The small witch was quiet as she watched him, her mind racing slightly. Those thoughts still swam at the back of her mind, still haunted her. What would he do with her? Should she try to run? The last question seemed to stick with her. Should she run? She knew once she was out in the open that she could fly, that she could grab her broom from behind her bag and never return to this place, but the storm outside seemed to become harsher, the lightning and thunder crashing loudly overhead. She was certain the winds would toss her around like a rag doll.<br/><br/>His rising voice caught her attention as she stood up quickly and moved away from the table, her eyes on him. The thought of running seemed more and more appealing now. "Two-hundred years ago, there was a fire, many of the town archives were lost...." She said quickly, her body inching towards that door slightly.