Alexandra watched as the crowd of potential customers quickly dispersed. It seemed the sheriff's presence was enough to halt any potential business in this town.
"Mr. Clayton, your council independently sought a list of available Weavers and unanimously voted to request my transfer. It was my understanding that the town wanted me here. So why, might I ask, are you all now objecting to my presence?"
"Ms. Grey, every town in this country is required to have at least one licensed and registered Weaver residing within its borders, and this town is no exception. If not for the law, you wouldn't be here."
His words were sharp and his tone bitter, and if they had been used on a less experienced Weaver, they might have intimidated. Instead, they simply offended.
"Have you always liked being a brunette?" she suddenly asked.
"What?"
"Your hair, do you dye it?"
"No, I--what?"
"I was born a Weaver, Mr. Clayton. The same as you were born with that brown hair of yours. Do you realize what a heavy burden it is? The glares, the accusations, the mistrust from adults...it's difficult when you're young. I used to dream of losing my magic so that I could finally be friends with the other children in the neighborhood. I might be a Weaver, but it's not as though I'm not human." She squared her shoulders and smiled confidently before adding, "Now my dream is to help others with my talents. I'm not here to sow the seeds of chaos."
This freewrite is part of an ongoing story using this week's prompts. If you would like to read the beginning of the story, you can use the following links:
As always, thanks go out to @mariannewest for providing the prompt! Today's prompt can be found here.
Image sourced from Pixabay.