Catriona spent the remainder of her day turning away her apprentices, faking an illness, and attempting to communicate with Isla. By evening exhaustion had claimed her. She made sleeping arrangements on the chair for the girl and checked the door locks again. She slipped into her bed and pulled the blankets to her chin.
Her mind replayed the events of the day. Maybe she should have agreed to keep the child or find a good home in Maskil for her. Then Alaura wouldn’t have to risk her life to reach Petra. Perhaps Isla did have enough magic ability to please those in the northern town.
Magic, she grumbled to herself. It has brought this trouble into my life.
Old memories surfaced and danced in her head like sparks from a fire. As quickly as one burnt out, another took its place. To find peace she had to extinguish them.
A whisper of wind brushed against her skin, and she found herself home with her family. They laughed and talked without noticing her. Her mother filled the table with ration, and her father ruffled the hair of his youngest son as he showed him a map he had completed.
Catriona sighted Rod, the middle child. Young and full of energy, he often hopped around as if barefoot on a hot rock. But Rod seemed subdued as he stared back at her. Catriona gasped as grey fog seeped over his shoulders. No one else noticed the fog consuming Rod. He cried for help, but powerless to save her beloved brother, she sat motionless. The ache in her heart expanded, knowing she had created the fog.
Catriona pounded the mattress with her fist. She’d thought time would fade the memories, but on dark nights like this it felt as if her brother had disappeared only yesterday. Her head hit the pillow hard. She forced herself to think of other things.