The air was unsettled tonight: still all around her, yet the trees were swaying constantly. And she could hear his voice in the thunder, see his face in the mist. Had she perhaps stirred something best left to its slumber?
Gathering her anthame and cauldron into her satchel and snuffing out the candles before including them in her pack, Leighondra left her circle of stone and walked brusquely back to her apartment. A cry from a bird of prey caused her to stop and look to the tree to her right where a Peregrin falcon dined on a field mouse. Strange, she thought, falcons don't hunt at night.
"But I do..."
Leighondra gasped, turning sharply and unsheathing the katana under her cloak. No one there. Sighing, shaking her head, she sheathed the blade and continued on the forest path. Foolish to think her one Working could've called anything that powerful.Yet she couldn't help but feel something- someone- trailing phantom nails across her skin as she drew her cloak ever closer.
The scent of her power overshadowed the scent of her blood and he drank it in slowly, savoring every drop. Foolish was she for not knowing her own greatness...
