Hara and the Witch

Chapter 6: Troll Blood Honey

Over the next few days it would be good to say the three planned, mapped out their route and devised even so much as what to pack... but no. Marigold kept as much to herself as before, Plim worked on becoming friends with the wild geese and Hara carefully removed the stitches from her ear. Her bruises had turned from dark purple to green, the edges tinged yellow and sickly looking, and most of her cuts had scabbed over nicely; her nose was a little crooked and still quite sore, but when the bandages were off and nothing else would bother her.

The puncture in her stomach was still a way off being healed, but Marigold had contrived a purplish paste she instructed Hara apply each morning and after that it didn't really hurt anymore; if it weren't for the bandages she could almost have forgotten it was there.

And then, despite the lack or organisation, the day to head out came and they were all miraculously all ready, bags packed and adventure faces on. Somehow they just knew, as if the adventure woke them that morning and made sure they were ready. Maybe it did.

They were perhaps not the oddest bunch of companions ever seen, but they certainly didn't appear to fit together in any obvious way: the dove, circling the air in ever faster loops, feathers bright one second and then fading to woodland greens the next in an endless loop, a small satchel hung over one wing that was obviously too heavy for her, although she tried to cover it up; the woman, her cheeks as green as her hair, face covered in old bruises, a bag over each shoulder and sunflowers and forget me nots embroidered along the hems of her shirt and trousers, clothing given to her, without a word, by the witch; finally the witch herself, a small satchel complimenting the black skirt and blouse she wore, tall black boots and an equally tall hat, finished off by the broom clutched in her hand.

'Well,' Marigold said, catching Plim on the end of her broom just as the bird over balanced midair and began to fall, 'I think if we go- what are you doing?'

No one spoke.

'Hara.' Hara turned, surprised to hear her name spoken. 'What are you doing?' Marigold repeated.

'These,' Hara explained, returning to them with her arms full of flowers, 'will be an excellent way to mark our path through the forest. And until then-' she neatly wove a minute crown which she placed atop Plim's head, offering it in exchange for the bag '-we can use them to decorate ourselves.' She placed a rose on the brim of Marigold's hat and smiled.

'But we're not going to the forest,' Marigold said, taking off her hat to examine the flower before putting it back on her head without a word.

Hara actually gasped and stood stock still. 'Ahh!? What? Of course we're going to the forest, the whole reason-'

'I thought it was obvious,' Plim said. Again Hara gasped. 'We've got to get provisions before going back in there.'

'It was very much not obvious!' Hara cried, trying to catch up with her departing companions, the forest retreating behind them and her, unthinkably, walking away from it. 'And we've got provisions!' She hefted her bags, trying to stand in front of them, but Plim and Marigold just went around her. 'We don't need supplies!'

'We do,' Plim laughed, coming to land on Hara's shoulder and pecking her fondly.

'You need more than a bag of food if you're going to stand a chance in the Bluebell Woods. This time you've got to be prepared.' Marigold blew a speck of dirt from her broom handle and eyed the roll of bandage Hara had just pulled from one of the bags. 'A bandage isn't going to make me rethink this.'

'Then what did you pack, if you're so clever?' Hara muttered, realising (with the aid of Plim's beak) that she sounded like a three year old.

Marigold, emotionless but for a momentary eye roll that Hara was too busy moping to notice, pulled a jar full of glittering, yellow stuff from her bag. 'This.'