 Jupiter's Satellite
73.) Warn
Second year. Whomping Willow. October.
 The wind was blowing incessantly. How bothersome.
I resolutely refused to move or let a single branch sway. At least the birds were smarter than the wind. They knew I wouldn’t bend and let them make nests and happy little homes in my hair.
Then the girl appeared, jauntily skipping along. Annoying.
Sigh.
What did students not understand about the “Whomping” part of my name?
I shook out my leaves and attacked, knocking the girl to the ground. I bumped her along on my roots and flung her a good ten feet from my trunk. I hope she stays away.
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Last edited by sweetpinkpixie; 05-30-2017 at 12:48 PM.
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