Chapter five
The Cure
After a while I came across a birch tree with a funny sticky out ball that hung on the end of it. According to my woodland guide book that was in my bag, it was called an Epicormic growth. It said that birch trees with them on are trying to rid of a disease within them. Can you see it on the right?
I opened the woven birch door and stepped inside.
The more I looked around, the more I warmed to the place.
In the kitchen there were racks of plates and bowls hanging securely on the cream painted walls. Transparent wine glasses stood neatly in order on the window sills.
In the next room a ruby red arm sofa stood beside a well varnished book case.
Upstairs there were three bedrooms, each with e double four poster bed, a chest of draws, a wardrobe and mirror and a separate bathroom.
No-one was about so I decided I would stay there for a night or two.
I found a huge, white, fluffy towel in the airing cupboard; I took it into the bathroom and ran the taps for a nice hot bath.
Once the water was warm I slipped into it, wincing when my wounds hit the liquid.
I rubbed the lavender smelling soap into my long golden hair; untangling my hair was a struggle since it had not been washed for quite a long time and I had been roaming in the woods for most of the day.
Gently, I smothered myself with the towel, being careful not to wipe my wounds.
Then suddenly I realised I could not actually feel them.
They had totally disappeared; it must have been that soothing lavender soap.
I wrapped myself in a pure white robe and headed for the biggest master bedroom.
I changed into a pair of fluffy pyjamas and went down stairs to the kitchen.
I prepared myself some holly berry pudding and sat in front of the blazing fire.
After a few nights in this lovely new home I felt a need to go back to my old house.
I started flying back to where my adventure began. I found my dear home in a relatively good condition however the door was hanging off its hinges and the hand sewed curtains were billowing in the wind.
I fluttered upstairs into the old nursery and nesting in my moorland pony's tatty mane was two innocent little Beagle puppies. They were curled up next to each other groaning softly.
I whisked them up into my warm duvet. Slowly but surely the furry little creatures opened their transparent glassy eyes.
They raised their heads and suddenly jumped up and started chasing after me, biting my toes playfully.
Once I had worn them out I watched them fall asleep and I knew we were going to be friends for life…