Chapter 6: The Witch of Windborne

Her moon-gray eyes still consume me, swallowing me whole.

The way she had looked at me before I even spoke… it was like she knew I wasn’t truly a beast. Had she sensed the human trapped within this lupine prison before the words left my mouth?

If her sisters hadn’t come along, I might have been able to calm her, speak to her, tell her my problem, plead for her help.

But when I heard the women calling her name through the trees, I bolted. I couldn’t take any chances. Now the villagers would know that I had been in the Windborne Wood, despite Granny’s wards, and they would begin the hunt.

Unless she didn’t tell. But why wouldn’t she?

Feeling restless, I run up the pass to an overlook with a view of the village. From there I can see three Red Cloaks clustered around her.

Theodora. Her name is like a whisper itself, and I long to call to her again. My mind, like my heart, is racing. I am also concerned. Had I hurt her? If so, I certainly hadn’t mean to. I make a mental note to check later.

Suddenly a dead rabbit thumps at my feet, arresting my attention.

“Fresh kill.”

Granny. I turn around, and before me stands a wizened old woman, her long gray hair interwoven with flowers. Her kind blue eyes, the same cerulean as her embroidered robes, sparkle and crinkle at the corners.

Granny and Lucien | Created in Midjourney

“Hello, Granny. I hope you’re doing well,” I greet then thank her for the rabbit before sitting on my haunches to tear through the flesh of the plump little creature. Despite the human still lurking within me, I have quite the taste for raw meat now.

“You’re welcome, Lucien,” she kindly replies. “What trouble are you brewing in my wood, young man? Why did Ravyn let you out of the Murkfell?” She sits next to me on a stump, taking flowers out of her basket and weaving them together.

“She wants me to kill the new Red Cloak,” I answer in between bites, licking my jowls.

“Why is that? She’s never bothered with them before.” Granny’s gnarled, arthritic fingers work surprisingly fast, weaving the flowers into a crown.

“She came through the Murkfell Wood on the way to the village, unlike everyone else who takes the long way around.”

Granny’s face lifts, clearly impressed with the young woman. “Very brave of her,” she acknowledges. “How did she survive then? Doesn’t Ravyn kill everyone who enters her wood and then blame it on you?”

I sigh softly. “Usually, yes, but she was out of the wood that day. Not sure where she went, though.”

“It’s probably best you don’t know,” Granny adds, then notices the box tied around my neck and inquires about it. She then pokes it with her finger, the knuckle swollen. Her fingers resemble the twisted branches of the Murkfell.

“It’s for the poor girl’s heart.”

Granny shakes her head, tsking. “That Ravyn! Killing an innocent girl! And for what? Walking through her wood to get to her post on time?”

“It’s not that, Granny,” She… She’s…” I hesitate, not knowing if she will believe me. But it’s Granny, my only friend in this world. Of course she’ll believe me.

“Yes, yes, spit it out, boy!”

I hold Granny’s gaze. “She’s a Moonbright witch.”

A sudden hush befalls us both for a brief moment.

“A Moonbright, you say?” Granny gasps. “They usually don’t leave their clan, you know,” she says softly, contemplating me meaningfully. “Ravyn wants the Moonbright’s heart in a box to protect her from the prophecy.”

It’s a statement, not a question. Granny knows Ravyn all too well.

“Yes, Granny, that’s the gist of it,” I confess, before gazing back down at the village. The Red Cloaks are now gone, the villagers milling about.

“Stupid girl!” Granny scolds. “Doesn’t she know there is no getting around a prophecy?” She stands, her knees creaking as she does so. “Come, boy, let’s go find a heart for your darkling witch.”

It takes a couple of hours, but Granny and I found a boar, which I quickly dispatch. I drag it back to Granny’s cottage, high up in the Windborne mountains, where she cuts out the boar’s heart and disappears with it for a time, “To work her magic in peace,” as she always says.

I never argue with Granny. She has strange, powerful, ancient magic, but I have never seen her practice it before; she prefers to be alone.

A while later, Granny comes back with the heart wrapped in black velvet cloth, which she carefully places in the box, then ties it back around my neck.

“Now, go take that to your darkling witch,” she instructs gruffly. “She’ll leave the Moonbright girl alone, at least for a while. And then we can get to work.”

I cock my head, curious. “Work? What work?”

She grins. “Getting the little moon witch to break your curse, of course.”

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