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Ella Claire Gainsborough {Beauty} (bookshelved) wrote in bellumlogs,

The alternating calm and storm kept her from finding her footing. She didn't know whether to listen or duck, and she suspected that was what made the witch so dangerous; the not knowing. It reminded her of someone just outside the edges of her memory, and though she tried to catch the thought as it flitted past, it slipped through her fingers.

The Beast's soft whine made her angry at the witch, and with the anger, the vines inched ever closer. From every corner, they crept toward the witch's feet, stopping for a moment when she asked her question. She petted the Beast's fur along his spine, scratched at the back of his neck. "I do not know," she said. It wasn't a lie; she had no idea how it was happening; it simply was.