecote rafters. The words fall dry and cool to the floor, mingling with feathers and stale straw.
The doves are mimicking Rosie's aunts. On this side of the mountains, Rosie has heard, they're mimicking-birds, and they always mock the voice they hear the most. On Jonagold Farm, that is certainly the voices of her three aunts.
"Dangerous. Dark trees, no straight paths."
"Terrible wild animals."
"Poor Amos," whispers Aunt Miranda through tightly pursed lips. "Leaving his child fatherless."
"My father died in the woods," Rosie tells the boy. It's dark in the dovecote. All she can see is his nose, outlined in moonlight, and his eyes gleaming silver. Everything else is shadow.
"It's not dangerous," he says.
Rosie holds her breath when his hand touches hers, his palm as rough as a stone.
"I'll show you the way."
Ooooh, this story is creepy (and, of course, intriguing). I love the mimicking birds and the mysterious boy who may or may not be the best companion for Rosie :)
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