Hara and the Witch

Chapter 17: Hara Returns Home

'Well... quests do tend to have some surprises,' Marigold offered, watching Hara's stony face as she marched towards the village.

'Mere was a surprise. That stick in my gut was a surprise.'

'The storm,' Plim added helpfully.

'The STORM,' Hara agreed, 'was a SURPRISE. Turning up at my home is not a surprise.'

'We don't have to visit,' Marigold said, looking hurriedly skywards as Plim scoffed. 'But isn't this where we were... heading?'

'Yes!' Hara said grudgingly. 'But I thought it would take a week or two, not twenty minutes of walking! I needed time to prepare myself for... this.' She looked onwards uncomfortably. 'But no. We have to visit. I may be iffy on fate, but something led us here today and no quester - no good quester-' she fist-wing bumped Plim '-turns from a difficult situation. It would be unthinkable.'

The witch quirked an eyebrow but said nothing as they continued along, Hara's face set and Plim clearly trying to contain her excitement.

Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, delicate, barely there wisps that balked at the prospect of rain and thunderstorms. Indeed the sky was a picture of innocence, presenting a perfect picture of ideal weather for walking OR flying.

As they neared the village, Plim stopped flying loops and landed on Hara's shoulder, unsettled by the gloomy, dull houses that lay ahead; they were so different from Marigold's village, but to Hara that wasn't ominous. She had always wanted to leave, yes, but still she loved her home; the earthen tones of the bricks and mortar was not the sunny paint of other homes, but it was what was inside that really mattered, how each person decorated and lived and the stories their homes told. The houses were simple, soft structures, built for exactly their purpose: to live in. They weren't flashy and perhaps they weren't beautiful, either, but Hara felt an old comfort spark within her as she cast her eyes over them.

'Welcome to Enclose,' she said, gesturing to the grassy path that led through the village, houses dotted on either side. Marigold felt something, walking into this place, but she didn't know what it meant, what it wanted from her, so in silence she looked around, following closely behind Hara who was pointing out things to Plim.

Marigold was distracted by the lack of flowers, the green path they walked along really the only plant life in sight. She also found the quiet vaguely concerning, although Hara didn't appear to notice; still, there didn't seem to be a single person in sight and that had to be odd.

'Hara, where is everyone?'

Hara looked around, seeming slightly surprised, although judging by her expression Plim had been wondering the same thing.

'Same as Reginald, of course. Trading day.' Grinning she shook her had and crouched to look at something on the ground, giving Marigold and Plim ample time to exchange a look of disbelief, confusion and hesitance.

Plim had just taken it upon herself to ask Hara if they might all please run as fast as possible and never return to this decidedly creepy place when she and Marigold both caught sight of a figure. It was ominous, haunting, a strange, slow moving being watching them from afar, the only being in the middle of the ominous, haunting, slow moving village. Certainly they didn't intend to, but before they know it both Plim and Marigold are screaming.

Hara leapt to her feet in a flash, sword swinging high before her, investigations forgotten. Plim, encouraged by the confidence of her partner, flew into the air and moved her wings like the graceful weapons they were, claws ready. Marigold, heart slamming within her chest, twirled her broom like a staff and thrusted it out before her. Neither Hara or Plim noticed, but the broom crackled with energy, sparks running along the soft twigs and flashing into the air, blue and gold and darting magic.