Hocus Pocus: Rising of a Little Witch

Chapter 12: The torch.

Winifred let out a low growl. As she stood up, water drops made their way down the end of her nose. They then presumed to fall down upon her dress, as if it wasn't wet enough already.
Mary and Sarah bolted in.
I stayed on the edge of the loft, waiting silently for Winifred to collect her wits. Slowly, she looked around, as if looking for something. Mary and Sarah helped her up. As I climbed down, Mary wrapped her in a towel.

"My book," hissed Winifred. "Where is my book?"

The book had fallen and landed near the sheets that I slept on. I picked it up and I took it to her. She accepted and collected it in her arms. She began rocking it as if it were a child.
"Book," she cooed, hugging it to her. She looked at me with big eyes.
"And you," she said in a low, somewhat aggressive voice.

Sarah grabbed hold of Mary.

I gulped.
"Yes?" I asked. I prayed she wouldn't hit me.

"You...art not so bad after all," she finally finished.

Slowly, I began to loosen my tensed muscles. I had been sure that she was going to hit me. The fact that she was headed opposite of that thought was relieving.

"Well," I said slowly. "I thank thee."

Mary came over and looked at me quizzically. She had her head tilted, her tongue sticking out, as if she was trying to read me.
"I hath never heard of such a thing, Winnie," she said.

Winifred bore her front teeth, pressing them down on her bottom lip.
"What?" she asked, irritated, per usual.

"A witch that can smell fire," Mary said, making her way over to me. She picked up my arm and examined my skin. She ran her fingers over my features and my jawline. I stood, a little creeped out. My skin tingled as her finger made its way down the bridge of my nose. What exactly was she doing? Was she really this much of a hands-on person?
"I can't seem to figure her out, Winnie."

Winifred looked annoyed.
"Thou dost not need to explore her!" she barked.
"We shall find things out as we progress in the magic process," she said, rolling her eyes.
Winifred then crossed the room and set her book on the stand.
"Such a good book," she said softly. She then whirled around quickly. She looked straight at me.
"Thou must learn how to control magic and hath more practice with it. Then, if thou is ready, I personally shall teach thee to fly."
I smiled.
Truthfully, I loved every part of being a witch, although I have only experienced very little of it. I couldn't wait to fly with the Sanderson's. I wanted nothing more.
    The only thing I was sure about was that I could smell fire, and from miles away. I hope that wold be a good asset to Winifred. I have no idea why, but I felt obligated to please her. Perhaps it was because she was the eldest.
    I was much too tired to think about magic at the moment, so I decided to take a nap.
   However, just as I was about to lay down, my foot stepped on my soaking wet sheets. I shook my head, and balled them up in my hands and walked outside with them. They didn't have a clothesline, so I had to hang them on tree branches.
   I started scrounging for something to do as I circled the cottage. Mary and Sarah were helping Winifred get dried off enough so she would be comfortable. I had no idea what we were going to do about the wetness of the cottage floor. I suspected that Winifred had a spell that could dry it; Winifred had a spell for everything.
I took a seat at the small table. Candles burned on it tranquilly. I sighed and leaned back. I watched as Sarah, Mary and Winifred pondered what to do.    Perhaps I could do something. I had the magic, I just didn't know how to use it yet. I knew that I would have to rely on the Sanderson sisters at all costs to teach me.

"I wonder what set the fire," Winifred stated quietly, inspecting every candle that was on the first floor.

"I don't know, Winnie," Sarah replied, examining everything.
    I sighed and walked back outside. I knew that I had just come in, but I loved being out in nature. I never was allowed out much when I still lived with Carl and Jennifer. They were no longer my parents. At least, I didn't consider them my parents anymore. I walked outside once more, the cool November breeze hitting my skin.
    I began to unintentionally make my way around the back of the house. I had just rounded the corner, when the smell of gasoline stung my nostrils. I paused, and began to sniff. It was coming from the west. I followed it.
    The smell led me about two miles into the woods. It was stronger with every step I took. Soon, it was so strong that I had to pinch my nose shut. It was almost gagging me. I was standing in a circle of pine trees, with a group of huge boulders piled to my left. I started exploring the area. Suddenly, my toe stubbed something. I reached down and grabbed it.
   It was a torch. The end was soaked with gasoline and smoke simmered off of it. This had to be what started the fire. However, a torch couldn't light something by itself . Someone had to do the work. But who? No one in Salem even knew that the Sanderson's were even alive. And no one could've known we hadn't been home. Although I couldn't picture a suspect, I knew one thing.

Someone had tried to destroy the cottage.