Tired Doll

“who... was that?” it was only half a second, and the cracks distorted the image, but that wasn't her reflection. strange.

she frowns at the mirror, willing it to open and let her see again, but it doesn't budge. after losing a staring contest to her reflection, she crouches with a sigh, and carves an arrow on the floor with the blade from her belt. she's been here before, she knows that this place will have her going in circles, so she may as well keep track. y'know, for research.

and so the Witch strode into the maze, following her own arrows, her flawless self-assuredness only slightly dinged by that strange reflection.

“who was that?”