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My footsteps feel hard agianst the hobblestone pathway. I could hear the echo of my pursurers behind me. My breaths were becoming more hollow with every step, I dare not glance over my shoulder. A gunshot wrang out, and I knew it had been near my head. I ran faster, my eyes bulging with fear. As I turned right, I saw a whole in a wooden fence to my left. I dived through it, beating my way through the hedge that had been on the other side. The branches whipped into my eyes, scratching my arms and legs. I tasted blood on my lips, felt a cut on my cheek ooz forth the crimson liquid. Finally, I saw the yard I had battled my way into. I stoped, waiting for a sound. On the other side of the fence I heard the footsteps stop. I held my breath, heart beating so fast and so loud I was sure they could hear it. Their miffled voices cursed, and the ran on. I was safe...for now.

Snow was softly falling from the dark sky. My wounds from the bush stung, but I ignored the pain. I slid down to a sitting postion, leaning my head against the hedge. I let myself breath hard, I was pratically gasping for breath. I closed my eye with exhastion. Suddenly. I heard the door of the house across from me open. THe porch light fired on. I opened my eyes to see a hobbled old man stumbled out and down the steps toward me. His head was mostly bald, a few wisps of gray hair stuck out around his ears. His eyes were not harsh and demanding, but seemed to pity my blood stained form. He was clothed in pale blue stipped pajaim pants and a white shirt, a wooden cain in hand. His feet were bare, and I noticed one was metal. Now that I looked at him closer, his right eyes was also macinalical.
"What ye be doing?" The man asked sharply. I gasped for breath then did my best to reply.
"I...fell through your hedge." I replied between breaths. The man studied me for a moment, then smiled. He was missing wuite a few teeth, for I noticed they were replaced with metal ones. The light fell to his left hand, revealing that it, too, was mecanical.
"Come." He mostioned back to the house. I stumbled after him, the muscles in my legs screaming with pain. We entered the dark house, no light was on. He led me to what I thought to be a livingroom. "Sleep here." He gestered to the couch with his right hand, the one that did not hold the cain. I nodded, the fell onto the couch.



Light was streaming into my eyes as I awoke the next morning. My back and legs were stiff with pain, and my clothing was torn. I looked down at me clothing, puzzeled. Then the events of last night came rushing back to me. I groaned, running my bloody fingers through my matted blonde hair. I looked around the room I was in. I had been right last night, the room resembled a living room. Infornt of me was a rather large T.V. The curtends on the windows were drawn but light still seeped through. A small stand next to the couch supported a phone. A few cabnets housed various possitions of the old man that had rescued me, of atleast, I think they belonged to him. I heard footsteps on creaking stairs. I looked to my left, seeing a staircase through the open door.
"Ello, deary!" He called to me. He smiled, stilling wearing what he had last night. "Aren't you an early bird?" He chuckled slightly. My expression must have been something of bewildernment, for he then said. "Tis barley 7:30, A.M. of course, for it is morning." He started into the room. I stumbled up, wincing as the pain surged through my body.
"Um, alright." I stammered, unsure of what to say.
"Well, I'll make you a spot of breakfast and then we'll decide what to do from there." He smiled, walking into the room. He hobbled across it and walked through the door on the opisite side. He was then lost from view, and I heard water running. I followed the old man, not knowing whatelse to do. I soon entered a kitchen. The floor was tiled with black and white squares, and the counters were very white and starile looking. The stove was black and spotless, as was the fridge. The kitchen table was wooden, a very light wood I could not edenify, and hading matching chairs. Asorted pictures doaned the walls. The old man opened the fridge and withdrawed some eggs. He then crossed to one of the cabnets, pulling out a cast-iron skillet, and placed it on the stove. The second knob on the right was missing, I noticed. He turned the knob that was next to that one. He looked at me and smiled, then cracked the eggs, putting the eggs in the skillet.
"Go ahead an' sit at the table, deary." He told me. I nodded and did so. Five mintues passed with no speaking. I looked at my scratched hands, dispiaring at the pain. I was alittle confused why this old man choose to help me, when I was so oviousily being chased. I looked up to see him scooping some scrambled eggs onto a plate.
"Here you go." He said as he placed the plate infront of me.
"Th...thankyou!" I stammered, glad for the food. Now that I thought of it, my stomach was howling with pain. I took the fork that had been on the plate a took a bite.
"Your welcome. Now what is your name, miss?" The old man asked, sitting across from me. His icey blue eyes stared intently on me.
"My...my name?" I asked, gupling down some more eggs.
"Yes." He replied simplily.
"Sabriel."
"Ah, I'm Wilson"
We looked at eachother, I ate some more. When I had finished he stood and took my plate to the sink.

(To be countined...)