The radio sparked to life with the morning news. Presented by the falling leaves and the sound of a lighter igniting. The morning sun shining through the glass roof she used for star-gazing. The red curtains over the glass doors to the porch still shone through the sunlight as a dark red. The sky orange as the dawn, as it always is in Red Falls, and the night a child of the northern lights.
“Good morning you starry eyed dreamers! Did you sleep well? I know someone did. You are running late again. How do I know? Well my daughter Jane is still waiting at the tree, hurry Miss Taurus. You have until Fats Waller goes quiet.”
Fall sprang from bed, throwing on clothes and straightening herself up. An orange skirt and a lime green top, typical Taurus fashion. Sure it looked a little weird and out of place, but they were her favorite colors. The green matched her strange green eyes, then again almost all of her was weird. Her freckled face was one of the only things she got from her family besides her short, bright red hair she had in a bun.
She also had the family trait of being late.
Jane was at the tree like her father, the radioman of Red Falls, delightfully reminded her. Unlike Fall, her friend did mostly resemble her family. She had her mother’s posture and sense of honor as per that side of the family’s Greek ancestry. Her dad was a different story.
Quiet. Reserved. Strange minded, the way he talked and thought about things. Aspects of life in a light one might never think too much on. Jane was like that, always seeing a different view. Fall wanted to tell her about the dreams, they’ve been going on since she was four and she remembers each by heart somehow, but she couldn’t see a reason to. They were always the same until this one.
Starry-blue eyed Jane, with her long frizzled hair brown as a rooster, in her red and purple dotted dress, sat up from their meeting tree.
“You’re late, again,” she said then yawned. “I almost fell asleep.” Her voice was precise and elegant yet quick to hurl words.
“You’re too much of a thinker to sleep, Argei,” Fall joked as they went on their route quickly. Red Falls was an almost isolated town, everyone knew everyone and their extended family. They liked it that way. Fall and Jane being late is nothing new. Falls Waller was still playing, almost slower than what it should be, so they had time.
They avoided the town rascals, the so-called Red Hounds, as best they could.
The Red Hounds saw them from the roof of their 1954 Cadillac coupe deville as they neared a store. A little general store ran by a retired old man, a town legend most people called “Uncle Red” out of respect or fear. He stepped out in his lazily thrown together shirt and pants. His nephew was out of town so he put his clothes out, clean or dirty.
“Can I interest you in my new stock of red pens?” he asked the duo. The Red Hounds stood opposite of the. Fashioned with red and dog symbols all over their clothes. Led by the arrogant, self-centered Smith Groves.
“Old man, you’re killing the vibe. They need a ride, and ours is one they won’t forget! Move,” Smith barked like an over-eager soldier rushing into battle. Black messy hair and bright green eyes much like his sister, more decent of a girl. A cute one.
Uncle Red looked at them sternly, like a Private speaking out of turn. “I got something for you all then, red mongrels. Give me a moment to fetch it. It’s better to always have protection.” He went inside for a moment. Jane linked her arm with Fall. Standing her ground, yet they knew she was afraid. Fall wished she had something! A knife, gun, or even a hammer of all things. The Red Hounds were bastards by trade and donkeys all the same.
Then, he returned.
He came back with a Winchester Model 12 skeet gun loaded with 28 gauge. He had enough shells for every single Red Hound in town! The rascals backed up nervously. Smith was surrounded by his goons, hand firm on an object inside his jacket. Whatever it was, he wasn’t with the right cards.
“You Hounds better get back to your holes, tarnishing the titles you took from our history! Back in my day, it meant something to be called a Red Hound. An honor! Now? A bunch of foxes chasing chickens. Every do it near the farmer and well…no one notices when foxes go missing.” The Red Hounds retreated as per threatened. “Smith, your father died to stop things from getting worse. Honor him or tarnish him with keeping the name. Camulos give you strength and Caireen guide you.”
Uncle Red turned to them, despite his age the old dog could still show his fangs. Whether they were still sharp or not was not up for debate. That and he still had a shotgun within reaching distance. Best not to poke the bear, right?
“Go on, this can of rascals needs to be taught what justice was from my day…where did I leave that grenade again? The bread box or the milk carton?”
Jane took Fall by the arm, hurrying them along the red stones to the academy. She would have Uncle Red go on and on about the Great War and the landscapes he saw. Fall dreamt of almost everything described to her, what colors and strokes. She’d smile and stare off, lost to the colors. Jane was no artist; she just listened and was happy to see that dumb smile on her friend. It always brightened her day. A rainbow after a storm.
“You are such a knight, but we must really be going or all will be tardy or bushwa to our history going!” Jane exclaimed. And they were off, a red streak into the early morning of robins fluttering and tweeting, stones and bricks burning hot, sun glaring down, aster and anemone scents in the air, and the whispers of the Burning Forest echoing to the fools who dare its grounds, where the horrors got bolder, and where they waited patiently.