When Ali was only a few months old, her mother took her in her arms and whispered softly to her, telling her that they were going into the forest. Sneaking away after dark, she carried her away in an old sweater from high school. As they ran through the overgrown bushes, the plants scraped her mother’s legs, leaving scarlet lines along her calves. She ran throughout the night, until suddenly, they stopped. She remembered being set down on a mossy stump, well hidden by a blackberry bush. The bush was full of fruit and the smell of ripe berries filled the air with a sweet aroma. Looking up from where she rested, she watched her mother stumble away in the opposite direction from which they had come. That was Ali’s first memory.

The orphanage was only a few blocks away, but she liked to take the long route through the winding trails in the woods. There was an old, decaying bridge along the path that once had a flowing creek underneath it, but it had dried up long ago. She sat on the edge of the rotting boards, looking out at the vast forest around her. Her eyes widened as she remembered that she had to get back before 3 o’clock or Miss Stacy would have a fit. As she stood up to leave, she paused for a minute before sprinting down the path towards the old concrete building she reluctantly called home. She looked down at the watch on her right wrist. 3:03 PM. 

“You’re late.” Miss Stacy’s voice echoed through the cement hallways, and Ali looked at her black, polished shoes to avoid meeting her disapproving eyes. 

“Yeah, I know,” she said, still not looking up from the ground. 

“Well, go to your room and get started on your homework. I expect you in the dining hall for dinner on time tonight,” she said, sighing.

The walls were smeared with dirt, and she avoided touching the splintered railing on the way upstairs. The door to her room was thin, and the hinges that kept it in the doorframe were so rusty that she had to push with all her strength to get it to swing open.

“Is there no privacy in this place?” a girl shrieked. She must have been new. Ignoring the sudden outburst, Ali trudged over to her bed, where she collapsed into the hard coils of the mattress. She threw her old tennis shoes onto the floor next to her bed, narrowly avoiding scattering a pile of large, blue pills that were tucked under the cover of an open algebra textbook.

“Ali!” a young girl, breathing hard, shouted into the room. “Ali, you’ll never guess what Miss Stacy just told us downstairs!”

That was odd. Miss Stacy never talked to the children at the orphanage, not unless something big was happening. 

“She said they’re going to start digging tomorrow,” said Lucy grimly.

Picking up her shoes and shoving her tired feet into the exhausted soles, she ran out of the room and down the stairs. The forest wasn’t far, and within minutes she could see the treetops over the hills. It was the only place that had ever felt like home, and she felt her heart pounding. Fists clenched, she walked into the silent forest. The trees were listening, and animals scurried out of their burrows to hear what she was about to say. 

“Tomorrow, a crew of trucks reeking of destruction will arrive here to begin demolition for their newest plan: Grand Hills Condominium. If we do nothing to stop them,” said with fire in her eyes, “the entire forest will be destroyed, to be replaced with metal beams and fresh paint.”

Fear tainted the air, whispering songs of destruction into innocent ears. 

“We need to work together if we want to have any chance at stopping them. Is that clear?” she asked. Taking the forest’s silence as agreement, she ran back to the orphanage before she could be caught out after curfew.

The next morning’s air was crisp, and the sky was full of clouds. Fitting, considering what the day would hold. Arriving at the wall of trees, she began to mutter to herself, and then to the trees around her. They shook their branches in agreement.

Loud whirring noises filled the air, breaking the silence. A grey cloud appeared from over the hills, and Ali could feel her heartbeat in her stomach. The heavy gears of the machines could be heard turning, pushing each giant truck up the steep slope. She watched them climb until they reached the top of the hill, where they let out a sigh of relief. 

One of the drivers appeared to lean out his window to yell something in her direction, but Ali couldn’t be sure. She ignored it, as he was probably just delusional. The trucks were still headed towards the woods, but she was certain that her plan would work. She had been practicing her protection spells for ages, and they were near perfect. It wasn’t until the first truck plowed through one of the thick bushes bordering the woods that she started to worry if the spell was strong enough. Closing her eyes, she began muttering to herself again. 

A hand on her shoulder broke her concentration. 

“Ali!” She opened her eyes, and for a second she saw her mother standing in front of her, holding the grey sweatshirt that Ali remembered so well.

“Mom?” She blinked, and her mother was gone. Instead she found herself meeting Miss Stacy’s concerned gaze, and she quickly pulled her shoulder away from her grasp. 

“Ali, we need to get you back to the orphanage immediately,” she said in that tone she always had when something was wrong. As she was being guided into the back of the old, sand-colored Suburban, Ali watched the trees fall behind her, their pained expressions pulling the moisture from her eyes and spilling it onto her rosy cheeks, where rivers formed and ran down her neck. 

She sat at the dining table with the other orphans. It was suppertime. They were having runny mashed potatoes and dry chicken. A woman approached Ali, a cup of water and a blue pill in her hand.

“Take this,” she said in a soft voice. “And let me see your mouth when you’ve swallowed. We can’t have you getting away with not taking them now, can we?” 

Ali nodded, taking the pill from the woman’s hand.