The Boy's Companions Chapter 3

Oliver lay wide awake in his bed , unable to sleep due to both the lingering feeling of worry over his father's absence, as well as the weight of the responsibility he now possessed.  The medallion passed down his family line was now his to look after until his dad returned. He held it close to his chest, and tried to close his eyes.
    They instantly snapped open, however, after a loud crack of thunder echoed from outside. He jumped out of his bed, and scampered to his window to investigate the noise.
    To his surprise, the sky was completely clear, not even a single cloud indicating a potential storm. As a matter of fact, the sky had been clear all day, giving no reason for there to be bad weather that evening. The situation was very unusual, and he decided it warranted further inspection. He slipped on his patched up cloak and shoes, and then stepped outside.
    From his front door, he had a perfect view of the graveyard, but it was filled with fog. The only thing he could make out was a dark, humanlike figure, which was quickly approaching the graveyard's entrance.
    For just a few moments, Oliver stood still, unsure of what he should do. He thought of perhaps going back inside to get his mother, but decided against it, as she had been feeling unwell. He also knew that if he got a neighbor from the nearby village, they would get there too late.
    He then naively thought that the stranger was just lost, and didn't realize they were trespassing. He figured that perhaps he could make them go away with a point in the right direction. So, he donned a brave face, and marched in the direction of the graveyard entrance. 
    As soon as he reached the front gate, he cupped his hands around his mouth to call out to the stranger, who was already wandering around the graveyard, as if looking for someone.
    However, he immediately stopped himself, as a sudden chill in the air instantly dissipated the bravery that he had felt before. He couldn't see very well, but he could barely make out the figure of a  woman in a black cloak, who spread even more fog with every step she took, indicating that she was likely the source of the unusual weather. 
    Oliver found himself  frozen in fear of the unknown individual. He knew that she was clearly not from the area, and that there was no way he could let her trespass. Despite this, there was nothing he could do, as his legs felt like stone, and all of his rational thoughts were replaced with paralyzing fear. Instead of stopping her, he felt like a fool as he stood completely still.
    Even if his feet hadn't been fastened to the ground, it wouldn't have mattered because the woman promptly noticed him, and turned around. A pale hand emerged from her long sleeve and pointed at him. In an unexpectedly charming voice, she said,
    "Child, you aren't the groundkeeper tasked with watching over these fallen soldiers, are you?"
    He tightly gripped his family's medallion, which was now in his pocket, and looked downwards, unable to maintain eye contact with the stranger. "N-no," he stammered, "that would be my father."
    A cynical smile spread across the woman's face as she removed her hood, revealing a pale complexion complimented with long, silver hair and devilishly red eyes. She kneeled down, lowering herself to eye level with the boy. In a deceivingly soothing voice, she asked yet another question.
    "Do you think you could take me to your father?"
    "I'm very sorry ma'am," he answered, "but my father is away at the moment." As he said this out loud, it only reminded him that he was completely alone in this terrifying situation, and he felt tears begin to make their way down his face. 
    The woman smiled again, this time with more warmth. She placed a hand on his cheek, and used her thumb to wipe away the tears. 
    "I'm truly sorry if I frightened you. Would you feel more comfortable if we exchanged names?"
     He sniffed, and then wiped his face with his sleeve. With a pitiful voice, he introduced himself.
    "I'm Oliver."
     Despite her efforts to make him feel more at ease, he still refused to look up. It was clear to him that she was trying to be nice, but something about it felt very wrong. Her words felt forced and faked, almost as if they were part of a script she had memorized.
    However, as promised, she revealed her name.
"Oliver, huh? How lovely." Her kind expression changed into that of a wicked smirk. "You may call me Linette."
    She then placed a hand on his shoulder, and made one last request.
    "Oliver dear, I have one more very important question for you. Do you think you could hear me out? "
    He nodded.
    She sighed with relief.
     "That's good, you're a very kind boy. So, do you think you could tell me where your father's medallion is?"