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Josephine emerges from her room, momentarily questioning if it truly belongs to her now. She dispels the thought and moves on.
In the kitchen, Alora is fixing herself a late-night drink, the hour growing progressively later.
"Hello, dear," Alora greets, her tone carrying the weight of fatigue.
Josie responds with a soft smile. "Do you mind if I take a walk? I can't sleep."
Alora nods in understanding. "Sure, just take your wand and don't stay out too long."
With a nod of appreciation, Josie makes her way to the entrance hall, slips on her shoes, and tucks her wand into her coat pocket.
As she steps outside, the January chill embraces her, a reminder of the recent New Year's passage, which has been marked without much fanfare. Tonight, however, Josie's mood doesn't align with celebration.
The cut on her face sends occasional twinges of pain, a result of her restless touching.
Following the driveway, she heads toward the town, a small place she hasn't explored yet but seems fitting for her sleepless ramble.
The frigid wind accompanies her, playing with her hair and causing her to blink against its bite.
Her attention is drawn to the town after a few minutes of walking. Despite the late hour, only a few lights remain lit, and most shops have closed for the night, casting a peaceful ambiance. Josie sighs, burying her hands in her pockets, her fingers brushing against her wand.
Surprisingly, the town boasts more shops than its size would suggest. Josie's gaze lingers on a clothing store before she continues her stroll, her footsteps rhythmically tapping on the pavement.
Yet, her focus shifts when she notices a pair of footsteps echoing hers. Though barely perceptible, her steps falter briefly before returning to their pace.
Suppressing her unease, Josie maintains her stride, hoping she's imagining things. But the echoing steps persist, now deliberately matching her own.
Perhaps she has let her crime novel obsession get the better of her, allowing her imagination to run wild. This is likely an overreaction.
Still, an unsettling feeling gnaws at her.
Her grip on her wand tightens as her steps quicken. If the follower is a mere Muggle, she is defenseless, bound by frustratingly restrictive rules against using magic on them.
Caught in her thoughts, Josie's eyes catch an alleyway as she's about to pass it. Almost instantly, the echoing footsteps accelerate, and before she knows it, she's pushed into the alley, her back colliding with the cold brick.
A groan escapes her as her head makes contact with the unforgiving surface. The person responsible is evidently male. Reacting instinctively, Josie drives her knee upward with force.
