She could run.
Eva couldn’t. The girl had never shared anything about what happened, only her obvious lack of eyes and constant use of gloves told the tale. Something happened to her feet as well, though it was less obvious. She had offhandedly mentioned being unable to run once.
Yet it wasn’t something that Irene would do. She wasn’t cruel and Eva seemed to have done nothing wrong. Shalise returned without any apparent injuries and they got along fine.
She was just… creepy.
Irene kept up her stride, even though slowing would have been more comfortable for the girl. They walked almost to the entrance.
Eva stopped.
Irene continued for three more paces before she stopped too.
The girl had her head tilted to one side. Her hair–that really needed a trim, in Irene’s opinion–hung off the side of her head all the way down to her waist. She took a step forwards. Then another step. With a third and forth step, she moved just past Irene. Her head was tilted all the while.
“Eva?”
“That bull is back.”
Irene glanced out the nearest window. The snow had melted off for a day but returned in full force the first week of February.
Nothing was out the window but snow.
After sighing, Irene rubbed one of her temples. “Are you sure you’re not making it up?” The thought had crossed her mind almost every time Eva ‘saw’ the cow.
Eva frowned, looking back to Irene. “Pretty sure. Sometimes it is hard to tell.”
“Well,” Irene sighed. She didn’t want to get involved. “I’ve got a report to write. You probably do too. I think I’ll just–”
“It’s on the roof this time.”
“Bull. It is definitely a bull.”
“How do you even know?”
“Same answer I gave about your arm.”
“Wait,” Eva said, “it is moving.”
“Moving where?”
Eva ran, or hobbled, straight to the window. She stumbled part way, but managed to catch herself on the window ledge. “It is right up there, looking down.”
Even pressing her face against the glass, Irene couldn’t see anything. “Eva, shouldn’t we just get Professor Twillie and leave it at that?”
“It’s coming,” was Irene’s only warning.
Snow flew in front of the window as a heavy thud rattled the glass.
A massive bull covered in black fur absorbed the shock of the fall. Its knobby little legs straightened to their full height. Even on four legs, the bull rose over Irene’s head.
Irene fell backwards, landing on her butt. She crab-walked backwards until she was in the middle of the hall.
Eva all but pressed her face against the glass. “It is there, right? I’m not just imagining it? Your heart rate has skyrocketed.”
It was all Irene could do to mumble out an answer. She wasn’t entirely sure what that answer was, but it was an answer.
“What does it look like?”
“I thought you could see,” Irene snapped in a brief moment of sanity.
Eva crossed her arms. “I can’t see very well.” It almost sounded like a pout.
The bull snorted out a steamy breath, fogging the glass up. It turned and spread its massive wings. With a few flaps, it was gone.
Eva’s shoulders drooped, but she walked over to Irene and offered her a hand.
For the second time that day, Irene pulled herself to her feet with Eva’s help. At least this time she didn’t have a massive gash in her arm.
“Well?” Eva had her hands on her hips.
“Well what?”
“What did it look like?”
“It was a bull.”
“Yes.”
“A huge one.”
“I know.”
“It had wings.”
“I could see that much. Tell me something I couldn’t see.”
“I don’t know what else you want. It had a crumpled horn? It was big? It breathed out steam?”
Eva shrugged. “Everything breathes out steam in the winter.”
Irene didn’t have an argument for that. “What do we do?”
“What do you mean?” Eva tilted her head to one side.
“We have to tell someone, right?”
“Of course. You have to tell our friends so they know I’m not crazy.”
Irene flicked her forehead. Eva stumbled back half a step. “I mean a teacher or someone.”
Eva shrugged again. “We already told Bradley Twillie and Zoe Baxter. They said they’d look into it.”
“That was a month and a half ago.”
Eva turned back to the window, sending hair flying behind her. “They never said they were good at looking into things.”
That was true. There were at least three questions she’d asked Professor Baxter about magical theory that the teacher had never gotten back to her on.
“We should remind them at least,” Irene said.
“You do that. School is almost over and I have to get ready for Franklin Kines’ combat class.”
There was a bit of an edge in the way Eva groaned out his name. “You don’t like it?”
“The worst.”
— — —
“There are rules for magic,” Zoe Baxter said.
It was the opening line of one of her fourth year lectures. There are obvious rules and rules that are less obvious.
