The Artist And The Spectre

Chapter 8

Faint fingers of light weaved through the stars as Rowan shut the door behind her.

The pale yellow halo of twilight slowly creeped forward, heralded by a cacophony of trills and whistles from birds perched high above.
Rowan hiked her hood over her ears and slinked away like a thief in the night.

She'd been unable to sleep properly. The wee hours of the morning and the fresh air provided a much needed respite, away from the memory of her aunt's concerned eyes and the gentleness her uncle's rough hand on her cheek.
Rowan squeezed her eyelids shut and shook her head, shoving the shame and panic of those moments in some forgotten corner of her subconscious.
She trotted to the beach.

The ghostly threads spread further in the sky, snuffing out the delicate stars to make way for the coming dawn. 
Rowan couldn't say how long she'd been walking, only that she'd left the village behind. To her right only the infinite, textureless black of the sea, and sand that in the weak, cold light was an eerie ashen colour.

So lost was she in her contemplation she almost missed a familiar silhouette standing on the bank.

Charlie. She was slight, almost incorporeal if not for a proud mane of golden hair billowing behind her.
Her hands were clasped behind her back, her posture pristine as a ballerina's; yet the delicate curve of her neck drooped like a wilting flower as she looked out into the churning obsidian waters.

Charlie's whole being exhaled heavy, excruciating sadness. It was a cloud of smoke obscuring her eyes, slowly sapping air from the lungs. It was a ball and chain around her neck, its weight slowly sapping strength from her limbs, bowing her proud head.

Something in Rowan's heart resonated at the sight and ached keenly in sympathy.

The young artist approached, hovering a few steps behind. She tactfully cleared her throat before speaking.

"Hello."

Dark cerulean eyes stared back at her behind a curtain of gold hair.
Rowan waved at the other girl, awkwardly kicking some sand to the sea as she thought of what to say. 

"Hello! Ehm. Are you... alright?"

The other girl remained silent as a wraith.

"Look, I know it's probably none of my business; but if you're sad, well, I don't want you to be. Not that there's anything wrong with being sad," Rowan added, mentally cursing her clumsiness.

"It's just that I'd like to help, if I can. If you want me to."

Charlie's eyebrows shot up, surprise and confusion briefly overtaking the melancholy. The corners of her lips twitched up in a hint of her signature grin, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"My, my! You're one earnest soul, aren't you!" teased the long-haired girl.

The awkward teenager muttered something indecipherable, blushing under her hood. Charlie tensed and rushed to explain herself.

"Please don't be cross with me now, dear. Your kind words were most appreciated." 

For a moment her aristocratic features softened with gratitude, a warm smile lighting up her face before waning away as she gazed to the horizon again.
Charlie's eyes closed a moment, her chest rising in a deep sigh before gazing back to Rowan.

"I've always loved the morning," she begun, "when people are deep in slumber and the woods begin to stir. Alone in the dim light and the soft sounds, I used to feel like I could just... be."

She smiled to herself through half-lidded eyes.

"It was my own. My personal witching hour, if you will."

Rowan shifted her weight from one foot to the other, feeling a little self-conscious.
"Does me being here bother you, then?" 

Charlie shook her head.

"No. A kindred spirit's company is always welcome, even during my musings."

The short-haired girl felt a pleasant tension in her cheeks as her mouth curved upwards.
"Fair enough."

She thought a moment, then added: "If this is to be our witching hour, does that make us a coven?"

Charlie laughed, her intense blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Indeed. One most vile."

A companionable silence fell as they waited together for the come of dawn.
For the first time in a while, Rowan felt at peace.