"I still can't believe you lost HB's broomstick, Millie!" Maud sighed, staring out of the pane less window.
The girls had been recounting the events of the day, when Mildred had not only repeated history and crashed and broken her own broom, but had also 'borrowed' Miss Hardbroom's, in an attempt to rescue Tabby from the roof. Mildred knew that she should never have flown in such stormy and windy weather, but she loved her little cat more than anything. It didn't matter to her that she had smashed her own broom, for she had never before felt as relieved and happy as she had when she landed safely with Tabby in her arms. That was until a vicious gust of wind had carried her teacher's precious broomstick over Walker's Gate and off in to the storm.
"You'll be in deep, deep trouble when she gets back" said Enid, interrupting Mildred's thoughts.
"What?" asked Mildred, "Where's she gone?"
"With Miss Fluxweed," Enid stated, "I saw them leave just after supper."
"Well that explains nothing," Maud muttered sarcastically.
"Fluxweed's lending her a broom isn't she?" said Enid, "She's probably taken HB to go get it..."
"Yes but, from where?" Mildred pondered aloud.
"Her house, obviously," Enid rolled her eyes, "She has a house. You don't honestly think that teachers live here all their lives do you?"
"Enid, how on earth do you end up knowing this stuff?" said Maud, looking in disbelief as her friend just shrugged.
"Here we are!"
Constance stood very still for a moment, breathing deeply as she tried to rid her head of the dizziness she had experienced from flying and landing far too quickly. She looked around wildly, an odd feeling passing through her feet as she began to walk across the grass towards the little brick house.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Rocky called out as she fumbled with a rather large silver key.
"Perfectly fine," Constance muttered, despite wondering why on earth she had ever agreed to this. She hated racing brooms almost as much as she hated the idea of not having a broom at all.
Rocky just laughed. "Come on," she said, opening the house's rather small door, "I'll get you a drink"
Being taller than the other witch, Constance had to duck slightly as they entered the house. Once inside, however, she noticed that the kitchen alone seemed bigger than the entire house had looked from the outside. It was clearly a rather magical house. There were several large stone steps down from the door, and Constance guessed that the house must be partly underground. The room was tidy, but perhaps a little too tidy, for it looked as though nobody had been there in quite some time.
Before they had even had a chance to hang up their cloaks on the pegs beside the stone steps, a loud screeching sound filled the room. Constance instinctively shielded her ears and looked around in alarm, whereas Rocky just continued to put away her cloak and broom.
"It's me!" she called out loudly, "Get in here, you noisy bird!"
With that, the noise stopped. A flash of orange and blue flames, and then a tall, magnificent bird with shining golden feathers materialised, perching on the kitchen counter. At the sight of the bird, Constance immediately forgot that she had felt slightly nauseous. She was deeply transfixed by the creature.
"So beautiful," she whispered, still staring at those shining feathers, knowing that the bird must be an incredibly rare species.
"She's part-phoenix," said Rocky, smiling as she allowed the bird to jump up onto her hand, "I call her Ally"
Constance stepped forward, extending a hand towards the bird. "Can I-"
The bird screeched again, extending her long elegant wings and fluttering up onto Rocky's shoulder.
"She's a bit defensive," Rocky smiled apologetically, struggling to coax the flapping bird down again, "Ally, it's alright, she's safe; she's a friend!"
The bird's eyes were distrusting, and she flew up to the top of the cupboard, out of their reach.
Rocky sighed impatiently.
"She'll come to you eventually, I suppose. Have a seat, I'll make some tea."
"I didn't know you had a bird," Constance commented, sitting down at the kitchen table.
"Well, I tried to bring her to the castle with me but she seems to like it better here," said Rocky, "I come back every few days to see her..."
"Perhaps she doesn't like to be around all those cats," Constance speculated, "Especially considering how badly behaved some of them are"
Rocky nodded, knowing exactly which mischievous cat her colleague had in mind.
"Have you thought up a punishment yet?" asked Rocky as she joined Constance at the table with the cups of tea.
"No," Constance sniffed and shook her head, "I'm much too – you know they don't even make blackthorn brooms anymore?" She sighed, scowling at her teacup for a moment, "I do appreciate you lending me your spare broom it's just that... it won't be the same"
Rocky patted her colleague's shoulder gently as she went to fetch the broom.
The air was very still that evening. There was no wind, very little clouds, and it was not particularly cold.
The return journey towards Cackle's was not as pleasant as it should have been, as both witches were very uneasy. Constance struggled to get the hang of flying a racing broom; even if it was an older model, it was not at all like the traditional broom she was used to. She began to think that there was clear reasoning behind Rocky's uncomfortable-looking flying technique; these brooms certainly did not balance well. Although Rocky had agreed to fly more slowly this time, Constance still lagged behind her, silently cursing the unpredictability of her new broomstick.
Rocky drifted through the darkening sky, bored with the lack of height and speed. She kept shooting glancing back to her colleague, occasionally noticing an uncharacteristic nervous quiver and wondering briefly whether she should be concerned for her safety. Shaking off a fleeting urge to just leave her and fly away, she decided instead to cast an inconspicuous spell to help.
Constance noticed the subtle spell but she didn't say anything against it. She wanted nothing more than to be safely home at the Academy, for the darkness was beginning to play tricks on her; for a moment she could have sworn that the trees were chanting.