e last read The Twenty-First Chapter, in which the widow was haunted by her past—and a protection spell was put in place. If you have recently joined us, start with The Prologue.
Sometimes one must collect oneself when the pieces go scattering about.
Such was Séverine’s intent when she walked to the convent one morning. Free from the stimulations of society, Séverine was able once more to experience the stimulations of her own mind, and they were all too disquieting. Beneath her skin, she felt a mild panic that could not be soothed—a sort of anxious energy coursing through her body. This feeling was not unfamiliar, for Séverine was sensitive in nature and any stimulation, excessive or otherwise could contribute to a greater sense of her unease.
We are well aware that all who read these words do not experience the world in this way—and we do not fancy ourselves expert in such matters. But perhaps we might, at the very least, explain to the reader that which is felt so strongly by those more empathic in nature.
That morning Séverine felt something akin to the feeling one gets after a great scare, perhaps a frightening experience or a near brush with death. Such an experience might leave one feeling shaken or disturbed. In fact, it may take a moment, or a great many of them, to regain one's composure and calm one's nerves after such an arduous ordeal.
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