Jane Jago’s Daily Drabble – Three Hundred and Twenty-Four

Maire was sitting quietly watching the darting forms of the iridescent blue dragonflies as they skimmed the slow-moving waters of the lazy little stream.

Of a sudden, the dragonflies scattered and the sound of marching feet and stamping hooves came to the girl’s ears.

She slipped into the undergrowth, then climbed into the concealing branches of a venerable oak tree.

The witchfinder passed within two manlengths of her hiding place, but his long nose never so much as twitched.

Marie made a sour face. The fools passed her by and wasted their steel on harmless old fools with cats…. 

©️jj 2019

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