The Ritual's Center
#8 of Flavor Text
A new commission from HaskilAnk over on FA: Check out their art here: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/haskilank/ . Story by myself!Alternate version here!
The cool of the night air went straight through Mallory's fur, sending a shiver down the tabby's spine. It had been pleasantly warm earlier in the day, but now that night had fallen the cat could see every breath she exhaled forming a cloud in front of her.
Or at least she had been before the blindfold went on.
Now though she could see nothing, say nothing, and move little. The only piece of clothing she'd been left with was her curly-tipped hat, the distinctive headdress marking her as a witch even if the ropes made her look more like a whore. They were important though, as much a piece of the ritual as the runes around her. Those symbols and sigils worked their magic, some to keep her safe, some to draw her energy, and some to signal far and wide that their end of the deal had been upheld.
The other witches in her coven had long since left by now, leaving Mallory alone with nothing but her thoughts and the chill breeze. She knew she was safe. Or at least, if everything was done right she'd be safe. If every mark and rune and tie was perfect then there was nothing to worry about. Not even the cold could hurt her, much less what they were contacting.
Still, she shifted around as much as the bonds would let her, wishing she hadn't drawn the short straw. But the veil between the worlds was thin tonight, and the deal needed to be kept. No matter how frigid it was.
Mallory's ears perked up. Had she heard something? She could have sworn... no, it must have been her imagination. The only thing here was the cold.
And whatever had just breathed a rush of hot air down her neck.