A cornered rat will bite.  Amy realized what Brandish intended and reached out, a reflex.

Uh oh.

A weapon sprung into Brandish’s hand.  Not so dissimilar from the first weapon she’d made, an unrefined bludgeon of raw lightstuff.

Well, this is going all kinds of wrong.

She moved as if to parry the reaching hand and Amy scrambled back out of the way, eyes wide.

You do realize you’d fry her hand that way?

Where to go?  Brandish glanced to the rooms to the left, then down the hall in front of her.  She looked back and saw Amy with her back to the wall.  She moved toward the staircase, glanced back at Amy, and saw a reaction.  Fear.  Trepidation.

Well, that’s an answer, it seems.

Before Amy could protest, Brandish was heading up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“Carol!”  Amy shouted, scrambling up the stairs.  There was the sound of her falling on the stairs in her haste to follow,  “Stop!  Carol!  Mom!

And Amy finally calls Carol Mom right at this moment my heart

And Carol’s reaction isn’t gonna be any less painful, is it?

Only one door was still open.  Brandish entered the room and stopped.

She doesn’t. She doesn’t react.

I’m not sure if that’s less painful or more.

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