Clutching a letter in hand, Louisa ambled down the path from Bracknell Grange, not pausing a moment to admire the roses in full bloom or the glittering dew that had descended on the green pasture overnight-- in fact, she walked more stiffly than usual, and at a quicker pace, for her fear (through she tried to hide it) of horses and cows left her constantly vigilant for any of the offending animals. But through the pasture was the quickest way to town, and the letter was of utmost importance, so Louisa screwed her courage to the sticking place and went, head held high.
She felt like skipping a little, so she did, the soft sounds of her shoes on the dirt the only sounds beside the slight rustle of grasses and idle birds. It seemed an uncommon bit of luck-- none of her family had kept her at home, the letter had been written with all the care of a good forger, and the skies were clear and the day crisp. Louisa allowed a smile to take hold of her features, thinking that perhaps she was wrong, she wasn’t the unluckiest little girl in the whole world.
That train of thought lasted her until she saw something blocking her path, staring at her with doleful eyes. Louisa froze, wide-eyed. The cow stared at her. She stared back. Slowly, it raised its shaggy head and moved towards her, sniffing the air apprehensively. She let out a soft scream, one hand raised to her mouth, eyes searching wildly for-- she didn’t know what. It seemed she was paralyzed, stuck to the spot trembling, and she could only give a soft groan and curse herself for her hubris.