Stray

Joanna Edwards walked into the door from the yard, and a little piece of dirt fell to the floor. She put away the garden shovel in silence, and her skirt smelled of roses. It was completely dark but the warning from the bell tower from the Church of Penitence was particularly dazzling.

“Mother,” Cahill nodded to Mrs. Edwards who was wiping her hands. He was leaning against the bookshelf in the living room, looking through his books casually. “…You’re injured.”

The old woman was wiping her hands with a handkerchief. The red on the handkerchief was particularly dazzling.

“It was too dark,” she replied softly. “There was just something wrong with the cutting magic. Don’t worry.”

Cahill controlled wheelchair approached. He carefully held up the old woman’s wrinkled hand and a golden light of healing magic appeared from his fingers. The wound disappeared as if it had been erased. He breathed a sigh of relief, raise his face and smiled.

“I’m a healer. You can rely on me more, mother.” Cahill said happily, covering back Mrs. Edwards’ hand with her palm. Her hand was small, wet, and cold, like a corpse that was exposed from the soil in a cemetery. “Your hands are too cold. Have you been uncomfortable lately?”

“I’m fine.” Mrs. Edwards curled the corners of her mouth and took back her hand.

“The flowers on the table have been changed. Did you had guests this afternoon?”

“Those Black Chapters. They had some questions about the task,” she replied, moving the case so that the light on the table glowed brighter.