From the forest came a loud wail which carried its way through the woodland to a neighboring village. The exceedingly vulgar yelps awoke the sleeping residents and compelled them to trudge through the greenery in their pajamas to investigate. They carried their oil lanterns in front of them while draped in their bedding for warmth.
Some carried sticks for weapons and used them to beat a path for the rest to follow. Their search led them to a clearing that revealed a witch's hut near the base of a gray stoned, snow-topped mountain.
It was there they discovered, in wonderment and in fright, a giant infant beside the humble shed. The giant child was naked, pink, and in lying in the fetal position on the soft earth. The villagers didn't know what to make of this and they sought answers from the witch that lived inside the hut.
The fearful villagers demanded, from a safe distance. "Come out Witch! Explain yourself! What have you done?" All the shouts drowned one another out and turned their demands into indescribable roars. This only made the witch cower in her shelter.
It was Mayor Winslow that stepped forth to remedy the situation and make sense of the matter. Winslow was a tall and handsome gentleman, with vibrant emerald eyes, thick torso, thin legs, a bald head and a marvelous red beard, which he twisted the ends of with his fingers to a curled point.
His people quieted themselves as they watched him walk, with all the confidence of a king, toward the shed. Only he had the courage to knock on the wooden door without hesitation. His hammering nearly caving in the flimsy wooden door.
"Come on out." He encouraged her, his deep voice devoid of malice and judgment. "I will make sure my people will not harm you."
The villagers were shocked at the casualness of which he spoke to the witch. Many believed the Mayor's confidence stemmed from him being one of the elders. All fear of death faded as the years went by, causing courage to take its place. However, not many people knew Winslow in great depth.
Those that truly knew Winslow were either dead or their mind had betrayed them as they aged. If his people could see into his past they would know that the witch, they hated was once his dear friend.
"How are you so sure?" The witch spat from behind the door.
"If you won't come out, I'll have to come in. Do you want that?" He gave her an ultimatum, fully aware of how much she cherished privacy.
There was a long pause before the rickety wooden door opened slowly. Winslow peered into the opening and realized that he would have to come in after her.
He paused before entering and turned to his people. "I assure you all, I will handle this."
The crowd murmured with uneasiness. "Don't go in there alone? What if something were to happen to you?" Voices shouted from the masses.
"I am in no danger. There is nothing to be afraid of." He gave them a determined look and a stiff nod before entering. He said all he could, now it was up to his people to trust in their Mayor.
Once he was out of sight the villagers gasped simultaneously in anticipation and the murmurs of worry returned once the door shut.
The shed was darker than he thought. He couldn't see her but he heard her move in the darkness. She was somewhere behind him and she sounded far away. Her steps were slow as well. He couldn't tell if her laggard movements were deliberate or due to old age.
"Are we going to talk in the dark like this, old friend?" He began, trying to lighten the mood because the tension was too thick for his liking.
"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-.
She broke his train of thought and he blinked rapidly to focus on her; to see her.
Her eyes still low and staring, unfocused. "I don't know who did this...or why. All's I know is, it's not my doing." She finally confessed.
A heavy wave of dread fell over her as she awaited his next question. She held her eyes shut tightly to keep the tears in her eyes from falling freely down her face.
"How can it not be your doing?" He needed her to explain. He couldn't face his people with no explanation.
"Because," she began with pain in her voice as tears swelled and fell from her cloudy gray eyes, "I can no longer use magic."
The pain of saying those words; making it true and giving it life, it defeated her. Warm tears sprang free and formed streams down the crevices of her winkled face. Though she was petite she still appeared to shrivel up in her agony. She shielded her shame with her spotted hands as she shook her head; still fighting even if it was the truth.
"Oh, Celia." He said her name so sweetly.
She almost felt something like comfort just by hearing her name said for the first time in decades. She quietly took his words as a small gift for her suffering.
He wished he could comfort her. He wanted to take her up into his arms and tell her that everything would be alright; that he would make everything right. He knew he would be able to deliver. He was certain in his ability to get things done. But he wasn't certain of her. Magic or no, she was still unpredictable.
Magic is what tore them asunder. The Celia he once knew was lost the day the Moon Givers took her. Watching her ball her eyes out over her lost powers made him think twice about acting on his compassionate notions. No, he thought, he couldn't help her. He had to focus on what he was able to do. He had to think of his village and his people.
"How do you know your magic is gone?" He asked coolly; knowing full well it would be a difficult task gathering evidence.
Before the witch could answer, the giant child began to cry again. The wails were deafening. The small shelter gave no protection of their hearing senses. The mayor winced in pain as he covered his ears. Even the witch covered her ears to lessen the impact.
"Stop this, immediately," Winslow demanded.
The witch shook her head. "If I could stop it, I would. I told you I can't." She shouted.
It was then he realized that this was proof enough. He was aware that his friend reveled in her magic power. Now that she was rendered helpless, she could do nothing. She didn't produce this giant child. That only left the questions: how did she loose her powers and who sent the child.
Through the cries, the collective panicked shouts could be heard. Winslow rushed to the window to see what tragedy had befallen his people while he was inside interrogating his friend.
The crowd seemed to be in an uproar. The Mayor's soldiers hold back a small portion of the crowd while the rest watched with horrified expressions. It was a child from the village that stumbled toward the giant. She had wiggled away from her family and made her way towards the giant. She placed a teddy bear near the crying infant. The giant child quieted and looked upon the her with wonderment and smiled with joy at the stuffed bear. The villagers fell quiet and watched pensively.
Winslow emerged from the hut and gazed at the giant child before turning to his people.
"From this day forth the witch-mother will take care of this child," he paused as he tried to piece together his thoughts, "and we shall help in any way we can."
The mob began to shout against their leader. But the child with the teddy bear smiled as anticipation swelled within her. The villagers didn't understand why the witch's burden must be theirs as well. All they knew, all they were told to do was to fight against magic and blame the witch when things went wrong. But Winslow knew better. His position as mayor allowed him certain rights to information before his villagers got a hold of it.
He knew that the world was losing their magical beings and creatures of the Moon Gift. They were disappearing left and right all over. Yet, his friend still remained. Though she lost her magic, she didn't disappear. Now, this giant appears. There was no record of Moon Givers taking children, let alone infants this young age. He didn't know what to make of it. But it wasn't his place to find out. It was his duty to guide his people no matter the situation.
"Please, allow me to finish," he continued, "We shall help our neighbor as if they were one of us. In exchange for our kindness, this child, which will surely grow into an adult, will become our town's World Marvel. "
The villagers were unsure of their leader's plan and spoke softly to one another. He hoped they would look past their judgement and hatred and understand his vision for the future. This giant will be the attraction of the world. For the giant child was a giant wonder.