The effects of the calming drought were slowly wearing off. Aglaya had been in a daze for the past two hours, now she was lying on the bed in her hotel room, alone. The necromantically animated dove and the letter had disturbed her so much that she had been unable to compete today. She had been administered a potion for the nerves and her mother had informed the officials that she withdrew from the competition. It had all come unexpectedly; during her morning practice she had still been determined to win the national title once again. Now her cousin was surely going to take home the trophy and rumours about her withdrawal were going to spread wildly.
As far as she was aware, her mother had made some excuse that she was suffering from a fever but even so people were bound to talk. After all, she had performed the day before. She had done relatively well, finishing just one point below her cousin. The national championships were generally the qualifying event for the world championships and, therefore, the second most important event of the season. Missing out on this was not good but it was as it was. Her family was bound to try and get her on the team anyway but that, again, would only give her more unwanted publicity.
She stared at the ceiling, feeling, like so often, that she wasn’t in charge of her own life. There was a little stain right above her which looked as though someone had squashed an insect there. While this would usually have gone unnoticed by her, Aglaya now felt uncomfortable. She turned her head to the side, the remainders of the dead insect reminding her too much of the blood flecked dove again. She didn’t feel like doing anything, didn’t want to think about anything but her mind kept wandering back to the events of this morning, the package, the dove, the letter...
She focused on brown lines she spotted in the corner of the room by the window, it was probably old water damage. The floral tapestry was a little wavy there, too, and Aglaya tried to distract herself by thinking about where the leakage was. Now that she focused on it, she found that the whole room smelled a little mouldy. Her thoughts drifted off again.
The letter had been written in blood. Her pulse quickened and she heard the ticking of the alarm clock on the nightstand which was slower than her pulse.
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick. Her heart was beating twice as fast as the clock. While she hadn’t been aware of the noise a moment ago it now made her feel nervous, restless. She sat up in bed and checked the time. The competition was about to start.
Aglaya was still drowsy and had no intention of going to the arena but suddenly she wanted nothing more than to go home, to leave before her family members would be back from the competition. Getting up, she pulled out her trunk from below the bed and opened it. Then she went into the bathroom to fetch her things from there. The tap was dripping.
Plop… plop… plop… Once she had collected her belongings from the bathroom, she slammed the door shut to block out the noise. She was relieved when she heard Branimir’s voice from outside her hotel room asking if she was okay. Apparently the slamming of the bathroom door had alarmed him. Although she felt anything but okay, Aglaya yelled “I’m fine,†back. At least she could be sure that Branimir would not allow anyone to enter her room whom he hadn’t checked properly.
The letter she had found in the box with the pigeon appeared in front of her inner eye like a ghost that couldn’t be shooed away.
Soon, but not yet. A shiver ran down her spine as she recalled the phrase. There was the threat that she’d meet her stalker and the prospect scared her more than she could express.
Packing her things half manually, half magically, Aglaya walked up and down her room, feeling in a hurry to get away from this place, this town that would be forever linked to the animated dead dove and that she knew she would never be able to appreciate again. She didn’t want to wait for the competition to end and for everyone to go back to Rybinsk together. However, before she had packed everything, a rhythmic knock on the door accompanied by Branimir clearing his voice interrupted her. Her face paled some more despite the fact that this was exactly the signal they had worked out for an unexpected but friendly person coming by.
“Who is there?†she asked, forcing her voice to carry through the closed door. Only now she became aware that she was still wearing her black training suit and hadn’t changed into normal clothes yet. It felt like it was the least of her problems, though; so, after getting a response from the corridor, she opened the door to face the unexpected visitor.
@Marisa Marchesi 
