Third Person point of view
The house sat at the edge of the clearing like it had always been there. Not large. Stone walls, dark wood framing, a chimney pushing a thin line of smoke up into the pale sky.
The garden out front had seen better days, the plants growing sideways, the soil cracked in places, the kind of overgrown that came from a family too busy fighting each other to tend to anything else.
Helen had been standing behind the same thick tree for long enough that her legs had started to ache.
She had not moved. And she would not move yet.
She was far enough that anyone glancing out the window would not catch her. Not close enough to be noticed. But close enough to see the door, the windows, the faint shapes of movement behind the curtains. She had been watching for a while now, piecing together what she knew.
Sonita's mother was a sorceress. There were sorceresses in that house. She did not want them to find out she was nearby.
