Dust clouds rose up in the air as her feet pounded into the ground. Shouts were coming from around her, but with the adrenaline in her veins and her own loud gasps for the next breath of air, she couldn't make out what was being said.

She knew the general intent, though.

The staff in her hand hummed with power, its red orb expressing irritation at being bounced about so. She couldn't help it, and did her best to calm the object down. Such was the legacy she had been left.

Her father had been a god, but her human mother's talent for sorcery had attracted the man. Mitika didn't remember her father clearly - bits of memory here and there - since his duty as a god had often prevented him from staying with them.

White-and-gold boots touched grass that was still wet from the morning dew. Turning left out of town, Mitika headed toward a nearby forest, hoping the trek would discourage the others from following.

It didn't.

A large boulder stood in her way, but a whisper of words, and her rod's power annihilated it.

The staff had been in her family for countless generations. Her mother had resided in this same town Mitika was now escaping from. Mitika remembered her mother bowing over their large wooden table, pouring magic and power recently gained into the staff, as her mother had done before her. It was the way of their family line; each sorceress spent her life gaining power, turning it over to the staff, which in turn, was passed down the family line.

The dark forest tore at her brown cloak, and her long brown ponytail got caught in a bit of ivy for a minute.

The villagers' torches lit up the forest, and Mitika said a quick enchantment to protect the forest from catching fire. It would be a pity if the villagers' rage destroyed such a beautiful gift of nature.

Mitika now realized she should have followed her mother's reclusive ways. When her mother had passed and Mitika had inherited the magical staff, she had decided to use her magic for good and assist the villagers - her once-neighbors and friends - in any way possible.

However, while the others had realized that Mitika had special powers, they attributed only bad happenings to her. A child dies of scarlet fever? Mitika must have poisoned him. A well goes dry? Mitika must have enchanted it. They never once realized the good she was doing or her efforts to combat the bad.

After a particularly long and difficult drought, the villagers had gotten fed up, and decided to capture "the witch" and burn her. Luckily, Mitika had awoken early that morning to gather some herbs, and had seen their approach.

Diving through a waterfall and into a small cave behind it, Mitika wiped damp hair out of her eyes. Steadying her breath, she huddled her knees close to her chest, and hoped they would pass without discovering her.

Quad ref
CI by raichu
Art by raichu
Story by twocents
Profile layout by Revenge, coded by raichu