Willow

“Come on, Tia! Wake up!” Brindle cried, shaking her older sister vigorously. “The fire is coming.”

Tia had collapsed a moment ago when the smoke overwhelmed her. The fire began at their village, claimed half the Elves residing there, and was now threatening the ancient willow tree housing the source of their magic. Tia was their priestess and the villagers’ only hope.

Brindle was no priestess! She wasn’t anything! She could not even cast a simple wind spell. The one time Brindle tried she conjured a tornado, in a densely forested region where such things did not exist, that ran-sacked their tree-house and left Brindle on detention.

Now Brindle was alone under the willow with an enormous blaze crawling towards her, consuming everything in its path.

Brindle shook her sister again. “Tia! I need you!”

Tears began to stream down Brindle’s face, leaving track marks on her ash covered face.

What to do? She thought to herself. I am not Tia.

Brindle sat back on her heels and brushed back her short, tawny and black, cropped hair that was her namesake. With a heavy sigh she grabbed the hand span thick spell book from where it had fallen at Tia’s feet.

Frantically flipping through silver lined pages Brindle found the incantation Tia had started before she collapsed. With a deep breath she closed her eyes and focused on the words she must say. All her energy poured into the incantation. The forest was lost, but they thought to at least protect the ancient willow.

As the magic coursed through her Brindle realized her mistake a moment too late.

She had meant to say seajda for shield, but instead said seadva for rain.

Brindle began to laugh uncontrollably as a torrential downpour drowned the blaze surrounding the ancient willow.