LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND
The Past
Once the torrential rain stopped, Morag scuttled over to the door and opened it up. “Now out with ye,” she said, making sweeping hand motions, indicating for Jillian to move.
Jillian rolled her eyes. “Fine. But if it starts raining again, I’m coming back.” She stood from the chair and gathered her cloak around her shoulders. Dragging her feet, she made her way to the door.
Morag snorted as she passed. “Ye will no melt ye know.”
“I know but I do not like the rain.”
“I am sure the rain does no like ye either!”
Jillian turned for a rebuttal but was too late. Morag had already slammed the door shut in her face.
“Old bat,” she grumbled, stepping down off the stair. Once she was out from under the porch, she looked up at the sky. Grey fat-bellied clouds pressed down from above and it looked like it was about to open up at any minute and rain once again. Irritated with her plight, she kicked a stone across the flat ground and was rewarded with a sharp pain shooting through her toes.
“Ow,” she whined, limping now, as she made her way back towards Greystone.
♦
Peering outside the window, Morag watched until Jillian disappeared from sight. Once she was sure she was gone, Morag turned back around and shuffled over to the cauldron. Her foot ached too, but the pain, unlike Jillian, was not from kicking a stone, or anything else for that matter. No, this pain was from the residual effects of her last spell that was now wearing off. Other parts of her body hurt too, but she mostly ignored it because she knew it would get much worse before it got better—if it got better, she thought grimly.