I left home on a moonlit night, broomstick in hand, Jiji on my shoulder, and a heart full of hope. Mom said every young witch must spend a year alone to grow into her power. I didn’t know what my ‘special skill’ was—flying felt obvious, but was it enough?

Now, Koriko stretches below me, a maze of rooftops and chimneys. My first delivery—a stuffed cat for a boy named Ket—should’ve been simple. But the wind caught me, tossed me into a forest where crows swarmed like shadows. I lost the toy. Jiji, ever dramatic, insisted he could stand in. ‘I’m practically identical!’ he said. So I knocked on Ursula’s door, the painter who lives with crows, praying she’d help.

She fixed the toy, and with Ket’s dog Jeff, I pulled off the switch. I should’ve felt proud. But all I felt was tired.

The next day, Tombo handed me an invitation to his aviation club. I wanted to go. But another delivery called. Then the storm hit. I flew through sheets of rain, soaked to the bone, and collapsed in bed. I missed everything.

Now, lying here, I can’t understand Jiji. And when I tried to fly this morning… I couldn’t.\n What do I do now?