The day following the start of the event opened with cloudy skies. Some still felt the gracious effect of the moon, but in Ravenclaw, there was unrest. Evelyn sensed it the moment she stepped outside her door. The helpers bowed to her in a very correct fashion, the warriors straightened up uncertainly, and whispered conversations spread like fog in the corridors. Some said the name Luna with reverence, others with hatred.
The courtyard still had pale streaks of the blood from the previous night. The stone paths had been cleaned, but red colour lingered in the cracks, like a memory that would not be washed away. Evelyn walked carefully across it, her coat touching the stones. Two young warriors walked past her, one of them inclining his head in a slight bow while the other looked away, his jaw tight. That one action hurt her more than any arrow. She had been selected, raised, and singled out in front of the group, and still, some turned away from her unashamed.
