TITLE: The Seeker's Charm
Rose Woodman loved storms. Whether they blew in from the sea or down from the mountains rumored to rise beyond the forest, the result was the same: even the mightiest oaks bowed down. Not that Rose disliked the trees. She loved them too, but a power that could bend those ancient trunks, that could tear the sky apart revealing beautiful flashes of silver, who wouldn't admire that?
Everyone but me. She dragged her hand off the rattling shudders though her fingers itched to throw them wide and let the howling wind blow away the memory of her mother. It had hovered all day beside Aunt Mary's bed, growing stronger with each of her labored breathes until no one in the little farmhouse could breath easily.
Mary gasped again. A wrenching, suffocated sound.
Rose turned from the front window and ran to the bedroom door. She would get in. She'd take that thin hand and somehow pour her own strength into her aunt.
But as she reached the door, the midwife walked out wiping her gory hands with her splattered apron while muttering, "Ain't this a fitting night for the birth of a two-headed monst--"
Her pale eyes narrowed as she spotted Rose. "What are you doing? Shouldn't one such as you be out enjoyin' a night such as this? Or is it even more fun for you to lurk beside a childbed smelling the blood of the mess you've made?"