Archive:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Spook%20Quest It’s been about a month since we’ve returned from Oendal, glad to put the the dirty, grimy city behind us.
I’ve returned to my studies, learning more about witches and boggarts still, while Mr Johnson continues life as normal, scribbling notes out, day after day, taking odd work.
Winter’s well and truly set in now, even in Arling, the gorgeous red of the apple trees leaves turning to bare branches all the way into town. That’s a shame.
Marmalade seems glad to have us back though, having spent the first few days rubbing around our legs affectionately, before typical feline indifference took over her once more, and she returned to her position of assuming superiority while lying by the fire.
Kara and I are currently trudging into town, grocery run. She’s not really handling the cold that well, even all rugged up in winter clothes, she clutches herself close… but she insists on coming with me anyway.
“Oi, morning midgets.” Alison grins, stomping across the snow, a cheerful smile etched on her face. “Getting food?” We nod, “Good, skies afire, but I’m bored.” Her father’s banned her from leaving the village after Alison’s… ‘appropriation’ of the family barge on our trip.
I rub my hands and huff some hot breath into them, feeling a brief tingle in my arm hairs, glimpsing a brief glance of two children wearing black through the trees, but I take another step and the two are gone… weird.
I’ll check that out on the way back.
The snowfall starts picking up again, flurries of ice flying up in our faces, Kara whimpering. “Why does winter have to be so cold?” She asks through the muffle of her scarf.
“It seems to be its defining feature.” I muse, giving her a grin that she can’t see. “Just a little further.”
