December 23rd, 1894 — Godric's Hollow
Still waking, she dreamed of crows. Hundreds upon hundreds of them-- so many they blacked out the sky and choked the cobblestones of a familiar street, and all flying the same winding way. Still waking she followed. Her mother's back was not turned for long, but Ariana had a knack for disappearing in the blink of an eye. In stockinged feet she padded down the streets of Godric's Hollow. The sight of her loose had become common, if still unnerving. Disheveled hair pale as falling snow and dazed eyes which barely turned if someone called out to her. She understood, in some distant way, why Mother wanted her tucked safe at home. It just made her skin itch to sit still for so long-- to ignore the flocks of shrieking birds that only she could see.
How long or how far she ambled, Ariana could not know. It was the birds who stopped. They perched on the posts of an old stone fence long overgrown, and on the shingles of a small cottage. The way the garden they brought Ariana too tangled and writhed, years gone untended, the place almost looked abandoned. Yet the crows croaked a gentle invitation, and Ariana-- not prone to her best reasoning nor her best manners when caught in the throes of a waking dream-- let herself through the garden gate.
How long or how far she ambled, Ariana could not know. It was the birds who stopped. They perched on the posts of an old stone fence long overgrown, and on the shingles of a small cottage. The way the garden they brought Ariana too tangled and writhed, years gone untended, the place almost looked abandoned. Yet the crows croaked a gentle invitation, and Ariana-- not prone to her best reasoning nor her best manners when caught in the throes of a waking dream-- let herself through the garden gate.
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