Millie sat up with a start at the shriek of her best friend, powerless to do anything but watch her fall unceremoniously on her backside. For a moment, a look of sheer terror crossed her face. It was more shock than anything else, in the next second the young witch was already starting to feel the grip loose from her chest, though her fingers stayed on the necklace at her throat until she heard the tinkling laughter that turned into howls.

Yes, Anne was going to be all right.

"This book isn't even about that kind of fun," Millie grumbled for a moment, putting her hands down to trace the etching of the spine instead. The latest Mister Daubney novel had turned into an exercise of patience for her, in fact. Either this book wasn't as good as the rest, or she was starting to fall out of love with the character and his odd-mannered approach to solving intense mysteries, most of which turned out to be only knuckle-deep. "It's..."

Millie squealed and held the book up to shield herself from Anne's splashing, more mud than water by now. Then she stared in horror, genuine this time, at what she had done to the cover of her book. One drop had even made it past the spine to the pages, and she made it even worse by trying to wipe it away, feeling the grit slip between pages that would no doubt need cleaning later.

She stared up at her friend with a hapless expression, knowing well that the damage was already done, and that Anne might possibly be the worst person in the world to give sympathy for it. As Millie wondered how she could even be friends with such a literary heathen, the thought itself made a giggle burst from her throat. Then another.

And then there was nothing stopping the young witch from devolving into a fit of laughter just like Anne had a few moments ago, though for entirely different reasons. Who said she wasn't having fun?

---