Estella ran through the muggy woods, her black, wild curls flying, her brown doe eyes glancing back like fleeting deer.Her feet knew this forest well, and as she ran, she looked back at the angry shouts and burning torches. Her hazel skin, , flawless but sweating, was hard to spot in these brown surroundings. Her feet, flying swiftly, as she stopped and gazed at her hideaway, nearly invisible in the trees. She grabbeda branch and began to hop from limb to limb, landing gracefully, than suddenly springing up like a spider monkey. There, in the top of the tree, she watched the angry villagers run by. she chuckled softly to herself as she crept in the hole to little "tree house". The tree was big enough to fit her inside lying down.She kept a jar of fireflies at night, just in case she had to find her way to the spring.She had little food, a blanket, and many, many clothes. Every once in a while since she was around 7, she would go down to the market square and sneak an apple here, a dollar there. Than, she would run back to the forest into a little room that she would carve out in the largest tree in the forest. When the villagers started to get suspicious, she would pack up and move to the next small village, doing the same thing, using nothing but a dull blade she stole to carve out her next little hovel.She knew it was time to leave now. She had stayed longer than she meant to, and she would now have to hurry, for this entire village knew of her, and would probably alert the next village over. She changed into her mothers clothes. Oh, how she loved them.
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Short Story / Historical Fiction
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