Little Witch Emmaline

Little Girls

Walking in conflicted, lonely circles, a short girl wandered through the blizzard as it made its way down and around the icy trees. Said trees did little to shield the girl from the biting wind. Giving it all she had not to cry (in fear that her tears would freeze against her already pale skin,) she found it harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

"I'm not used to this..." her weak voice cracked. Her sister had thrown her out, into the cold.

"GO THINK ON WHO YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE! THEN YOU CAN RETURN!"

The tears began and the child hurriedly wiped them away with trembling fingers. She was sent out to find whoever she was supposed to be.

Emmaline Gethen was the only person the girl knew to be herself.

"Emmaline..." The mist escaping her lips became more and more faint as she spoke and the night went on. Tears only continued to well and drip slowly down the hollow cheeks. Ice and wind went on to lash at the girl as her thin, bony legs lead her down the steep hill. An unseen, frosted root caught her foot, landing her face first in the snow that scraped and cut her cheeks and hands. The eight year old whimpered as she pushed herself slowly to her shivering feet. They had gone numb miles ago.

Her face, fingers, knees, and feet were chilled and red. Briskly the wind carried on, fighting against her as she feebly made her slow way.

Still, she repelled the sleep that she knew would definitely snuff her life and take it away. But the girl's eyes could only stay open so long, and she soon found herself falling asleep in the winter's floor.

The cold still haunted her in her restless dreams. The wind still pelted the fading senses and the tips of her body clambered up through her, freezing every part. Tears stopped. The shivering came to an end.

Without warning, a slow warmth began melt through her. With the last drip of consciousness she had, Emmaline felt it must be the end and accepted it.

Blackness, but more and more warmth. Wavering red filled her eyelids and she slowly opened them. The red was a dancing flame in a large fireplace. Gasping, she tried to scoot away, but found herself covered in a thick, wool blanket.

"You're alive! Amma, she's alive!" a girl's voice rang loudly from behind her. Emmaline struggled and turned to see who the voice belonged to. A rather round girl with beaming blue eyes was staring down. This girl's hair fell in wavy, snowy golden locks around her shoulders. Emmaline's own night shaded chocolate eyes were widened in fright.

"Oh, no, no, no! Don't be afraid, meyla!" The round girl said, sitting a few feet from Emmaline, who tried to shy away and back up.

"I found you in holt, where were you going, meyla?"

"Who are you!?" The courage to speak up rather startled the two girls as she spoke.

"My name is Aurora Thu Burton." Aurora said softly. The fear that surrounded her like the earlier snow welled up but Emmaline managed to mutter out, "Emmaline Gethen..." Aurora's eyes lit up, "What a pretty name!" She whipped around to look at the doorways, "Amma? She's alive!"

An uncomfortable silence ensued until a very old looking woman hobbled into the room, squinting around. Poor eyes meeting saddened eyes, the old woman hobbled forward towards Emmaline, who turned to avert her failing gaze.

"Meyla..." She started to speak in a language that Emmaline didn't know. Aurora stared at her before turning to her grandmother and speaking in the same language. They spoke for quite some time before this new girl turned with her grandmother to Emmaline.