The Fickle Winds of Autumn

The determined echoes of Sister Amelia Constance’s footsteps bounded along the dim corridors of the convent.

They beat in time to the sombre tones of the great Passing Bell, which had been ringing out its mournful code all morning.

The news about the witch attack couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient time - didn’t she already have enough to do without chasing after lazy young novicella lying ill in their beds?This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

At least she had managed a brief breakfast.

But honestly! Why should it be the responsibility of the Prima Sister?

Couldn’t one of the other nuns perform this duty?

What was this world coming to when a humble and uncomplaining Sister Superior, like her, couldn’t go about with her own business without such unwelcome distractions?

And how typical of that girl Kira to go missing!

Only ever thinking of herself, that one.

Leaving the rest of them with no peace - not knowing what to think - if the girl were alive or dead - the selfish little madam - giving them all such a scare.

She had always been such an inconsiderate child!

Hadn’t she always known that such a wretched nuisance would come to no good?

And the Surrounder had given her enough good sense to always be right about these things.

At least the other novicellae had the decency to be properly dead.

They would cause no further worries - everyone knew for certain that they were now safely reposing in the arms of the Great Surrounder.

But not that girl Kira!

She had insisted on going missing - probably in order to deliberately cause as much fuss and difficulty as possible.

Hadn’t she had her marked down from a very early age as a problematic troublemaker?

It was a shame that honest sisters, like herself, had to endure the likes of such a girl, in order to prove themselves all the more worthy of the Surrounder’s great blessings.

Her tongue tutted a constant barrage of scorn as her boots clacked impatiently along the cloister.

She approached Amber’s door, pushed it open, and bustled into the gloomy room.

“I have some bad news,” she announced abruptly, “there was an attack on the Ceremony at the Grove, and …”

She glared at the bed.

The sick novicella did not appear to be there.

Her sharpened eyes scanned the rest of the small chamber - but it was also unoccupied.

Her full bulk bristled as she advanced towards the bed and threw back the covers.

No, the child was definitely not where she ought to have been.

Her gimlet eyes flashed around the room again.

But if the girl was not there, then where, in the Surrounder’s good name, could she be?

Perhaps the girl was feeling better and had snuck off to try and pilfer some food from the refectory?

Well, there would be no stealing taking place while she was in charge.

That was the trouble with young girls these days - they simply could not be relied upon to remain in their rightful places.

And if it were truly part of the Surrounder’s divine plan to go shifting ungrateful novicellae about the place, surely the least he could do would be to consult her, his most humble and obedient servant, on the matter first.

What was needed was to instil more disciple into these selfish wretches - and she had more than a few good ideas about how to set about that task.

That would stop these little miscreants from thinking that the world revolved around them.

“Woe betide that girl when I catch up with her!” Sister Amelia snorted to herself, and she stomped off to locate the errant postulant.