A Year and a Day

The little village at the edge of Draifel Woods was, in all honesty, run-down and weathered. The newest building was probably the one-room schoolhouse built 50 years (or more) ago. The assorted homes clustered around the town square looked to be at least twice that. If I hadn't been assigned here, I would never have considered living somewhere like this. "You the new witch?" an old man asked as I stepped off the wagon carrying my things. I plastered a smile on my face. "Yes, I am. I'm Kleo. I just--" He cut her off with a scoff. "Damn witches." My breath caught. Apparently, the attitudes of the villagers weren't any newer than their buildings. Before I could say anything more, he spat at my feet and stomped off. The young man who'd driven the wagon (and would be taking it back to the capital once I was moved in) gave a nervous laugh. "Seems you'll not receive a warm welcome, Miss Kleo." "Unfortunately. But never mind that. The directions said the witch's house sits between the village and the forest. It should be just a little farther." I walked alongside the wagon (it wasn't like I would get any less dusty if I climbed back up on it) until we arrived at the little cottage set aside for whichever witch was assigned to this stars forsaken part of the kingdom. The bottom half was built out of river stones, though there hadn't been a river near these parts in several hundred years, and the top half out of wood. The thatch roof would likely leak whenever it rained, and the mix of moss and ivy growing up the walls and over the roof didn't fill me with reassurances about the structural integrity of the place. Concerns aside, it was a cute little place. The wood was a warm honey colour and the windows were trimmed with blue-painted shutters. A herb garden a few steps off to the side was a happy little place, free from constricting pots and flowerbeds. All in all, it looked like what you would expect a witch's cottage to look like. The inside, however, was much neater. Except for the layer of dust over everything (which was forgivable because the previous witch had passed several months back, and been convalesing in the capital for several before that), it was as tidy as any lab space at one of the academies. Two stools were tucked under the near side of a split-height counter, which also served to split the room into 'living room' and 'kitchen.' Glass-fronted cabinets displayed a collection of labelled jars to one side and the usual dishes to the other. A narrow door sat almost perfectly in the middle and I hoped it led to a stillroom. The living room was sparse. A low bench and a faded armchair kept the fireplace company, while a ladder leading up to the bedroom loft stood opposite the front door. And that was it. With my things safely transferred from the wagon to the cottage, I bade the driver farewell and set about unpacking. It didn't take long. I didn't have much more than what was already in the house. Happily, the narrow door led to a hallway with a stillroom, a cold storage, and an indoor garden. The glass-walled and -roofed room was obviously a much newer addition to the cottage, and almost all the plants inside had withered, but for the first time since I was given this assignment I felt a spark of hope. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. ~☆~ Two days later, and that hope was flatter than a cockroach in a laundry press. In that time, I'd met someone from most of the local families, and not a single one was happy to have a witch again. The reactions ranged from discomfort to disgust, with varying intensities as well. The Weftwyld family (who, I was informed immediately upon first meeting, had been living in Draifel village since before the woods were there) were staunchly anti-witch. The matriarch of the family was an elderly woman with severe arthritis in her hands and a tone colder than iron in winter. "It was witches that made that forest," she told me, sitting at my counter and waiting while I made the cream that would ease the swelling and pain in her knuckles. "There wasn't no darkness or magic here a'fore then. The lord of these lands was felled by a witch, and the woods sprang up to swallow his castle and all his lands. If'n it weren't for the quick-thinking lady of the castle, the curse would've taken us too." "Sounds to me like the lady was a witch," I remarked. She tsked loudly. "Just like a witch. Not listening to a word I say." "Madame Weftwyld, you must know a witch is needed here to maintain the Boundary, so the darkness in the forest doesn't escape," I said. "Bah! A mage could do just as well, and help us with the weather too!" I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything. Mages had their uses, I couldn't deny that, but they were more about the offensive than the defensive. Their magic just wasn't made for protecting people. Instead, I offered her the finished jar of ointment and smiled. "Here is your cream, Madame Weftwyld. Use it twice a day--when you first wake up, and after your evening meal--and come see me again in two weeks." She snatched up the jar and plopped down two freshly baked loaves of bread and a quarter wheel of cheese. The exchange made, she eased herself off the stool and began the slow shamble toward the door. "If things get worse, come see me right away," I added. She waved a hand in what might have been an acknowledgment of my words before leaving. As much as she and her family didn't want me there, they at least recognized that I could be of some use to them. The Efright family, on the other hand, would rather pluck out their own eyes than come to me for their ailments. A fact I was quickly made aware of by the second daughter of that family when I offered to give her a salve for a skinned knee. That a twelve-year-old was telling me such a thing was less of a shock than how quickly her older brother swooped in to 'save' her from me. "We're far from the capitol," he warned me, his voice dripping such venom it was a wonder his lips hadn't melted. "Ain't nobody here who'll stop us if we decide to handle things according to the old ways." I didn't bother telling him that the 'old ways' he was thinking of were derived from the feverish ramblings of a madman and that, in truth, witches had generally had a distinct role in society as healers and mediators. I also didn't bother telling him that all graduates of the Magicarum Academy, mage or witch, received a rune that would alert the appropriate authorities should the graduate be harmed. The Academy receiving notice of my death wouldn't do much for me, and I was petty enough to want him to be surprised when the guards showed up to arrest him. Instead, I made a mental note to keep as far from that particular family as I could. The most welcoming of the villagers were the Greyhart couple. Though that was likely in large part because she was several months pregnant and her previous pregnancy had ended in a stillbirth. It was a simple enough thing for me to ensure the health of both mother and babe, and I felt a twinge of guilt at their gratitude. Whatever had gone wrong previously, this pregnancy seemed to be progressing perfectly normally. The rest of my first week in the village passed by similarly. I felt settled enough by then to begin what I was actually there for.