Golden Box Book Publishing One Picture: Thousands of Words | Page 11

She felt lightheaded and closed her eyes for a few seconds. When
the dizziness passed and opened her eyes, a strange sensation filled
her body and mind. She felt the energy around her and watched in
fright as the pile of dead leaves that had cushioned her fall stirred and
gathered around her gently lifting her back up through the gap.
“Whoa!” a surprised scream erupted from her chest as she steadied
herself at the edge of the gaping hole. This place is magical! I’m
going to show it to grandma, she thought dreamily but quickly came
to her senses. Glancing at the horizon she knew she didn’t have a
second to waste if she wanted to harvest the flower of the Woodruff
Iris.
Watching every step carefully, she walked to the beautiful patch of
flowers. She knelt, took her athame out of its embossed leather
sheath, and waited, blade pressed against a blood-red stem. As soon
as the sun touched the horizon, Camilla made the cut. What if the
others can’t find the flower? There is plenty here. She thought as the
plants shivered, and she held three perfect blossoms in her hands. She
allowed herself a few moments to admire the delicate black petals
before tucking the knife back into its sheath, and gently placed the
flowers inside the leather pouch that hung on a thong around her
neck.
After bowing her head for a minute and thanking the plant for
letting her harvest its delicate flowers, she stood up and raced back
on the path, following her grandmother’s sigils with a satisfied, smile
on her face.
She anxiously waited a few minutes until finally, she spotted her
fellow acolytes walking back on the witches’ path with shoulders
hunched and gloomy expressions on their faces. As they stopped,
Camilla noticed their hands were empty. Her heart twisted.