Six

A trifling ripple in the surface of the lake made her smile. It felt much different than the strained smile she usually carried.

Aanya watched her with a spirited smile.

It was a blithe Saturday afternoon. The hum of the students dimmed in the backdrop. The virescent grass below was as soft as fur, so were their hearts.

      "It might be a grindylow," Aanya offered.

The mere thought about the repulsive green creatures with small teeth and horns made Astraea wince in disdain.

      "Or merpeople," She offered in return.

A more aggravating image. Aanya shook her head in response, whirling around to spare another glance at the unsettled ripple on the surface of the lake.

A fleeting moment of silence transcended between them. Astraea reached for the picnic basket, selecting a scone. She took a small bite into it, savoring the rich flavour of cream that was succored alongside the scone, a decision furthered by Aanya.

As the taste of butter softened in her tongue, she was carried back to a doting recollection from childhood.

 A lovely field blessed with countless amounts of thistles, swaying immaculately in the gentle breeze. Walburga watched her children as they raced down the field, giddy with laughter. Her mother's face was radiant, as ardent as the sunshine. With a hand held up to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun and the other on her hips, she called out to them to take a break. Scones, sandwiches, and pies expected them on the mat laid under the shade of a hawthorn tree.

      She recalled bounding into her mother's arms.

Those were gentler times. No expectations saddled them then. They were simply children, far beyond the malignant reach of the growing reach of darkness. Astraea used to laugh heartily then, her only worry then was of catching that vibrantly coloured butterfly, volitant above the alluring field of thistles.

      "Let it fly, Astraea, let it be free. No one likes being trapped," Sirius would say, watching her.

She would be wary as she let the butterfly go.

Freedom was scarce, almost an arcane dream. She couldn't hold down a creature with wings.

Aanya's voice drew her from the saturnine memory. Her dusky brown eyes were touched with concern as she lightly touched her arm. Her touch was warm, filling her with a yearning for a home, a sense of familiarity.

      "Are you feeling fine?" She inquired.

      With you, always. "Yes, I am." She replied, offering her a comforting smile.

      "You scared me there for a moment," Aanya sighed.

The conversation drifted to something whimsical, laden with eased laughter.

       For a moment, the sound of her laughter felt familiar. 

A calm gust of wind blew across the grounds, causing a leaf to leisurely fall into the crystalline surface of the lake, almost like falling in love.