𝕹𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖍
The sun disappeared early that afternoon. A parcel, hanging from Sinclair's curled fingers, gently swung as the girl made her way down to the lake. Talons gripped into her free arm tightly, gentle hooting beckoning her for another treat.
"Monty, I just fed you..." the gryffindor muttered. The breeze by the lake ruffled the owl's feathers and Sinclair's jet black hair as she made her way to her usual bench, and set down her parcel. Mr. Montague's feathers were soft against the back of her finger, and the bird's attempt at preening the girl's messy hair elicited a short huff of affection.
"Silly bird."
Sinclair set her pet down on the bench and turned her focus to the parcel. There were only two who'd send her parcels—her parents—so it was not unexpected. The cloth ribbon was undone with a firm tug and she lifted the lid of the box, the cardboard lightly fighting the current of the wind. Inside were four home-baked cupcakes, and upon them a message in frosting wrote: "Happy 13th B-day, dearie!" This was undoubtedly her father's handiwork. Sinclair lightly smiled at the faint scent of hazelnut and the sweet, personalised message. She chuckled, glancing toward Mr. Montague, "...Well done for keeping the frosting intact..."
A card seemed to be attached to the lid, and after carefully prying off the sticky-tape, Sinclair opened the envelope.
Our Dear Sinclair,
Happy Birthday, kiddo! You're turning 13 this year, officially a teenager. Mum will send you a little accessory for your birthday later this week, but for now enjoy your cupcakes with your friends. If there isn't enough, send me a letter and I'll make some more. Ta!
Love from Mum and Dad.
Sinclair looked towards her only companion, then to the four cupcakes in silence. "...Well, Monty, which one do you want?" She muttered, knowing that Monty wouldn't be interested in any of them. She picked up a cupcake, unwrapped it, and ate quietly as she shut her eyes. Tree leaves rustled, and the gentle gust of wind from Monty's silent flight tickled her cheek.
