<div class="floatright">(http://i1288.photobucket.com/albums/b483/aliashappens/0N8A9809_zpsifuklnr2.jpg)</div><strong>Celia</strong>(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=240420.msg11857818#msg11857818)<br/><br/>The evasive sleep that she had found, somehow, had felt like more rest than she was used to. Even though she had struggled through the nights as of late, she felt rejuvinated each morning. And there was an energy within her that couldn't be explained. The morning chores that she had been delegated were a breeze. She felt stronger than usual, it made no sense. When she lifted the bales of hay to feed the horses, it felt like she had been toting the rope and nothing else. Her strength had gone supernatural on her, and she was too confused to accept that fact, or even test it.<br/><br/>Young Miss Patterson had a fire going in the wood stove, and a stew was simmering made of two butchered hares, a handful of turnips, a few carrots, and two sweet yellow onions that she'd diced. She had been nibbling at a chunk of bread that had been purchased from the baker earlier that morning. By now, the crust was stale and hard, but the soft innards of the loaf was heavenly. She was moistening the morsels in the stew as it cooked. Her good manners told her not to serve herself a bowl until the rest of the family returned from their trip.  'They are terribly late,' given her recent dreams, and the events around the town of Line's End, she was nervous for her father and her sister.<br/><br/>As she looked out of her westerly window, watching the crowd rabble toward the mayor's door, she had yet to light a candle inside. There was only a faint glow coming from the coals within the brazier at the pit of the stove. Still wearing her working clothes, dressed in a blue and white patterned blouse, a black vest made for a man, and a pair of trousers; Celia had yet to find time to change into her evening gown.<br/><br/>She studied the crowd briefly before deciding to go in to the street and see what the commotion was all about. 'Surely, the town hadn't decided to blame their mayor for all of the recent troubles.' Her mind was ill at ease.<br/><br/>She went to the stove, and closed the airways to the fire, not enough for the flame to extinguish, but enough to cool down the stove in her absence. She slid a pair of boots over her woolen stockings and made for the front door. On her way out, she reached for the shotgun that the family always kept loaded. She checked to see if the shells were inside anyway, opening the double-barreled chamber. Nodding her head, she concluded that the gun was, indeed, loaded and ready to kill. Celia reached for a few extra shells, four of them, and slipped them into the pocket of her vest. Leaving the chamber open to keep the weapon from discharging against her will, she reached for her worn black stetson. Sliding the hat over her disorderly blonde hair with her right hand, she rested the opened gun on her left wrist, and held the stock against her ribs with her arm.<br/><br/>It was the first time she had touched the weapon in over a week, it felt weightless in her hands. A shiver went from the base of her spine to the top of her neck. 'what in the hell is going on? Am I losing my mind?'<br/><br/>Not troubling herself too long in confusion, Celia left the house, and stepped down the stairs. She took careful small paces, trying her best to go unnoticed by the crowd. Her family had always been friendly with the mayor, and she didn't know what the town was so upset about this night. But, there was a small possibility that all of them could turn on her as well. She came up to the back of the mob and spoke to the first man that her voice could reach. "What's the fuss? Why's everyone up in arms and shouting?"