Victoria City was often filled with all kinds of interesting people; far too many to count, given that one had the time. Yet among this wide array of colourful faces and fascinating tales was one interesting person in particular, and her name was Elsie Heartwing.
At present, Elsie had planned on spending her afternoon in the countryside, and well away from the dark mysteries that riddled the sea of late. She sat quietly and comfortably under a tree, on a hill a hill that looked over a very different kind of sea; one made from fresh green grass and trees and trickling streams. Elsie’s hill was a great place for sunsets, where she could watch it all come to life with great splashes of orange.
She was the adventurous type, but she also loved reading, and both traits she inherited from her parents. Elsie’s father, Theodore Heartwing, was an intelligent and charismatic man, and a professor at the University of Victoria City, specialising in archaeology. Her mother, Mary Heartwing, also taught at the university, specialising in botany. Both parents had left Pearl Isle together less than a month ago to work on a research project, leaving Elsie in the care of her brother, Jack Heartwing. Following in her parent’s footsteps, she was already well into her first year as a student at the university. She possessed more of a mind for the literary arts and found the conventions of good story telling to be most intriguing; thus why she sat under a tree upon a hill reading a book.
Soon, as the hour grew late and the sun fell closer to the horizon, Elsie closed her book and returned through the field to Victoria City. It was on her return journey that she heard, from afar, the angered growling of a hound of some sort, and strayed to seek it out. She spotted the hound, a wild grey old beast, bearing its teeth and digging violently at a spot on the ground. Upon further inspection Elsie began to see blood, and realised that whatever the hound was attacking was still alive. Knowing this, she took up a rock in her right hand and hurled it at the beast, saying: “Go on, get out of here! You leave that alone!” The dog, in response, turned to her with deep yellow eyes and lowered its head, barking. Else threw another stone and caught it on the snout, and it whined, before backing away and then dashing off into the sea of green.
The hound’s victim was an adorable – at least it would have been if not for all the blood – little bunny. His fur, from belly to back foot, was a smoky grey colour, while the rest, including his pointy little ears, was snow white. Grey circled his eyes as well, and the back of his head. Unfortunately, however, the bunny was wounded gravely; the worst of it was his front left leg, which had been mangled beyond saving. When Elsie saw this she felt sadness touch her, and she said: “Oh no, what has he done to you? You poor thing.” She then carefully picked up the wounded bunny, as if it were a newborn baby, and she wrapped it in her sweater. “That leg looks really bad, but I promise to look after you until it gets better.” As she made her way home a thought occurred to her that might save the bunny’s life. She nodded, “Basil will know what to do.”
And so, returning at last to Victoria City, Elsie delivered the wounded bunny swiftly to the care of her friend Basil.
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