Wren
Wren had accepted the fact that he was being a tad creepy and hypocritical. He told the witch not to stalk him with her magic and now he was the one stalking her. He to make sure she didn't pose a threat to him. So far she had kept her promise to keep her magic to herself. It wasn't hard to follow her around. She didn't seem to have any survival instincts at all. She rambled through the woods all day, never checking her surroundings for danger. She took naps outside. He could almost guarantee that she didn't lock the doors to that fancy house.
He followed her into the forest and was almost disgusted by how oblivious she was. He didn't even try to step lightly and she never knew he was there. He watched her stop and chitter at squirrels. She crouched down and talked to rabbits. She sang along to the birds in the trees.
It was disgusting.
The first day he had spent a lot of time investigating the forest surrounding her house. He checked for traps or ensnarement. He found none. He checked the woods for any sign that she was malignant but the forest showed no signs of being occupied by evil. Magic had a way of influencing the world around it. Violence and evil can seep into the soil. It can poison the air.
This forest was thriving. The trees were tall and strong. The grass was clean, and flowers were starting to bloom. There were no traces of rot, no bloating corpses, or animals slowly dying.
The witch seemed to ooze goodness wherever she went. Her forest clearly reflected that.
It was horrible.
On the second day, he watched her. His plan was to catch her in the act of being cruel. Pop out and kill her. It wasn't an elaborate plan, he stuck to what he knew: killing evil witches. He realized his plan was futile before the morning was over. The idiotic animals in this forest adored her. Animals called to her, they ran around her feet for attention. They jumped branch to branch desperate for her attention. He sort of hoped that she would kick a baby duck just so he would have a reason to hate her.
On the third day, he sat up in a tall tree and mourned the fact that he couldn't kill this witch. Wren was not mopeing. He was a dragon. He was a legendary creature that struck fear in the hearts of man. He did not mope.
On the morning of the fourth day, the witch sat on her porch before sunrise. She was wrapped in a blanket to ward off the chill. She just sat and stared at the tree line until the sun rose above it. It was the stillest he had seen her be. Usually, she flittered around, moving or talking constantly. She hummed or sang while she walked or worked. Seeing her sit so still and quiet was quite unnerving. Possibilities flashed through his mind.
Was she sick? Maybe she had trouble sleeping. Was she eating enough? Did something happen?
Deep down he knew what had the witch staring forlornly at the sunrise.
She clearly had hoped he would show up. He could imagine it clearly. He would stride right up to her and her face would glow. She'd move around like a hummingbird, not knowing what part of him to focus on. She would take him inside her home. Feed him, care for him. Give him a place to heal. She would give all this without asking him for anything. Without expecting anything.
Wren didn't know if he could bear it. Being in debt to a witch was a serious thing.
So he stayed in his tree. He watched her as the sunrise painted her in its morning glory.
Massie
She spent the morning feeling sorry for herself. She watched the sunrise and hoped that Wren was watching, wherever he was. He was safe in her forest. He probably found a place to rest and to heal. Even if she desperately wanted that place to be with her, she was still glad he had a place at all.
She needed something to take her mind off of him. She puttered around with the household tasks. Her heart wasn't in it when she tried to add some spellwork to her healing balms. She needed to do something fun. Something creative.
She looked around her workroom and gathered up some paints.
The first time she worked her booth at the human farmers market, she came across a little tradition that she absolutely adored. People would paint on rocks and hide them so others could find them. Some of the painted rocks were elaborate. Others were painted by children, each of them a treasure to find. Many of the booths had little painted stones out for people to take. She remembered the sheer joy on a little girl's face when she found a painted rock hidden beneath some flowers.
Now, painting rocks has become a hobby for Massie. She packed them up and luged them to the farmer's market. Each morning she goes around putting them out for people to find. She loved to make others happy. She even goes to the state park in her forest and leaves them out on the hiking trails. She hopes that whoever finds one of her rocks feels at least some fleeting joy.
She had gathered up her paints but was still searching for some rocks to use. She searched all around her messy workroom but found none. That meant she had to make a trip to the quarry.
The quarry wasn't a real quarry. It was a rocky outcrop near the base of the hill. The ground was covered in all sorts of rocks. They chipped off the hill and gathered at its base. It was the best place to find rocks that weren't being used.
She preferred the river's rocks but a lot of little creatures used them to hide under. The quarry always had new rocks falling from its peak. She grabbed an old dusty backpack and some gloves. She packed a water bottle and a few snacks. She wouldn't be gone too long.
As much as she liked walking barefoot, the quarry was not the place to do it. She put on a sturdy pair of water shoes. They were thick enough on the bottom that she could walk across the rocks. They also had the benefit of being flexible which made it easier for her to balance.
She set off directly behind her house. She said goodbye to her crops which were still seeds in the soil. The first thirty minutes of the hike were an easy stroll. Instead of pushing her magic out all around her, like she usually did, she concentrated it on her feet and hands. She pushed it into the soil as she walked. She brushed it on the trees and plants, her fingertips touching as she passed by.
There were no clouds out, giving the run-free reign of the sky. It filtered through the canopy of trees but gave her little warmth from the shade. At around forty-five minutes, the trails started getting steeper. She followed the switchback trail between the trees and started up the incline. At an hour in, she was sweating despite the chill of the early spring day. At an hour and a half, the trees started to thin out and she continued to climb. Finally, the trail flatted out at the rocky plateau. The trail continued up to the top of the small mountain.
She plopped down in the dirt to catch her breath. Her body was twitching from the exertion. She reviled in exhaustion. Her body was shaped and molded by the trails in this forest. When she first stumbled into this job, she was haunted by the violence in her family. She was small and frail. She kept her magic so tightly bound inside her body that it made her physically ill.
That girl didn't exist anymore. She's not sure if her parents would recognize her if they saw her now. No longer was she hunched over trying to hide. Desperate to appear even smaller than she already was. Massie now stood as tall as she could, which was only 5'2, but her posture was confident. Her shoulders were strong. Her pallid skin had warmed under the sun and freckles blossomed across her skin. Her long and limp hair was all chopped off the first year she lived here. It was healthy and sun-streaked, sitting above her shoulders in wild curls.
Her body wasn't thin or weak anymore. She was built with treks through the forest, shaped by swimming in the rivers and lakes, carved by leaping over rocks and trailing up mountains.
She was exhausted but elated. After she caught her breath and had a quick snack, it was time to hunt for rocks. The dirt path turned rocky as she headed closer to the wall of the hill. She was sure-footed as she balanced on rocks. She collected flat and smooth stones of various sizes and slid them into her bag. She was careful not to make it so heavy that the trip down was unmanageable.
It happened in a second. She had one leg up on a larger rock, the other on the rocky ground. A nose caught her attention from the woods behind her. A large crack sounded through the air. As she jerked her body around towards the noise, she slipped. Then the rocks shifted.
Falling on the stone is never fun. She could feel the sharp edges through her thin pants. Her ankle was truly and magnificently stuck under the heavy rock. When Massie messed up, she was fantastic at it. She's not even sure how she was able to move the rock when she fell, or even how her foot ended up under it, but here she was.
The pain was pretty intense. She could feel the weight of the rock putting immense pressure on the delicate bones in her ankle and foot. She started going over her options. She knew a spell that could cause a big burst of force. She could use it to force the rock off her. Massie wasn't sure if the safest way to go was to forcibly fling the rock off her foot. She could do a spell to make the rock lighter and then force it off. If it was lighter she would have more control over it and not accidentally flay her skin on the rough edges. She reached around and slipped off her heavy pack. She dug in the zipper pocket for the container that held her charcoal sticks. She had the charcoal in her hand and froze. Would using this much magic scare off Wren? She promised she wouldn't use magic to track him but she had been trying not to send out her magic at all. She was used to just releasing it out and letting it settle where it settled. It would benefit the forest wherever it was absorbed. Ever since meeting Wren, she has been more calculated with how she gets her magic out. She didn't want him to feel threatened by the sheer amount of magic she released.
On the other hand, she didn't even know where he was. While she hasn't felt her wards being tripped, he could still be far away from here. Was it worth the chance of making him feel unsafe?
She sighed heavily and put the charcoal away. It wasn't worth it to her. The risk of him losing his chance at safety wasn't worth it to her. She remembered how he looked in the glade. His body was incredibly tight from tension. She remembered the way his eyes looked. Full of distrust as they watched her every move. She was not going to give him another reason to be on guard.
She stretched her arm out to the point of pain. She gritted her teeth and stretched her fingers out to the branch that was resting right out of her reach. Her fingertips just reached the bark. She rolled her fingertips across it trying to move it closer to her. After a few minutes of painstakingly urging the branch closer, she was able to grab it.