“Achoo!”
The kit shook her head, trying to clear the
dusty, burning smell that accompanied her father's hexes.
Her
muscles ached with the paces she had been put through that day. Her
back was sore from his discipline. She was exhausted and wanted
nothing more than to sleep.
But he had been drinking.
And
it seemed to Callista, he was always most punishing when he smelt of
Firewater. This night was no different. He had locked her in the
weapon's chest with a hex that never let her relax. The eerie glows
made her hackles rise as she huddled down.
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