Witch of the Woods

Draft 1

The Coven Elders letter crumpled in my hand. The parchment wrinkling in my fist, the ink fresh enough to still smudge.

"A Summons of Participation," it read, "-a call of service to the coven," a demand, as if I didn't already do enough for the coven, "-as an of-age member, without current quest, it is your duty and right to participate in the coming Heat Event, to produce the next line of witches and wizards." A business transaction, they didn't care whether or not I was in love, or whether I wanted to have kids yet. For the record, I did want kids. I wanted a family of my own with every fiber of my being. But I hadn't fallen in love yet, and I wasn't about to have kids with some mediocre jackass who didn't love or deserve me.

My anger manifested in the form of fire in my fingertips, incinerating the infernal page. I ran my other hand through my hair, my hands were shaking and I felt my throat close up with emotion. An overwhelming amount of anger and sadness. I wiped the tears that formed and shook myself off. If I had a quest, I wouldn't be called upon, so I just needed a quest. I'd heard of one in a northern village, I still had a month before the full moon and that was plenty of time to get there, accept the quest, and keep preoccupied until the Heat was finished.

I shoved my belongings into my pack, readying for travel. Normally I would've been a bit neater about packing but I was angry and in a hurry. When the knock came at my door, I was uninterested in answering, but to keep my room in the coven house, I needed to be civil.

I opened the door swiftly and my mood soured at the sight of Dirk. "Oh, Hi. Do you need something?" I asked, trying to keep the bite out of my tone.

"Hey Vanadey," his smarmy smile made my skin crawl, but I'm pretty sure he thinks he's attractive, "Was wondering if you'd gotten your summons for the Heat?"

"Unfortunately." I grit my teeth.

"Yeah, I don't have a partner yet either, so I was wondering if you'd want to partner together." He smirked, leaning against my doorframe, invading my personal space, being a creep.

"No, I'll have a quest before the Heat commences and won't be participating." I crossed my arms over my chest. He briefly glanced down at my cleavage and I nearly gagged, he made to protest but I quickly bid him farewell as I would be embarking on my journey shortly and need to finish packing, and then I slammed the door shut in his despicable face. I shuddered with disgust and continued packing with renewed fervor.

My backpack was filled with equipment, magical and non, for any sort of occasion. I had spelled my bag with limitless space and I could fit my entire room in it, if I wanted to. But I was trying to pack smart. I made sure my clothes were comfortable and practical: trousers, thick leather boots, a long sleeve peasant blouse, and my thick leather cloak with a hood. I put a few extra shirts and pants in my bag as well. Bag on my back, I pulled my hood up and quietly, almost sneakily, left the coven house to start my quest.

It would take me two days to reach the northern village and then I'd have my quest. Easy pea sy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not so. With a guise of an old woman I began my journey. Oh the struggle of finding a horse and carriage headed north was not something I had predicted or anticipated. However, a farmer in town was heading back to his farm with his son and offered to let me ride in the back of his wagon until they reached their destination. I'd have to walk further on foot. Which was fine, I was grateful for the offer and it would get me most of the way there. He talked about their crops, I gave very little detail about my life though he knew I was a witch, and we traveled mostly in comfortable silence. Upon arriving at his homestead, I offered him some gold coins. He declined but I felt uncomfortable not repaying his hospitality, so I blessed his lands and his animals, for good crops, chickens and cows. He was very grateful and his heavily pregnant wife cried and insisted on feeding me dinner. Who was I to say no to a pregnant woman? So I joined them for their meal before I headed onwards. Once I was a safe distance away from their farm, I dissolved my illusion of age.
Night was falling fast and the temperature dropped. I pulled my cloak tighter around me, keeping the chill of the cold out, I would not be able to get far in the dark, but I would carry on as long as I had moonlight. I would rest when it was safe and I had shelter.

It was difficult to pass the time, alone. I was lonely and the journey was long and arduous. I hummed to keep myself awake and fend off the loneliness. The crunch of twigs, leaves and gravel under my boots echoed in my ears, any sounds that didn't feel like normal nature sounds made my heart race, my palms sweaty and my hands shake.

When dawn broke over the mountain flooding the path with early morning light, I finally saw the village. The relief flooding through me was debilitating as all the exhaustion caught up and the tension left my muscles feeling weak, my feet ached something awful and I knew I would sleep the rest of today once I found an inn to rest.

I cast my old woman illusion before entering the town and kept it on until I was safely inside the bedroom of the inn. With the door closed and the single window shut, I took off my illusion and cast protection spells and wards around the room. I kicked off my boots at the end of the bed, hung my cloak on the coat rack and collapsed into the bed, pulling the soft quilt up around my head, burrowing in for warmth and comfort.

When I woke, it was dark, the sun had already set and I guess it to be around dinner time. The chill in the air made me want to stay in the warm bed, but my rumbling stomach told me I needed to eat. I cast my illusion again and went down to the tavern for a nice hot meal. The tavern keeper brought me a turkey leg and potato's and my stomach rumbled in appreciation, he chuckled heartily.

"Thank ye," I took the plate happily, my stomach growling loudly.

The bartender let out a chuckle, "Jus' 'appy that someone likes my cookin'..." he grinned. He was a large man, round from tasting his own cooking, with a large beard and a jolly face. He felt trustworthy and I wanted to let him know what I was. I summoned a napkin to my hand and dabbed at my face, keeping a keen eye on his expression. His shock was humorous. "A witch!" He gasped.

"I take it you don't see many?" I raised a grey eyebrow.

"No, ma'am, not in these parts." He whispered, his accent and the way he said "ma'am" sounded like "mum". "What brings ye up this way?"

"I'm here to take care of your villages problem." My fingers sparked, "Care to give me any information that'll help?"

"He's a demon, mum," he whispered, "Taken our young girls and sacrificing them for himself. No bodies been found, mum. But he terrorizes our poor village 'e does. Comes er'ry night. We've instituted a curfew, no one out after dark."

"I hope you don't mind, but as a traveler I'll be out past curfew," I snickered as I pushed my clean plate towards him.

"Be careful, mum, please." His worried look was endearing.

"Well, you said he only goes after pretty young things, right?" I winked, "good thing I don't look like a pretty young thing." His worry didn't diminish despite my joke.I sighed, "What's your name?"

"Harris, mum." He sighed.

"I promise not to be out too late, Harris, but I must investigate in order to stop whatever is going on." I put my hand on his and promised. He nodded and took my plate and I pulled my cloak up around my shoulders.

The paths were dimly lit with small bonfires, purposely to keep them safe for anyone breaking curfew. It also helped to keep the space between houses a little extra warm, helping me fight off the chill that crept around the edge of my cloak.

By the witching hour, I'd circled the village thrice and had yet to see any monster. Not a villager out of bed. All the pretty young things slept safely. Keeping my disguise up was draining and I was exhausted. I made my way back to the tavern and crept the stairs quietly to my room. Harris had left the candles lit for me, with a fresh warm blanket by my door, the sweet man.