Page 1 of Where We Began

- Chapter 1 -

Laiken

There's a baby deerstanding in the field.

It isn't the first time I've seen one—but I could count the number of times I've seen onealoneon one hand. “Shh,” my sister cautions me, as if I'd dare to breathe. Kara's lying beside me in the grass, her finger to her chapped, rosy lips. We're shoulder to shoulder. I can see the flecks of green in her blue eyes.

I don't nod, but she knows I've heard her. Both of us stare back out at the clearing. The sky above is gray as dishwater with a single vein of sun running through. It'll rain within the hour, if not sooner. It's warm on the ground but that's changing the longer I hold steady.

The baby deer isn't moving, except for its legs. Those have been trembling since we stumbled on the animal. I expect it's cold, or terrified.Where is its mom?I wonder.

I don't hear her speak, but suddenly, I can tell Kara is debating something. It's easy for me to read her. For all of my twelve years, she's been my companion and my best friend. So of course I recognize the mischief that crinkles the corners of her eyes, the slight uptick at the edge of her mouth. I pull in half a breath, ready to ask her what she's going to do.

Kara jumps forward, tearing through the brush, her arms over her head. “Hey!” she yells, rushing the animal. “Hey, whoo! Hi little deer! Hey!” Her shouts become laughter. The deer has already bolted, too stressed to wait and see if Kara means it any harm.

I should be mad. I'm not. Kara's pink cheeks and giggles are contagious. Without hesitation I kick off the ground, dirt getting under my nails in my hurry to join my sister. Together we squeal, chasing after the deer. We know we can't catch the gangly-legged animal but we do our best anyway. Neither of us are quitters.

Playing in the forest around our cabin has made us both strong. Agile. While we won't catch the deer, we're on its heels. The brush is thick here, clawing at my tanned cheeks, my bare, wiry arms. When I circle around a gigantic oak trunk, the bark catches at my hair. I flinch from the brief spark of pain and keep running.

I'm used to it.

My brunette hair isn't sleek or tidy. It hides twigs. It snags on branches and briars. And when I run, the frayed ends swirl in the air behind me like a tattered cape.

My hair iswildlike me - like us.

I love it -

especially because it looks just like hers.

Neither Kara nor I have ever liked getting our hair cut, but that took a new twist when, weeks ago, we'd started practicing braids. I'd been able to get over seven rows in my hair. Kara had only gotten six. In her distress, she'd insisted I trim my hair until we had the exact same length.

“We'll grow it out together,” she'd explained, showing me the scissors. “Then, next summer, we'll see whose is longer.”

I'd agreed. How could I say no?

“Wait up!” I pant, pushing through the sharp, raking branches. Kara has gotten ahead of me; she's reached the river. The deep thrum of the rushing water slides through my ears seconds before I see it.

She's standing on one of the slippery rocks near the closest bank. The deer is scrambling through the water, its head barely above the ripples. It climbs on the stones then slips in again. Suddenly, our fun game seems cruel.

My sister either hasn't sensed the same thing I have, or she's consumed by the chase, because she keeps hopping over the rocks. Each jump she makes, I expect her to fall. “Kara! Be careful!” I cry, sliding down the wet dirt to the riverbed. The river isn't much wider than twelve feet, but its bloated, the current dangerous from the recent rains.

I climb the closest rock; instantly I stumble, my whole right leg soaking through. Gasping, I retreat to the muddy, but solid, shore. Kara glances back, drawn by my panic. “Come on!” she yells, hands cupping around her mouth. “You can do it!”

Except I can't, and we both know it.

Kara doesn't wait for me, she returns to the hunt. The baby deer, for all its struggles, is standing on a stone, shivering, as my sister gets closer. Is it worse for it to fall back in, or for Kara to catch it? Couldn't they both get hurt in the rushing water?

Something bellows. It's a low, insistent sound that demands I lift my eyes and find the source. Standing on the other shore is a large doe.The baby's mom,I realize.

Its mother's arrival gives it strength, and the little deer leaps forward, making it to the far side without anymore problems. It bounces by the doe's hooves; they nuzzle. I'm frozen as I watch the scene. It makes me think about my own mom... and my newborn baby brother.

The full-grown deer looks straight at me. Her brown eyes glisten, unblinking, and I feel strangely judged.

Then they vanish into the surrounding forest.

“Damn,” Kara says, breaking the spell. Blinking, I see that she's made it to the other side. Her hands grab her slim hips, feet spread as she surveys her prey's escape. From behind she looks like a warrior. Her hair blows in the wind, and when she turns to eyeball me, she brushes it from her face. “Are you not going to cross?”

“It's too cold,” I say, shaking my wet foot. “I don't want to fall in. Dad would kill me if pneumonia didn't first.”

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