Her kitchen looked like an apothecary. A batch of recently-dried herbs covered most surfaces; various shades of dull, dead colors gave the room a very pagan (or at the very least scientific) hue. As for the woman working the mortar and pestle, she could hardly have passed for a witch if she tried. It wasn't terribly off the mark, though, was it?
Sadie lifted the bowl to waft its scent up to her nose. Well, that would do. She dusted her hands on the apron tied around her waist, then stopped in mid-reach for a ceramic jar.
Hili had suddenly woken from a demon-nap, and she felt his reach spreading out like a fishing net. It wasn't uncommon, not even in her own home, but neither were the waking nightmares brought on by the demon's wandering. "What is it now," she asked the empty room, only somewhat irritable.
It happened, then: a shadow in the form of a man appeared in her peripheral vision. Close and closer. This never got less terrifying no matter how many times she endured it -- who could acclimate to a shadow person stalking toward them and the perceived stench of a pyre? Closer. And. Closer.
She felt her back bump into the back door, unable to register the tell-tale sounds of a non-imaginary visitor on her porch. The shadow was upon her, and she swallowed a scream as she fumbled with the door, throwing it open to flee -- unable to choose anything except for illogical flight into the foggy night.