Like the moon went through a cycle again and again, so did her magic. Another witch might have become frustrated by the constant waxing and waning of power, but for her it was a comforting process. A sort of reminder that this power had not been hers to begin with, and she could not expect to have full control over it at all times.
That didn't change the fact that she never felt more alive than during a full moon. The magic was more alive then too, and she could feel it calling out to her, a call to run wild.
The mortals in the area never quite figured out why their forest grew so much thicker, wilder, filled with more life during each full moon.
But their imaginations ran just as wild.
YOU ARE READING
Tiny Stories Part 2
Short StoryMy second collection of microfiction, sometimes dealing with the mundane, but mostly dealing with the magical. Unlike the first collection, the stories in this one are based on inktober prompts.
