[center][color=335566][h2]Анна[/h2][/color]

Anya didn't trust her, she didn't like any of what was going on. Her whimpering continued, and she stayed where she was, standing still, ready to dash again, she had met preditors before, and the woman's change in tone did nothing but keep her distant. Once more she withdrew another smaller bottle from her coat clutching onto it as if she was ready to throw it at either of them should they inch nearer. The young woman didn't wish to get anywhere near the woman. Instead, her mind was working to connect the dots between the woman and the man she swore she had once known. [@Dark Light]

[color=335566]"ведьма!"[/color][sub]witch![/sub] she called out poison in her words, as it was the only word she could describe the woman as. [/center]