The Flock of Luka

When Darren wakes up following morning, the dogs are nowhere to be found. Hastily he throws on a shirt and sprints down the stairs; during the one and a half weeks they’ve slept in his room they haven’t gone anywhere without him. And he always closes the door, it was even closed now.

He finds his brothers in the kitchen, eating breakfast, and hurriedly asks them if they’ve seen the troop.

They both shake their heads. “No, sorry – I thought they sleep in your room?”

Darren doesn’t reply, but gives a worried sound, like a whine. Running to the kitchen door, he throws on his green rubber boots before running out.

He’s starting to feel really panicky, scanning the stables and the long-since abandoned barn (They only kept the hay in there).

He glances on the clock on the stable wall, stating that it’s already 9. Maybe he thinks. Maybe they went for a walk on their own. But then he realises that it explains nothing of his bedroom door, how could it still be closed?

He leaps off anyway, running the track they usually walk, the one through the cow pen. By the time he’s leapt the around the path he’s sweating, out of breath, his heart is aching from the effort and he feels sick. Whether it’s from the running or worry, he doesn’t know; probably a bit of both.

He sets off into the forest, their other usual round, hoping for his life that they haven’t gone anywhere else.

He’s nearing the small pond, almost in the centre of the forest, slowly, too tired to run or even jog, but too anxious to stop and rest.

So he hears laughter. A soft, thrilling female laughing, he figures, but he still can’t see them yet. And then comes a splash. The female shrieks a bit but continues to laugh, quickly joined by a male’s laughter.

Finally he can see them, standing behind a tree right by the edge of the clearing the small lake is in.

A girl with long, blonde, curly hair is sitting on the big rock that Darren and his brothers used to dive from when they were younger, back towards him.

He can’t see the boy – or boys, as he suddenly hears two male voices -, sheltered by the stone.

Hesitantly, he takes a step towards them, It’s not until he steps on a dry twig, snapping under his weight, that he gets noticed.

How they can hear and get startled by such a small sound in the middle of their conversation is beyond Darren, but he pushes the thought to the back of his head.

The girl has turned around ands the boys heave themselves up, onto the broad rock.

“Uh, I-I just…” Darren swallows, feeling a bit awkward with just his pyjama pants, a worn-out t-shirt and boots. He freezes, forgetting absolutely everything else, when he sees one of the boys. It’s him, with the eyes, the one leaving the letter.

“Oh, hi. Sorry; hope you don’t mind us borrowing your towels,” the redheaded boy says, wrapping a dark blue towel around himself and the dark haired boy nods, agreeing, wrapping the faded, orange towel around his hips.

Darren shakes his head. “No, no, I’m just looking for these-” he breaks off, realising what the guy had said. “What? Who-who are you?”

The girl slips off the rock, pushing strands of her curly hair behind her ear. “Well… Darren…-” He begins to ask her how she knows his name, but she holds up her hand, putting him to silence. “We thought you would’ve figured out by now, especially with Garth’s letter and all… But you haven’t and…”

Darren’s still too shocked to realise that she called him stupid. “…well, we’re them; we’re the flock of Luka."