Continued [ ⋆ @a-adventurer ⋆ ]
It was an ordinary day for Scarlett. Scarlett had woken up at 7 seven in the morning for school, thank goodness it was her last year. Though she had no idea what she was going to do after she had finished school.
Scarlett lived a few blocks away from her school so she walked back home, listening to music on her phone. Her house was unusually quiet, since her brothers were doing various things and her parents were on a business trip. Scarlett arrived home, shrugging off her school blazer and taking off her tie. She walked upstairs to get changed into more comfortable clothes.
Scarlett frowned when she saw Lyra dart over her garden fence but something seemed off so she decided to see what was the matter. Hearing her explanation made Scarlett’s heartbeat quicken and a sense of fear came over her, but she had to help the poor girl. She didn’t know who was after her but that didn’t matter. Scarlett quickly looked around then looked at Lyra.
“Come on. Inside, quickly! I know where you can hide just in case they come to the door.” Scarlett whispered back, her Scottish accent coming more prominent. “I’ll make you somethin’ to eat as well.” Scarlett carefully watched the road, just in case a car came along and stopped.
Surveying the road and remaining hidden was becoming an impossible task. Yes, she was crouched in the stranger’s own garden, but she had promised that before long, she would move on. Why could the girl not leave her alone? Alone was how she liked to be. At least, until reuniting with Will. Trust was a mistake she refused to bestow lightly, especially now. Once again, she had mistakenly trusted the wrong person and been terribly betrayed, this time by Sir Charles Latrom...Lord Boreal, whatever his real name was. To make matters worse, her own intolerable mother was working alongside him.
“How do I know I can trust you?” Time was running out, Lyra knew as much. In a part of Will’s world which seemed to consist of row upon row of houses, she would eventually find herself caught. By Lord Boreal, her mother or a homeowner less friendly than the girl offering her safety and food. Pan stirred in her pocket, mouse formed, as uncertain and anxious as she. “You could be anyone. I could be anyone. You don’t know me.”