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ŦĦ€ embroidery of roses in her hoodie of mauve color glistened in the dark of night just as the lights above did the day before. Thick clouds concealed the stars as do it the moon from men's eyes. The winds which rushed by were parky and it seemed it was going to pour.

She walked in the street called Ivea with a basket hanging from her arm containing a black dress that her aunt asked her to get from the seamstress. Unusually, darkness fell before she was sent to get it. Besides the funeral wouldn't comment till eight of the next morning.

She wore a strapped black dress which held on to chest and flowed all the way down to her feet. She wore sandals and so moving was relaxing - she needed it for she was traumatized by the site of Asimov's death and it was genuinely doleful. His body was left suspending on the River Kulpawn, his blood washing away. He had no wounds on his body yet he bled. It might have been a hectic struggle but his face in death said nothing of it.
His face was placid just like when he breathed.

He had asked her to bring a basket from the small hut in the forest where they restarted whenever they came hunting. Asimov had never sent her to fetch something during the times they had come hunting and so that was the first. His death had left a waterless pit full of sorrow  in her, and she didn't know how she was going to recover.

Walking on, she realized the sinister looks of bystanders, a few - mostly women - envying her blinding beauty. She felt her back gradually become heavy. Her heart pounded harder than ever and increased the pace at which she moved. She began suffering from fear and felt the need to run for people converged to her, something ominous in the silence. Instinct leaded.

"There's the witch, grab her!" A man with a thick voice shouted out. She turned to see if she was the one being referred to, and yes, she was. True, she was aware that most women envied her but apart from that, she had no problem with anybody and so she was shocked this was happening to her. People had torches of fire, stakes and rakes in their hand.

What she didn't take note of was a stone which was thrown at her. It ended up striking her forehead, blood oozing out as a result. She did not see it wise to ask any questions when her life was the stake, and so she took to her heels, stakes, rakes, torches and stones chasing after her. She ran as fast as her feet could take her but she stumbled and fell. In the fall, the cane manipulated into the basket she had, broke and punctured her right arm. She grunted ad groaned. She painfully ejected the piercing cane gnashing her teeth. But before she could figure a way of getting up, the mob had swarmed her.

"Witch!" A woman spat out. "She murdered her own father. Who knows, anyone could be next."

"Our little children will become this demon's lunch if she isn't dealt with." Another woman stated protectively pulling her almost five years old boy to herself. The child stared at her with great fear in his eyes. It shattered her.

Two men grabbed her aggressively from the ground, their claws creating marks on her skin.
"Please," she cried out,"I... I haven't done anything. Please let me go." She implored, fighting them for liberation but they fell on deaf ears to her urgent prayer; they strained her as she flailed herself.

The mob roared as with wine dinning that she be lynched. she didn't know where this opposition arose from so she was shocked, taken aback.
"This must all be a misunderstanding. Please listen to me." She explained trying to break free from their hold.
"This demon must taste her own venom." Women declared from the crowd.

Then suddenly a mount of carts and spinning wheels was lit up, streams of fire rising up to the heavens. She was startled by the explosion and adding to the fight only this time round in all the people, raging lightning. The deflagration and casting of the lightning were almost simultaneous.

Afraid of the ljghtning, she most definitely was, but losing her life terrified her even more and for that reason, saw the edge of the moment; she freed herself from the restraints of the men chasing her dear life.

"Get her before she gets away."
A man of the two screamed pointing at the fleeing hoodie. The mob pursued her with   ɠŘØŴŁŞ .