EXT. SCHOOL – DUSK
Melia lazily strolls out of the ornately carved front entrance, past a large polished wooden plaque bearing the school motto:
“The rabbit wins the race.” (in Latin)
She ducks and wriggles through the gap underneath the heavy metal chain that binds the wrought-iron gates. Her lightweight SWEATER snags on the rough metal, a tiny strand of wool flutters in the breeze.
She curses as she gently plucks it off, releasing it to float, carried away by the light wind. She checks her sleeve, smoothing the tiny pucker in the fabric; no harm done.
She resumes her walk down the grass-lined gravel lane that leads back through the village, strutting, her hips swaying suggestively, her stiletto heels clicking and crunching through the stones.
The sleepy little idyll that was Trystan attracted the upper classes, which was fortunate because she could afford luxuries like the cashmere sweater she had just ripped. She strolls, her mind wondering, her eyes unfocussed.
A twig SNAPS, the undergrowth lining the lane RUSTILING ominously. Melia quickens her pace, her nerves frayed almost beyond repair. A small chocolate-coloured RABBIT pops it’s twitching nose out of the foliage, shining black eyes staring at her, unblinking.
Melia shivers, turning away from the rodent. She continues down the road, farms unfolding either side of the muddy track.
