Peace is the brief quiet between two storms.
~Proverb from the Low Countries, 14th century
***
Ravenna's heart thundered from shock, dread, and disbelief, all at once. The earlier occurrence sent a tremendous wave of emotions she couldn't bear naming eliciting a pale expression.
Ser Jorah supported her body from the floor, but the silver-haired was too paralyzed to notice. "Milady, are you alright?" His voice rose in concern as he aided her, looking in the direction the girl vanished into.
Edhira took after him, quickly blending her presence, and her voice, heavy with concern and shock, said, "M-Milady, we should head back to the manor,"
But Ravenna was too full of emotions to comprehend. "W-What was that?" she whispered, half audible, half controlled.
Never in her entire life has she witnessed anything like that deformed shape and disappear into something in the blink of an eye.
