When Claire was seven, she had a very strange dream.
Impossibly tall trees towered above her, the sound of their distant rustling like whispers. The air in the dappled shadows was cool and still, broken only by a murmuring of unseen water. Claire looked down at her bare feet, skin pale against the deep green moss covering the earth. Static made her pink nightgown cling to her slim legs.
Where was she?
A fluttering overhead caught her ear, and she looked up, her eyes searching the shadowed branches. Nothing was visible, but the whispering of the leaves seemed to increase ominously. She began walking carefully toward the sound of water, chewing her lip.
What was this place?
Her feet padded on the moss as if it were thick green carpet, soft and cool against her skin. She made her way through sparse brush, the leaves parting before her invitingly.
Screech!
The sudden cry behind her made her start in fear, and she froze, looking back into the shadows. It was darker, as if the sun had not only disappeared behind a cloud, but descended to the horizon in a matter of moments.
Her heart thudded, and she whimpered a little. Another angry cry gave wings to her feet.
She flew through the brush, tiny twigs and leaves slapping her in the face and across the arms. She glanced behind her once, not sure what she expected to see.
Green eyes glinted in the twilight.
Claire cried out and stumbled when her foot hit a nearly buried rock. She fell headlong, her hands splashing into a pool of water.
“You aren’t right. You’re not what you’re supposed to be!”
Claire looked up to see a boy of about her own age glaring down at her.
“There’s a… a…” She pointed helplessly behind her, too terrified to look for the eyes of the creature that had pursued her.
“Yes. A cockatrice.” The boy’s blue glare intensified. His eyes were rimmed in red, and she had a fleeting thought that perhaps he had been weeping. “You should know better than to wake a sleeping cockatrice.” His eyes flicked behind her with a frisson of fear, and he grabbed her shoulder. “Back you go, then.” He pushed her into the pool of water, hurrying her deeper while glancing over his shoulder. A final shove sent her flailing, the water closing over her head. Her last glimpse of him was of his silver-white hair plastered down by water, one arm flung up against a beaked maw that struck with cobra-like speed. Claire screamed, water filling her mouth.
She woke, trembling and sweaty, tangled in her blankets.