How could a little boy be this fast?!
It wasn't just that he was fast. The Finnigan boy was reckless and crafty, sliding around corners and nearly losing her until she could veer back around them. Millie did her best to keep on his heel, everything pulling on her every resource short of another spell. Not in the corridors now, that wasn't allowed.
The young witch's reluctance earned her the sight of Finnigan disappearing from view. She blinked; one moment he was there and the next there was no trace of him. Doubling back to the corridor she had passed, Millie found it empty but for a suit of armor. Shadows curtained the sides of the hallway, leaving plenty of room for the boy's darker complexion to hide from her.
Wasn't Finnigan an Irish name? Millie pondered that for a moment, wondering how an Irish lad could grow as dark as this boy. He should have shone like an ivory statue in the dim light, a brilliant spotlight to her eyes. Perhaps he never ventured outside to turn pale like the cloudy skies and pearly snow. Maybe he stuck his head too close to the fire and it burnt the Irish flame-red hair right out of him. It would complement him well, she decided, when she held his feet to that flame.
Millie ran a thumb along the back of her necklace, opening her palm to inspect the candy she had taken from the boy.
A sharp intake of air startled her, and the young witch was surprised to hear that it was her own. The sound of the incantation shook her composure, jerking Millie's attention to its source like a hand from a hot iron. She let out a giggle, and wondered what about this was so amusing. Nerves, perhaps, or anticipation. There! She spied the boy hiding in the gloom, grateful that his spell had failed, and her body squirmed as another giggle ushered forth from her mouth.
Then another.
The young witch was overcome with a fit of giggles, echoing out from the stubby hallway, wiggling this way and that from an unyielding tickling. She gaped at the boy, her lips quivering with the unending giggles. Millie struggled to regain her senses, laughter overwhelming her instead of thoughts for the counter-charm. Tickles erupted all over her body, and she could hardly bear it, laughing harder while her lungs strained to keep up.
She put her hand to the side of the wall, steadying herself. The young witch concentrated, trying to form words or aim her wand. Nothing would come out right, nor would her wand hand stay steady. Millie simply couldn't escape the effect of the charm long enough to counter it, much less keep the Finnigan boy from besting her at last.
On the bright side, Millie was too busy laughing to be disappointed about it all.
It wasn't just that he was fast. The Finnigan boy was reckless and crafty, sliding around corners and nearly losing her until she could veer back around them. Millie did her best to keep on his heel, everything pulling on her every resource short of another spell. Not in the corridors now, that wasn't allowed.
The young witch's reluctance earned her the sight of Finnigan disappearing from view. She blinked; one moment he was there and the next there was no trace of him. Doubling back to the corridor she had passed, Millie found it empty but for a suit of armor. Shadows curtained the sides of the hallway, leaving plenty of room for the boy's darker complexion to hide from her.
Wasn't Finnigan an Irish name? Millie pondered that for a moment, wondering how an Irish lad could grow as dark as this boy. He should have shone like an ivory statue in the dim light, a brilliant spotlight to her eyes. Perhaps he never ventured outside to turn pale like the cloudy skies and pearly snow. Maybe he stuck his head too close to the fire and it burnt the Irish flame-red hair right out of him. It would complement him well, she decided, when she held his feet to that flame.
Millie ran a thumb along the back of her necklace, opening her palm to inspect the candy she had taken from the boy.
A sharp intake of air startled her, and the young witch was surprised to hear that it was her own. The sound of the incantation shook her composure, jerking Millie's attention to its source like a hand from a hot iron. She let out a giggle, and wondered what about this was so amusing. Nerves, perhaps, or anticipation. There! She spied the boy hiding in the gloom, grateful that his spell had failed, and her body squirmed as another giggle ushered forth from her mouth.
Then another.
The young witch was overcome with a fit of giggles, echoing out from the stubby hallway, wiggling this way and that from an unyielding tickling. She gaped at the boy, her lips quivering with the unending giggles. Millie struggled to regain her senses, laughter overwhelming her instead of thoughts for the counter-charm. Tickles erupted all over her body, and she could hardly bear it, laughing harder while her lungs strained to keep up.
She put her hand to the side of the wall, steadying herself. The young witch concentrated, trying to form words or aim her wand. Nothing would come out right, nor would her wand hand stay steady. Millie simply couldn't escape the effect of the charm long enough to counter it, much less keep the Finnigan boy from besting her at last.
On the bright side, Millie was too busy laughing to be disappointed about it all.
![[Image: uHwnE8q.png]](https://i.imgur.com/uHwnE8q.png)