WHO: Libby Harper & Angel Argent WHAT: the ghost of a slain rogue omega reaches out WHERE: Beacon Hill Preserve WHEN: evening of Thu 9/17 RATING: PG-13 at most? STATUS: Complete
Sneakered feet pounded against the thin layer of leaves and twigs that coated the dirt. It wasn't so far along in September yet that many trees were shedding their dying pieces onto the ground. Having grown up in one of the small hill towns dotting the bottom of the Berkshires of western Massachusetts, Libby was used to truly splendid fall foliage. In her opinion, no place did autumn quite like New England. Even when she moved to New York for college and beyond, she was close enough to make it out of the city and to the Adirondacks whenever she was missing the mountains. At least she was still in the northeast where things felt somewhat familiar. Beacon Hills wasn't so bad, as California went. Her vision of California amounted to the likes of L.A., San Fran, Orange County, Beverly Hills, and Hollywood, none of which were really her scene. She was a nature girl, preferring the quiet enclosure of mountains and woods to sunny beaches and bustling metropolises and paparazzi camped out in unlikely places.
It was a school night, but she couldn't sleep. Still hyped up on nervous energy that she itched to work off, Libby went off trail, going deeper into the woods than she normally did. In retrospect, running by herself in the woods after dark was probably not the smartest idea, especially with all the local reports of a number of vicious animal attacks. As far as Libby knew, there have been five so far. She'd heard talk in town about the possibility of a curfew being instated if the attacks continued. The one concession she made for the sake of safety was not jogging with her usual earbuds in, blasting music as she ran. She was supposed to be a positive example for the high school students she worked with, not someone who made questionable choices herself.
She wasn't sure what was making her take this path. She was mindlessly going along, her eyes glued more often to the ground beneath her feet than was probably wise, though she would argue she was merely trying to avoid tripping over roots or rocks. It would not do her any good to fall down and twist something if she was going to insist on running by herself in the woods after dark. Libby didn't notice it at first, given her state, but the heartbeat she sensed pounding against her temple was not solely her own.