She twirled the charm in her fingers, the cold, silver web glinting in the candlelight. There was something comforting about wearing it, as though it was a part of her. Though she'd only had it for an hour or so, if she looked now and it wasn't there, she feared an emptiness like before. Lara had told her to take it off repeatedly. "Anything that father of yours sends is a curse!" She'd say, but Camille had denied the statement and fled to the caravan with her necklace still hanging around her neck. She cursed Lara and the others. Her beloved father was not a curse, it was horrible to say such things! A gift sent by him wasn't rare, but when it was a mummified frog, or a weird charm that was probably owned by a witch at some point, she wasn't massively pleased; grateful, but not pleased. This however was beautiful, and full of thought, it even came with a letter: To my little Camille for your 13th birthday, here is a necklace I saw at market a while back. The pretty little dream catcher charm made me think of you, and how far you'll fly one day, just like your mother. I know it's been a very long time, but I promise that when I have the money to travel, I'll come and get you. Remember, to catch your dreams you must chase them! He'd promised this time. Soon enough she'd be out of this dump and travelling across the land with her dear father, someone from her real family, it wouldn't be long now.  Her sodden dress squeaked as she struggled her way out of it, kicking her shoes off in the process. She'd be sleeping with wet hair tonight, the fact she had to sleep in a vest was cruel enough. She slid under the covers as gently as possible, the wooden slats that held the mattress up had snapped long before Camille inherited it. If she slumped onto the bed too hard, she'd go straight through. Taking one last look at the wooden caravan, her eyes trailed the room, from her wooden trunk in the corner, to the circus poster pinned to the wall. Many of the adults didn't have their own rooms, even so, Camille got privileges as the only child on site. She could understand why some of the more forward ones like old Tom would protest because of this, and appreciated it despite the wear and tear. As she blew the candle out, she snuggled down cautiously under the blankets, still clutching her pendant as tightly as she could. A curse, she thought, what a stupid idea.