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Rated: 13+ · Prose · Supernatural · #2266385
Trace sees Zayda's healing talents in action.
I still can't believe it!

Trace watched as Zayda smoothed her hands over his sister's broken arm. Well, not broken any longer. He dragged his gaze up to Sofia's face and saw the streaks of dried tears beneath a radiant smile she aimed at the girl not much older than herself.

Zayda was a witch, but something told him she was not darkness, but light. She was a healer with a heart the size of the Grand Canyon.

He moved forward then, and his movements brought the looks of both girls.

"Look Trace. She fixed it. It doesn't hurt a bit now," his sister said, her smile showing off the two missing front teeth that she usually hid behind a serious face. The rare smile blinded him, holding him a moment in place.
When Zayda stood up, he shifted his gaze to her. Her eyes were wide with worry as she rubbed her hands together nervously.

"Sorry, I heard her crying... I came to help, that's all." she said with a small voice Trace could barely hear.

"What happened?" he croaked out looking from one girl to the other.

Sofia's smile faltered then vanished. Her eyes dipped low as she stared down at the ratty shoes on her feet. She wiped her hands over the rips of her old hand me down jeans.

"I'd better go." Zayda said moving past him before he could utter his thanks. His sister's demeanour had his heart thundering. He hadn't been there to protect her.

He glanced back quickly to see Zayda disappear around the side of the house, then he moved to gather his sister into his arms. "Are you okay, Little fish." he whispered into her hair.

"I am now... She helped."

"Zayda. Her name is Zayda," he said reverently as he savoured the feel of her name on his tongue.

"Zayda," Sofia repeated. A smile graced her lips briefly before a rumble in the house behind them had them both going ramrod straight.

Trace slipped his hand over his sister's and together they moved for the tree line behind their house. They would hide out there in amongst the trees playing and talking until the sun shifted and dinner was called. Then they would slink back and take their places at the table. Quiet and unobtrusive, until their father wandered off for the bar and his drink.

Word = 395.

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