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THE BRUNETTE GIRL SAT IN THE CORNER OF THE CHURCH ATTIC. HER BACK WAS HUNCHED OVER, CRAMPED, AND SORE, BUT HER HANDS DIDN'T FALTER. NOT ONCE DID SHE RAISE HER HAND FROM THE SKETCH PAD THAT SHE WAS DRAWING IN. Her hands began to smudge against the papers, the top corner of the drawing looked streaked, fingerprints danced around the edges.
The frantic girl quickly sat up, she wasted no time in putting the many papers side by side. Placing them in a way that would allow her to see the picture clearly. Her knees ached as she sat to organize the many images, undoubtedly leaving red marks on her skin. Her shaking hands smoothed out the edges of her dress, her back feeling relieved after her feet took the weight.
As the young girl stood up, she could feel her anxiety start to leave her, her body no longer ached and her hands were able to stretch. She let out a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling, and turned her head to the side to look at the man beside her. His jaw was clenched, anger was visible in his eyes. His nostrils flared, and his hands were clenched.
"Is this her?" The young girl paused before looking back down at the drawing. "The girl from the other night?"
Marcel nodded. "How come you couldn't find her the other night? Whats the difference?"
"Her magic, i-its something I've never dealt with before. I've never seen it, or felt it. It wasn't something that I had even heard of the coven talking about. But it's strong, almost untraceable. If I wasn't as powerful as I am now I would never have even sensed it."
"Could you trace it?"
"Maybe. With time, and I can't even guarantee it will work."
"Thank you, Davina."
With once last glance at the girl in the drawings, Marcel turned to the right and walked out the church doors.
