Green. Spring at its peak. The brightest green of the season. Crisp leaves that crunch when you snap them from their ripe branch. Melody sighs, the fresh air cleansing her mouth and throat like a breath mint.
Yellow. The sunshine that gleams through the thick overhead foliage. The light makes the leaves gleam, as if they’re readying for a glamour shoot. Dewy grass is blindingly bright with the first rays of the day. It makes a soft rustling noise as she walks over to the closest of two long parallel lines of trees. She runs her hands over the rough bark, letting her fingers catch softly and drag.
Melodic twittering above her marries with the scraping. Lifting her eyes then her head, she scans the thickly leaved boughs, searching for a bright pop of colour emanating sound. The bird rapidly dances across branches and freezes before flying off. She watches it streak across the sky and lies her head against the thick trunk, closing her eyes.
A hand closes over hers. She screams. Her eyes snap open. She pulls away, but her hand is trapped. She looks from her hand to the trunk, trying to pin down a thought in her head. She is yanked forward. Slammed into the trunk. Her scalp stings when bark pulls out stands of her hair. She is pulled around the trunk. A black face. No- a balaclava. With shiny eyes. And a hand rising toward her fa-