you know my father?” she asked.
To Caitlin’s surprise, the man slowly nodded back.
“Where is he?” Caitlin asked.
“That is for you to find out,” he said. “You are the one who carries the keys.”
“Who is he?” Caitlin asked, desperate to know.
Slowly, the man shook his head.
“I am merely a shepherd on the way.”
“But I don’t even know where to look!” Caitlin responded, desperate. “Please. I have to find him.”
The shepherd slowly broke into a smile.
“Always, the best place to look is right where you are,” he said.
And with that, he covered his head and turned and crossed the square. He passed through the arched gate, and a moment later, he was gone, his sheep following.
Always the best place to look is where you are.
His words rang through Caitlin’s mind. Somehow, she sensed it was more than just an allegory. The more she dwelled on it, the more she felt that it was literal. As if he were telling her there was a clue right here, where she was.
Caitlin suddenly turned and searched the well, the place they had been sitting. Now, she sensed something.
Always the best place to look is where you are.
She knelt down and ran her hands along the ancient, smooth stone wall. She felt all along it, feeling more and more certain that something was there. That she had been led to a clue.
“What are you doing?” Caleb asked.
Caitlin ignored him, searching frantically, scanning all the cracks of all the stones, feeling she was onto something.
Finally, halfway around the well, she stopped. She found one crack that was slightly larger than the others. Just large enough to get her finger in. The stone surrounding it was just slightly too smooth, and the crack was just slightly too big.
Caitlin reached in and pried it open. Soon, the stone began to wiggle, then to move. The stone came loose, out of the base of the well. Behind it, she was amazed to see, was a small hiding place.
Caleb came close, huddling over her shoulder, as she reached down into the darkness. She felt something cold and metal in her hand, and pulled it out slowly.
She raised her hand into the light, and slowly opened her palm.
She could not believe what was in it.
CHAPTER FIVE
As Scarlet stood there with Ruth, at the end of the dead end, her back to the wall, she watched in fear as the group of bullies set their dog loose on her. Moments later, the huge, wild dog was charging, snarling, aiming right for her throat. It was all happening so fast, Scarlet hardly knew what to do.
Before she could react, Ruth suddenly snarled and charged right for the dog. She leapt into the air and met the dog halfway, sinking her fangs into its throat. Ruth landed on top of her, pinning her to the ground. The dog must have been twice Ruth’s size, yet Ruth pinned her effortlessly, not letting her get up. She would not let go. She clamped her fangs down with all she had, and soon, the dog stopped struggling, dead.
“You little bitch!” screamed the lead boy, furious.
He burst out of the pack and charged right for Ruth. He raised a stick, sharpened at one end into a spear point, and brought it down right for Ruth’s exposed back.
Scarlet found her reflexes kicking in, her body taking over, and burst into action. Without even thinking she sprinted for the boy, reached up and caught his stick in midair, right before it hit Ruth. She then pulled him towards her, leaned back and kicked him hard in the ribs.
He keeled over, and she kicked him again, this time in the face with a roundhouse kick. He spun around and landed face-first on the stone.
Ruth turned and charged the group of boys. She leapt high in the air, and sank her fangs into one boy’s throat, pinning him to the ground.
That left only three of them.
Scarlet stood there, facing them, and suddenly, a new feeling overtook her. No longer did she feel afraid; no longer did she want to run from these boys; no longer did she want to cower and hide; no longer did she want the protection of her mommy and daddy.
Something snapped inside her. She crossed some sort of invisible line, some sort of tipping point. Instead, she felt, for the first time in her life, that she didn’t need anybody. All she needed was herself. Instead of fearing the moment, now, she relished it.
Scarlet felt herself infused with rage,