A lone figure squatted beside the river, throwing stones into the swiftly rushing water at random intervals. The stones were carried on the surface of the river for maybe a second, before sinking like, well, stones. The figure sighed, and rocked slowly back and forwards on her heels. Her long, pale hair brushed the ground as she swayed.

Eventually she rose, automatically arranging her hair to cover her ears. She negotiated her way down the steep bank of rocks, stepping into the river at the bottom. The water rose quickly as she waded in, rising to completely submerge her up to her waist. Her feet scuffed up sand and pebbles from the river floor, while her arms, spread wide, scooted across the surface, spraying water everywhere. A few times the fast-flowing torrent of water knocked her off her feet, and by the time she got out, she was soaked up to her neck. She scowled. Her nylon short-shorts would dry quickly, but her T-shirt was thick cotton and would take a while. She squeezed a bit of the water out of the hem, but gave up quickly.

She walked quietly through the dense bush which was on the other side of the river, her wet feet picking up dirt and fragments of dry autumn leaves. She had to be quiet. She wasn't meant to be here. She wasn't allowed to be here. But she loved the bush and its winding river so much that she couldn't resist it. She wouldn't have made much noise even if she were allowed to be here. There was no point in breaking the peaceful tranquillity that hung around the area like thick fog on a winter's day.

Someone else broke the tranquillity. Someone else by the name of Margaret Lyme.

She came crashing through the foliage like a steamroller, while the girl who had sat beside the stream paused for a moment, then leapt upon the nearest tree, climbing it desperately. But in her panic, she had chosen a bad one. Its branches were sparse, and she couldn't climb very high before being forced to stop, because she simply couldn't reach the next branch. She stood very still.

Margaret was skipping and singing, her arms waving, breaking some of the sturdier branches of the bushes and plenty of the flimsier ones. She stopped right underneath one tree and called up it.

"Reeeiiinaaaa, I can see you. Get down here now!"

Reina slid down the tree trunk until she was just two metres above Margaret's head. She looked down at Margaret's angry face, then leapt from the tree, propelling herself through the air. She landed metres away from Margaret, stumbled, then caught herself and was off through the trees, leaping over the lower bushes and dodging between thick trunks. At last she reached the edge of the wood and sped out into the field that lay beyond it. She heard Margaret's voice floating on the still air behind her.

"Better not come back! This is private property! My property! I don't want to see your ugly face around here ever again!"

Reina didn't stop running until she was two fields away from the bush. She sat down heavily, panting. Then she stood and trudged slowly through the last field and down the street. The neighbourhoods changed as she passed them. They went from swanky to ordinary, ordinary to dull.

And from dull to decrepit, where she stopped. She slipped past a broken gate hanging limply from one hinge and crawled through an open window, which she closed once she was inside. It was impossible to see through the blotchy, discoloured glass. From inside, Reina rubbed feebly at the glass with her bare arm. She couldn't even dislodge the layers of dust, which had accumulated over years of neglect. She looked around the small, cramped room. Her room. Her own private domain.

Not that it was anything to be proud of.

Reina flopped down on her bed and closed her eyes, imagining the woods she had been happy in just an hour ago. She could remember the smooth texture of the stones, the shiny green colour radiating from each and every healthy leaf, and the smell. The fresh, invigorating aroma of earth mingled with fresh air, with a touch of fragrance from the small number of flowers in bloom.

She would visit again tomorrow.