Trial

They each want to be chosen, but there can only be one.

         Handrel looked at the three women. 

         “You're sure?”  Each nodded.

         “There can only be one, you understand,” Handrel warned.

         No one yielded the floor.

         She shuffled back to her chair.  “Alright then:  go.”

         It began. They screamed and shrieked, grunted and groaned. Bones snapped, blood spilled.  When it was done, only one remained:  Rowan.

         She half-crawled, half-dragged herself to Handrel.

         “...I...am…worthy…” she breathed.

         Handrel placed her hand upon Rowan’s forehead.  “You are.  You'll be my apprentice, my familiar.”

         When she turned her, Rowan meowed loudly, arched her back, and then began to lick her black fur.