The Coven

She could hear them.

The shouts and yells were getting closer and closer as the angry mob marched toward her house. They carried all manner of scary objects. Ana shivered as she looked at them out of her bedroom window in the attic.

The crowd reached her front gate. Suddenly, an dark brown form rushed from the front door of her house, snarling. Ana gasped. "Grandmother!" The werecat charged the mob, scratching, hissing, and biting. Although she was large, she was old. The mob overwhelemed her, and she fell. Ana screamed as the mob chanted with victory.

Ana woke up. She could still hear the chanting of the mob. It seemed loud and clear. She moved over to the window of her first-floor bedroom and almost fainted. She had not imagined the chanting of the mob. A group of people from her town were outside her house, chanting. "Freaks Get Out! Freaks get out!"

She rushed to her parent's bedroom. Her mother and her father were already awake and packing. "Go wake your little brother and tell him to get his stuff together, and hurry." Her father's tail twitched as he angrily looked out the window. He mother sighed and fluttered her wings,giving Ana a look that made her do as she was told. Ana hurried out of the room.

Not Again. Why did this always have to happen? she thought as she got her most precious belongings together: the book of fairy tails her grandmother had always read to her; a stuffed ca; and of course, her butterfly, Alice, who was dosing on the flowers Ana had carefully arranged in a vase for her. Ana woke Alice with a whistle and proceded to packe her clothes. SHe would have to leave everything else. It was always like this; she had learned not to form an attachment to things. She grabbed a few photos and then hurried to join her parents.

Once they were all ready, her mother pulled out a wand and waved it. They all transported to a grassy clearing a country away. The clearing was surrounded by trees, and there was a small pond at one end. They always came here when they had to flee; then her mother would scry in the pond for a suitable place for them to live. This wa the seventh time they had moved.