"Mitchel?"
The human caught up to her, hands stopping the door from closing, chest heaving, and eyes attentive to hers.
"Is someone chasing you or-?"
"I'm chasing… you?"
Leila shook her head, but let him be. Perhaps both of them needed their own place to think.
And see.
Not every being was inside their house. Most witches outside were children who had nothing to do with the town's past.
Playing in the darkness, carefree and happy, with only the lamps providing their eyes with guidance- Leila envied them. And for a moment, she watched them.
And Mitchel watched with her.
One of the children took a bag out of her pockets. She mouthed words that they could not hear, before throwing the bag in the air. Golden sand puffed out of it and a pony made of the same golden sand took shape. The other children cheered and tried to touch it, but its form was still so unstable that it quickly returned to its original form.
Sand.
