fleeing

A shadow stronger than her power over the Dark loomed over the small forest clearing she called home. She sensed a presence trying to break into the hiding spell she cast as she walked the path home from the Manor, where she

Her last sanctuary, defiled. Sandra waited amongst the trees as she felt the presence trying to break in, trying to sniff out her power. How she felt weak, powerless--this was a power greater than hers, probably the source of her power itself. She cannot possibly challenge it, for fear that she would die in the process.

And as soon as she felt the power, it disappeared. Quickly she went back inside her shack, looking over her shoulder every so often. All her spell-tools were left intact--her scrying shard was still on her shelf, her cauldron still had the last remnants of the brew she had started to make several nights before. Her book still lay open on the page that she had left it, yet there was something different about the page that it was opened to.

A line of the spell was missing; the spell of secrecy was broken.

She had to flee.

Dumping the contents of the half-brewed potion she was making into the fire, she scooped up the scrying shard, the book, several herbs, and her quill; dumping all into her small sack she used as a bag. Grabbing the cauldron and the bag, she did one final spell on the shack, and ran out in the direction of the Manor.

She needed to redo the Enchantment; the Circle she had made in her grove was broken.

She feared for him, and herself as well.

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