drawings

Niviene knelt in the chapel, her head bowed in prayer as the sun’s first rays shone through the stained glass windows above the alter, bathing the small sanctuary in a red and blue haze. She looked around her with the feeling she was drowning, drowning in blood.

Niviene stood inside her office, the hand holding the parcel trembling as she tried to calm herself, taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly until her heart rate slowed to its normal pace. A parcel did not necessarily mean what she thought it might mean. It could just be a package, something from Lyth; it didn’t have to be more drawings.

Watching the children was something that always fascinated Niviene. They had branched out a little since coming to the school when it came to lessons and class discussions but once they found themselves in a social situation the separated once more. It was more evident with the children from the Crystal Lake house in Goldshire than with any of the other groups.

Habits are a good thing to have; they help you to focus on the day ahead of you, plan your time and bring a sense of purpose and normalcy to life.

Niviene had become a creature of habit since moving to the academy. Of course her day began with preparations for class and continued to revolve around the children until the bell chimed the hour of release and her students stampeded out the door. But once their papers were collected and the classroom put back in order the rest of the day was her own.

The little brown squirrel skittered down a nearby tree-trunk, leaping to the soft grass and foliage below, whiskers twitching and eyes wide.  Tanner perked up his ears but did not rise from his position beside Lorith, but Timothy, lying as flat as possible in the grass, twitched his tail, intense eyes following the squirrel’s every move.  Suddenly, the little silver tabby burst into motion, speeding toward the squirrel… which promptly leaped back onto the tree to hide amongst the leafy branches.  Three times Timothy circled the tree trunk, undecided on whether to climb, before sitting back on his haunches and letting out a soft mew of frustration.