“I don’t think this is the right way-"

‘No shit sherlock.’

Mimi winced at her familiar’s scolding as she continued down the dark, winding path. Shadows clung to every corner, haunting the little tailor with each timid step. It was supposed to be a simple delivery. Take the mended costumes by the square. It was so easy. She had walked the to the place a thousand times. Only, this was the first time Mimi dared to take the back streets to avoid the horror of the Saturnalia crowd. The unfamiliar territory spun her around til all bearings were lost. She was lost.

“Please Quincy, now’s not the best time.” She murmured, gripping the paper-bound package closer to her chest. These parts of town made her skin crawl. Nervously, green eyes flitted from one side of the street to the next, her speeding heart thrumming in her ears.

‘Are you serious? Now’s the perfect time! You got us lost! And now I’m going to be roasted alive and eaten as someone’s dinner!’

She could fell the stoat twist and turn dramatically in her pocket. It was times like these she wished her familiar was something stronger, braver, bigger- at least something that didn’t force Mimi to be act as protector for the both of them.

“I’m going to ask someone for help.”

‘You’re crazy. Don’t do it, Mimi! There’s creeps a’ plenty down here! They'll wear your skin like a face mask. ’

But it was too late. The tailor knew what she was: The eldest of three, a late magical bloomer, and a person so unnoticeable that she could easily become a shadow herself. Her life was destined to be plain and boring. Nothing ill could come her way. It simply wasn’t possible for plain, boring people to have great stories.

“E-excuse me. Can you direct me to the bonfire?”

Mimi’s voice was weak, frightened as she approached the first shadowy figure she spotted. A prick of tiny nails poking through fabric bit at her thigh. Maybe it was Quincy’s own fear- or that of her own- that she felt her heart skip a beat.

Perhaps this wasn’t a clever idea at all.