Forsaken by the one person who was supposed to love her unconditionally, Red must brave the magic and monsters of the Wylds to find her true place in the world.
*****
Plague...
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"You have to come try this!" Lady Midnight exclaimed, lifting her head from the table. Her eyes were bleary with satisfaction, though she clutched her stomach as if it caused her pain. Something sticky and red was smeared all over her fingers and cheeks. "This is the best Goddess-damned pie I've ever had in my life."
"Not a pie," the witch admonished the wyvern, stepping aside to fetch something from one of the scuffed iron cupboards in the kitchen. I suddenly had a full view of the kitchen bench. A metal tray sat in the middle of it, loaded with baked apple and berries, topped with a golden brown crust of butter, sugar and spices. "It's a crumble. An apple-berry crumble, to be specific."
"It's delicious, to be specific," Lady Midnight grumbled, resting her head in the circle of her arms again.
"That's why my sister wants the recipe so badly," the witch confessed, turning around with a bowl in hand. "I honestly thought you were another batch of thieves come to steal it from me, though they rarely make it so far through the gardens. You see, I told Edith she couldn't have the recipe until she stopped consorting with those lycans. It's unnatural, what they're doing in the Hidden Vale. I won't stand for it."
I blinked, utterly confused when the crone started cackling in my ear. The witch set the bowl down on the bench beside an array of metal prongs, and I felt heat crawl into my cheeks when I realised it was a set of cutlery, not torture devices. More variations of forks, knives and spoons than I knew what to do with, all fashioned from iron instead of the carved wood the Blood Moon Pack favoured. I'd never felt more stupid in my life.
"Come sit," the witch said, offering me a warm smile. "It's lucky you woke up when you did, otherwise I think Rana here would have eaten it all. She already polished off the lasagna I made for dinner, and I cooked enough for leftovers."
I froze, eyes spearing to the wyvern. She didn't so much as stir in reaction to the use of her real name, though I could have sworn I heard her breath hitch in a quiet snore. She must have trusted the witch a great deal, to share both her name and a meal before taking a daring nap in her presence.
My own nerves were not so easily settled, however. I took a moment to assess my surroundings, taking note of potential exits and weapons. Despite the long bench that doubled as a dining table, the kitchen was cramped and windowless. A plethora of cast iron pots and pans hung from giant metal hooks in the ceiling, only breaking rank to accommodate the large vent presiding over the stove. The kitchen was the only space in the house where the iron finishings gleamed; I presumed that tapestries were a bit of a fire hazard where cooking was concerned.
In my peripheral vision, vague shapes and lines formed the likeness of an adjoining sitting area, with two plush armchairs angled towards a roaring fireplace. There were no windows to be found and the chute that funneled smoke away was too narrow to climb through, but there was a door directly opposite the hearth. The slits at eye level matched the ones I'd seen on the front door when I'd first come marching up the cobblestone path.
"Where are the others?" I demanded to know, edging towards the set of pokers by the fireplace. Another, darker thought brought bile to the back of my throat. "Which of them are you eating right now?"
The witch wrinkled her nose. "Where on earth did you get that idea?"
"How about the fact that your house is an oven?" I snapped, edging closer to the pokers. Just another few steps, and one would be within reach of my trembling fingers.
"I get cold easily," she scoffed. "Besides, I'm vegetarian. I have no interest in eating anyone, your friends or otherwise."
Vegetarian. The word was beyond the scope of my understanding, no doubt from some ancient language the witch used to cast her spells. I reached for my arrowhead out of habit, heart sinking when I realised it was no longer there to ward my thoughts from fear. There was only the patch of embroidery, which I clutched even tighter in my fist.
The witch's eyes latched onto it. "Where did you get that?"
"Your Grandma," I guessed, from the two armchairs in the sitting room. "She seems to think you're bad news."
"My..." the witch trailed off with a frown, before her finely tapered brows shot up in understanding. "Oh! What did she say, exactly?"
My plan was working. She was utterly distracted by our conversation as I angled my body, hiding the hand that reached for the iron poker. "She told me to hurry and find my friends, or there would be nothing left for me."
To my surprise, the witch burst out laughing. My fingers closed around a warm metal rod as she clutched her stomach and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Ah, She has a wicked sense of humour. That wasn't my grandmother you were talking to, child. It was the Earth Mother. And I'm willing to bet She was telling you to hurry or you'd miss out on the food."
The witch spoke of the crone with a strange blend of familiarity and reverence, bringing to mind the respect the lycans afforded Nya. I'd never heard of any deities beyond her, but I supposed it made sense that if there was a Goddess for the Night, there'd be a Goddess for the day, and other things beyond that. What was more baffling than the Earth Mother's existence was the thought she'd deigned to speak with me.
"I don't understand," I complained. "She said to find my friends before it's too late. She's only ever warned me away from danger before."
"Then I am truly sorry," the witch said, sobering immediately, "for the poor welcome you received at my hands. I had no idea She favoured you so. Please, take the rest of the crumble to your friends outside. The Kirin already ate half my apples, but the wolf refused to eat. No doubt you are both hungry, if you travelled as far as Rana said."
Be at ease, the crone sang, her voice rustling the pots and pans like a phantom breeze. The noise roused the wyvern from her sleep and the witch cocked her head, as if she could hear the voice, too. You are in the company of friends.
Tears welled in my eyes, even as my fingers relaxed around the metal poker. "I have never had friends before," I croaked, sinking to my knees. For so long I had been the sickly ward of the Blood Moon Pack, a burden, an obligation for other, stronger people to suffer.
"Well, now you have friends and pie," Rana declared, banging her fist on the table.
