The Witch's Daughter

Part Four

 As Bathilde walked through the cold, rocky tunnel, the dripping water of the gnarled, fang-like stalactites reminded her of the whispering ivory of palace walls. Of her days among the giants, where she was the wisest woman in the room. Everyone called Bathilde "cute" or laughed at her, except for Princess Clotilda Hua-- that tall, stocky whirlwind of pale skin, black hair, and an Elizabethan emerald gown. She hardly seemed like a child, with that stiff way she'd been trained to stand, one red-clawed hand gripping the other like her life depended on it. She was like a massive Welsh-Chinese doll with her red-painted lips set firmly, her cheeks powdered pink, and small brown eyes devoid of all emotion.

"We should listen to Auntie Bathilde," the huge child said, nodding toward the plump little witch, "She'll teach us human ways, so we can all get along."

Human! Bathilde twitched at the memory. The Humble Blossom Palace was the last place she was considered that one-hundred-percent, full-blooded master of the universe. Here, on the soft green warmth of the island, she was proudly called "half-elf" or "elf". There was no such term as elf-human, but Bathilde's breath slowed at the idea. Her children, her own flesh and flood, hardly resembled her. Of course, Amma took the most after her, but they looked more human. Taller. Stronger. Less connected to the earth, sea, or fire. Funny, I should think this as they follow me through a cave! She snorted to herself. Maybe this is my way of telling them to slow down, to relax, to connect with their elfin side.... Of course, it will hit one faster than the others.

"I'd rather get a cactus colonoscopy," huffed Tiberius, wiping his brow, "Or listen to bluegrass than do this again!"

 "Hanh?" Amma asked. 

"I mean...isn't that what they call that music?"

"Sorry, but it's a little late to worry about music now."

"OK, Amma," Tiberius said, then sang in English, "Amun-Ra, Amun-Ra, I got fucked in the back of the cah...." He smirked. "No offense, but I wanna lighten the mood."

"If zis mood was any lighter, we'd go blind," Bathilde chuckled, "Especially with my head-lamp."

"I find caves fascinating," Amma went on, "Especially the ones underwater...do you think we can explore those for water-elves, Maman?"

"After zis, if we're not too tired."

"One thing at a time," Tiberius added, sipping his canteen, then flicked a spider away. "I own your soul, big boy!" 

When he cackled and wheezed this time, Bathilde elbowed his ribs until he stopped.

They moved further, until their muscles began to burn. Bathilde entered a small cave-room and sat on a chair-like bit of black-purple rock. The others followed suit, struggling to catch their breath. And how could they? The room was beautiful. Turquoise and pale-rose stalactites glimmered as clear drops splashed on the cracked ground. Tiberius' jaw almost dropped to his chest.

"Whoa!" he gasped.

Amma smiled as she collapsed into a stone chair. Her heart swirled with memories-- a shivering pinch of yesterday's laughter, a dollop of gra mo chroi-- as the sun set and she was left with a shorter path. She plucked an icy round cave-flower and tucked it behind her ear.  Why Ireland? Why am I thinking of that? Now? There was a cave there, right? And...!  She sighed, recalling Emmanuel's rage and the strange elf from her dreams. They were so different, yet so important to her. I wish I could shape-shift so I could make everyone happy.