"Good." Caris said, setting the third cup in front of Sparrow. It was an earthy brown colour, with a scrawled pattern in red glaze and a red rim. It had no handle, so Sparrow used the ends of her sleeves to hold the hot cup in her hands. The fragrant tea made her feel sleepy, and she wondered if Caris was a witch, like those in the tales her father used to tell her, casting a spell on them all. A nice witch, obviously, but tricksy, like all witches. Sparrow looked at Caris with her black layered dress and wild dark hair pulled back by a flowing red scarf. Caris caught her looking and raised an eyebrow. Sparrow ducked her head over her tea and took a sip. The tea tasted like a summer afternoon, warm and lazy, with a hint of thunder.
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