The Witch

I lingered a moment longer, tears forming in my eyes although I had just cried moments ago. Fynn’s breath was labored and I could see clear through him now, but still I waited. I reached out one hand, thinking that if I could remove the arrow, maybe Fynn would return to this world.

“Leave me,” Fynn said in a strained voice. “I don’t want you to see. Go!”

The last word was so loud and forceful it startled me into action. Spinning on my heel, I ran blindly into the forest. I could hear the soldiers crashing behind me, firing their arrows in my direction. They must have reached Fynn by now. Would they kill him, or try to capture him? I stumbled over a root and nearly fell as I thought of Fynn lying in a dungeon, weak from his injury. It was my fault he had died, for I realized he must be dead. He wouldn’t let himself be taken.

I hid behind a tree, my heart pounding in my chest so loudly that I was certain the soldiers could hear it. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt warmth cover me from head to toe. I dared not move, but opened my eyes to see four soldiers standing directly in front of me. They were looking around, and one stared at me in puzzlement. I held my breath and willed my heart to slow down. I felt frozen to the tree, in spite of the warmth that enveloped me. An eternity passed before the four guards turned and walked away the way they had come. I exhaled sharply and tried to move, but found myself stuck to the tree. A figure materialized from the forest, the same naked green girl I had met before. She walked right up to me and caressed my face with her long fingers. I could see tiny leaves and buds growing from her arms and shoulders.

“Peace,” she said in a voice that sounded like the rustling leaves. “I will protect you.”

“Why?” I asked. “Who are you?”

“Peace,” the figure repeated. “You have been promised to us, and we shall protect you.”

I was stunned. The water spirit had said the same thing. I had been promised to them, and she had told me the promise had been made to many of her kind. I had thought she meant water spirits, but now I saw she meant the entire populace of spirits.

“What was the promise made to you?” I asked.

The green girl giggled, her fingers tracing my face. “We will have you, the others will not. The promise was made first to us, so you are ours.”

I suddenly felt cold. The words of the water spirit had been possessive as well. Were the spirits of this strange world fighting over her? Could I trust any of them to tell me the truth? I thought of Fynn and my heart ached. He was a spirit as well. Was he trying to keep me for himself? Had I been promised to him as well? I struggled against the invisible bonds that held me to the tree, ignoring the amused look of the green girl.

Suddenly, I found I could move. I stepped away from the tree and the expression on the girl’s face turned angry. She bared her pointed yellow teeth at me and hissed like a cat. I back away and bumped into someone who grabbed my arm and held me firmly. Twisting, I saw a woman wearing animal skins over a coarsely woven brown dress. Her hair was dirty and had bird’s feathers sticking out of the tangles, and her skin was a deep tan. She was pointing at the green girl and muttering under her breath, and I saw the spirit disliked whatever she was saying. With a final hiss, she vanished back into the forest.

“You can see the tree spirits, girl?” the woman asked me, turning me so I faced her but not letting go of my arm.

I nodded and the woman looked me up and down. “Soldiers was after you, wasn’t they? Well, they’ll not find you with me.”

The woman laughed and began to walk away, dragging me with her. I found I could do little but follow. I managed to collect my thoughts enough to ask who she was.
“Me? I was a pretty maid like you, I was. Now they call me the witch of the forest. Cursed to see the things that ain’t there, like your pretty tree spirit friend. They call me all sorts of names, but once I was called Ruella.”

Ruella turned her head to grin at me, and I could see many of her teeth were missing. Her eyes were blue and in the permanent squint of someone who was always outside. Fynn’s warning sprang to my mind.

“Are you with the Huryl or the Dyrel?” I asked cautiously.

Ruella barked a quick laugh. “Neither of them fools. They think they’re fighting for something grand, but all the death will mean nothing. Ah, here we are.”

She stopped in front of a strange looking shack that seemed to be made of both living and dead wood. Four trees grew at the corners, and their canopy provided a roof of sorts. The walls were made of logs and boulders piled haphazardly in place to give shelter from the wind. The door was a small gap between two rocks, covered with a deerskin. Ruella led me inside, her hand still firmly clamped around my wrist.

Inside the house (if it could be called that) was very sparse. The floor was covered with dried grass, and the furniture consisted of a few rocks to sit on and a flat stone that served as a table. Clay jars were piled along the walls, filled with what I could only assume were provisions for the winter. A pile of furs in the back was Ruella’s bed. As I stepped into the house, I could hear the rustling of mice beneath the grass flooring and I shuddered. It was a far cry from Ellena’s beautifully decorated tent.

“Now, girl,” Ruella said. “I’ll give you a choice. The soldiers are after you, and the spirits seem to be as well. I don’t reckon either will be too gentle with you. Your guide is gone, and you’re alone. What’ll you do?”