Hybrid: The Mark

The Witch

Sirah led out a surprised gasp and turned around. A girl of her age with curly amber hair, draped on her shoulders and dressed in a white lace gown stood before her. Sirah figured the girl to be a witch because the witches clan inherited white as their symbol

"That is odd because you are a vampire." The girl spoke with a straight face.
She walked towards Sirah, tipped her chalice to pour her clear vial onto the same place where Sirah had poured blood.
A faint sizzle crackled. A vial bond between a vampire and a witch

Sirah's surprise faded when the girl looked up at her again.
"Do not worry, our secret's safe with me." She smiled. "I am Mikaela.""Sirah." She replied back in a small voice.
"You come here often?" Mikaela questioned.
"Sometimes." Sirah replied gazing the sunlight streaming through the canopy of the trees.
"Nice to have a company, finally. I will be looking forward to meet you during the formation." Mikaela grinned and walked out.

Sirah's hand lost the grip on the knife that she had unconciously gripped when Mikaela walked in. It found surprising to Sirah that she got easily aquainted with one of her enemies, a witch.
Sirah inhaled the essence of the calming presence of the forest and walked back to the clan's ground to practise for her proficiency with her father.
After the day's worth archery, her father led the usual way to home.
Sirah still couldn't forget the faint scene of images about the incident. She dried herself after a hot water bath to treat her sore body still thinking about Mikaela.

Her father cleared his throat after the moments of silence over the supper.
"Don't disgrace me like you usually do in the proficiency." He concluded in his brassy voice.
Sirah wanted to grab hold of his long, curly black locks and thrust his head over and over again on the mantle before burning him alive. She calmed herself with a small gulp of soup and concentrated on eating.

After blowing the fire out, Sirah went to her room. She looked at herself in the mirror and tried a small smile. It was hard recognising her own reflection. All through the good heartedly life she led, she never got the moment to smile for real. A waver of embarrasment crossed her face and she laid down hugging her blanket close to her face. After silent moments of breathing, she drifted out to sleep.