The sibilating bark of the Serpent Hounds made Enori want to stick her fingers in her ears, but dour Magda was watching, so she merely gritted her teeth and took a sip of syrupy wine. Her maid had been exceptionally sharp-tongued when she’d had returned from outside, with spring-green chess threading her hair and purple mud on her dress and hands. Now dry and re-clothed, her skin still felt raw from Magda’s scrubbing.
“Enori,” her mother said. “You must not wander past the sky shields. It’s not safe.”
Enori scowled. It rarely rained acid anymore.
(Written for The Prediction, 2nd entry. Challenge words: bark, chess, dry)