Betty Charlotte Beaglesworth hated to be alone, so finding herself walking along the country road was a very odd thing indeed. Our story begins here, though she certainly started some time earlier, and the road, much earlier than that. And the country, well my goodness, we can scarcely even remember.
Betty's trimmed nails clicked as she walked along the pavement. Up ahead, the smells changed a bit as another road cut her path and opened up with two more, in opposite directions. Standing at the crossroads, she lifted her head, ears flopped back as she sniffed the air, and sniffed for something strong and beckoning. But the air was sunshine and dusty pavement and corn growing old. She turned her to look up each new path. Just wind and earth and green turning beige.
Her ears caught something. Laughter, trapped beyond a treeline to the right. With it, another shade of laughter, playing tag and slipping from the tall grass and leaves. It wasn't at all difficult for Betty to find the children, beside the pond and pines, a wooden house nearby.
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