Mist smiled happily to herself, gazing around at all the
ruins and artifacts from the phantoms.
The Phantom Museum was the place she loved to go, a place that made her
feel curious, and gave her an eerie feeling of belonging inside.
As Mist
strolled through the building, she glanced at things such as the ancient maps
of the previous phantom headquarters and ragged books full of phantom
secrets. None caught her interest, and
she quickened her pace, her heart beating faster, as she neared the exhibit
that she loved the most. Well, she
couldn’t say that she loved it. But it
gave her a rather strange, unfamiliar feeling, one that she had never felt
outside of the museum.
Approaching
the exhibit, Mist noticed the place seemed deserted. That strange feeling seemed to seep inside of
her again, as she slowly walked up to the exhibit. The Phantom King’s most treasured prize. The Phantom King’s Crown Jewel.
Just as
the feeling seemed to settle inside of her, Mist felt something seem to tremor
and she sighed. She pulled out of her
purse a golden paintbrush, one with a glowing blue tip. Frustrated, Mist turned around and headed for
home.
When
Mist entered the front yard, a beautiful pink rabbit with an ear patch was
waiting for her. “Mist, where have you
been? It’s been at least twenty minutes
since I paintbrushed you.”
Mist
gritted her teeth. “I was really tired
today,” Mist lied. Really, she had been
thinking about The Phantom King’s Crown Jewel.
The
rabbit narrowed her eyes before saying, “Well come inside, dear, you must be
freezing!” As she was turning away, Mist
muttered under her breath,” I’m an arctic wolf with long fur, in case you
hadn’t noticed, not a silly bunny that gets cold in the summer!”
The
rabbit turned around and gave Mist a sharp look. “What was that you just said?”
Mist
sighed and rolled her eyes. “Nothing,
Auntie Peck.”
Peck
narrowed her eyes. “Remember, Mist, just
because you have an alpha as an adopted aunt, doesn’t mean you get to misbehave
when you like to!” With a nod, as if
that settled the matter, she added,” Now why don’t you go work in your art
studio for a bit?”
Mist
growled. “I told you, I hate working in
my studio! I don’t want to be an
artist! I want to be myself!” As she was about to leave, Mist whirled
around again. “Why didn’t you save my
parents from the phantoms? They wouldn’t
force me to be an artist! Grr… I hate
being an orphan!”
With a
lash of her tail, Mist spun around and raced off into the growing
darkness. Behind her, Peck’s eyes darkened
with sadness and knowledge.
To be continued…
