Elmina the Giant

chapter 0: witch mother

"Old friends are we?" Her tone low with resentment.

"I understand-." He tried to appeal to her but was cut off.

"Don't try to charm me with your words. You cannot trick me."

"I didn't come here to trick you. I just want to be able to see and take a seat." He took a hand to his lower back. He wasn't sure if witches could see in the dark but just in case he made a pained expressed. "If time affects us all, then you should know that I am much older than I used to be. The trudge in the woods has left my back aching."

Her movements ceased and he waited for her response. The silence lingered.

A small pinch of panic rose in him. He fought back the idea of him failing and having to face his people without answers or a solution. But the sound of a match stick being struck relieved him.

The witch lit a single oil lamp that hung low from the ceiling. In the small warm glow of the light only a chair and table were visible. He made his way to it and took his seat.

"You happy?" She asked from the safety of her darkness.

"I am content." He wondered how far he could take this. "However, I wanted to see your face." He reconsidered his wording carefully. "I need to look into your eyes."

He could feel her wicked smile in the darkness. "You and I want the same thing."

She stepped forth into the light to reveal herself. The witch was short and round, with silver gray hair and a terribly wrinkled face with bags under her cloudy gray eyes. She wore a black dress with pearl white knickers underneath and had no shoes on her overgrown thick yellow toe-nailed feet.

Upon looking at his old friend, a painful ache stirred in his belly and slowly made its way to his chest. Winslow would never admit that he was caught off guard. Thankfully he had enough experience to resist physically showing surprise. However, it wasn't her appearance that made his chest twist in pain. It was the sudden realization of how many years had gone by since they last saw each other.

His eyes glassed over as his mind reeled with memories of his friend; before she was stolen away by the Moon Givers and return, forever changed.

The sound of her steps moving closer snapped him back into reality; back to the task at hand.

She took a seat opposite of him and began to look directly into his eyes with suspicion. At least magic hadn't diluted her defiant nature. He fought back a smile, keeping his face still with a determined yet inviting look on his face.

"Now, tell me, what have you done here." His beryl eyes twinkled in the soft orange glow of the lamp.

"I could ask you the same thing." Her eyes shrunk into slits of doubt.

He wondered, if not her, then whom. The answer to that question being unknown made him a uneasy. He shifted in his seat with ease. The witch noticed all evidence of his ailment seemed to have left him. Now that he was getting what he wanted he no longer needed to hide behind a lie.

"Are you alluding to this being the workings of someone else?" He asked.

Her cloudy gray gaze shifted low to her lap. Her hands clenched her black dress in frustration. Her eyes unfocused but appeared to be staring beyond. She didn't want to tell him anything. She didn't want to give him what he wanted. She hated feeling helpless. But what else was she to do?

In her hesitation, his mind was filled with questions. Not all of them pertained to the matter at hand. He was too old to be wishing they had reunited on different terms or had more time. He shooed away the thoughts of them being different people and wondering what-if's. He thought, if only magic hadn't ruin things we'd still-.