"What's happening?" I grasped a handful of autumn leaves, which had fallen before the winter snow buried them. In my hands, the leaves smoldered and burst into flames.
Golden flames billowed up my arms and danced in shimmering waves off my skin. I was on fire! My shriek echoed off the hills and the dead trees as surreal terror consumed me like the fire.
The mud on my legs dried to hard baked clay and flaked off onto the ground. I tried to run. The snow sizzled around me and melted into streams of water with every step I took. I swatted at the fire enveloping me like a warm bath. I brushed the last of the flames from my hands and arms. I expected to see burned flesh, but my milky white skin glistened like the snow. I was warm, but not charred and, somehow, the scrapes on my knees and neck had healed.
I held my hands up and searched each finger one by one.
There was something wrong with me. Fire had spewed from my hands, and I wasn't burnt. If the superstitious witch knew what happened, she would suspect demonic power. "What sort of creature am I?" My hoarse whisper was thick with dread.
I shoveled snow over the warm ground to hide the evidence of my fiery outburst. My red fingers and toes ached for warmth again. The deep winter snow covered my feet and frost coated my eyelashes. I bit my lip and tucked my fingers under my arms next to my ribs. What if I didn't have to suffer? What if I could summon a little fire, just to keep my fingers and toes from freezing? The cottage curtains were still drawn. I pressed my ear to the door. Hazella snored deeply.
No one cared about me. If I was going to survive I would have to look after myself. I stiffened my lip and clenched my hands until my knuckles turned white. "I'll show her. I'm going to live!"
I grasped a fistful of leaves. Flames burst to life and danced in my hands. This wasn't normal. Fire was supposed to destroy whatever it touched—not heal. The flames skittered up my arms in showers of golden sparks. I tightened my jaw. What if I really was a witch like Hazella? What if Hazella was right and we were sisters of power?
My breath quickened. No. No matter what I was, I would never be like Hazella. I had to keep this power a secret until I discovered what was wrong with me.
The wood slab barricading the door scraped open. I dispersed the flames, checked for any traces of ash, and faked a shiver. The door swung open.
I slumped my shoulders, keeping my arms around myself, and I hobbled inside toward my bed. I didn't dare turn and look at the witch for fear my expression would betray my secret. I leaped behind the woodpile onto the straw and threw the blanket around my shoulders.
Hazella pulled a red-hot knife from the fire and demanded, "Give me yer frozen feet."
The old witch kept a jar of black fingers and toes on her shelf of potion ingredients. The jar was empty now, and obviously, she planned on harvesting more from me. I screamed and tucked my feet under my body.
Hazella snatched my right leg.
"No!" I shrieked and jerked away.
Hazella grabbed me and wrestled me to the ground.
I kicked and writhed. The heat of the knife brushed my leg as Hazella gripped my foot. "No!" I sobbed.
The witch released my leg. I pushed myself into the dark corner, tucked my knees to my chest, and covered my toes with my straining hands. Warm tears rolled down my cheeks and hit the dirt floor. "Please," I begged, "don't cut my toes off."
Hazella pointed the red knife at me. "Yer toes aren't frozen. How'd ye stay warm, girl?"
I wiped my face on my sleeve and thought fast. "Chimney," I muttered.
"Yer lyin'." Hazella dropped the knife in a bucket of water. The water sizzled as the knife landed with a thud at the bottom. Hazella raised one eyebrow, distorting her already hideous features. She leaned close and sniffed the air.
I quietly tested the air too but could only smell Hazella's bad breath.
"Yer not covered in ash, but yer smellin' like smoke," Hazella mumbled. She kicked the bucket of water and turned the dirt floor into mud.
I repressed a smile that would've landed me back out in the cold. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, and my skin grew hot. I pressed my palms together to keep the fire of triumph from erupting out of my hands. I had finally gained a victory over Hazella.
Follow The Watchers On Your Favorite Social Media:Amazon:https://amzn.to/2Ap8ZqIBlog:http://www.astorybookworld.com/Website:http://www.knightess.com/Adventures:https://www.HerEden.com/Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/DeirdraEdenWatchers/MeWehttps://mewe.com/i/deirdraedenGab: https://gab.com/DeirdraEdenParler: https://parler.com/profile/DeirdraEden/postYouTube: https://youtube.com/c/DeirdraEdenTheWatchersInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/deirdraeden/BookBub:https://www.bookbub.com/authors/deirdra-edenPinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/deirdraeden/Twitter:https://twitter.com/KnightessHopeGoodreads:https://www.goodreads.com/deirdraedenBooklikes:http://knightess.booklikes.com/
YOU ARE READING
The Watchers Book 1: Knight of Light
Teen Fiction"The Watchers" are supernatural beings in human form, charged with protecting mankind from the armies of darkness. Unfortunately, some of these Watchers go bad. Deirdra Eden's The Watcher's Series is written in a traditional fairytale style with a...
