Three Moons

Hunting the Witch

From behind the trees of Gael forest, Haizea watched a young girl as she meandered through the woods with nothing but an old sack and poorly crafted knife. Her attire was simple, a course, tan dress made from jute and crude shoes made of hide. Loosely tied around her neck she wore a bright red, woollen scarf. It was likely the most expensive thing she owned. She was poor, that was apparent. A peasant girl from a tribe of barbarians. Not that this one looked particularly barbaric. Wild, yes, well-nourished, well endowed too to say the least, but also soft and young and naive. Soft, young, naive. It almost hurt to think about. Almost.

The girl, who was Deargish, had red hair, green eyes and fair but speckled skin. While extraordinary and captivating to most Basamortans these features were all rather common traits of her race. Less captivating was their short stature and round stomachs, of which the girl had not missed out. 

Haizea remembered first scouting out the Deargish lands, not six years before. They were one of the last uncolonised peoples of Eileland. She had almost been laughed out of the court when she returned with a report of burly savages with skin as white as snow, hair like fire and eyes the colour of gemstones. They fought with axes, ate meat raw and sacrificed their children to a primitive deity they believed lived in the trees. Haizea's lips twitched in a subtle grimace as she considered how wrong she had been about the Lady of the Forest. Primitive. Ha. 

The takeover hadn't been difficult. The Deargish men were brutish and wild but tactless and stood no chance against the advanced weaponry and strategy of the Basamortans. To great relief, perhaps on both sides, they were conquered with minimal casualties. It was Prince Asier's first campaign, and unlike his father, he took no pleasure in wasting human life. 

The Deargish girl had now entered a small clearing and was picking juleberries, which enjoyed the light of the sun, while muttering to herself, an odd habit of hers. They had been watching her for more than a week and had observed some rather unique behaviour. She was often in conversation with a character that greatly agitated her. However, this character was, presumably, herself. 

Sorne had said they shouldn't jump to conclusions. Hodei had said the forest is full of magic and secrets they may not understand. They should not be hasty in assuming the girl was mad. Of course, they listened to wise Sorne and learned Hodei as they always did, but Haizea did so begrudgingly. She could not call the girl crazy out loud but she still thought of her that way. An invisible forest creature was one thing, the Lady of the Forest could certainly move around unseen, but trees? She talked to trees too, and then talked to herself, and then talked to the trees again. She had no sense. She was deranged. Back in Basamortah she would have been taken to the gallows and hung by now. Oh if Sorne and Hodei knew Haizea was thinking such things. 

The mad girl was also a witch. That presented some problems. An apprentice witch it seemed. She lived in a cabin with an elder who, from what they observed had been teaching her simple enchantments and concoctions. She was a novice, as far as they knew. But what a novice witch could accomplish was left to be discovered. They would be taking no chances today.

From the corner of her eye, Haizea was aware of a shadow moving to her right. Nahia, the scout and a shadow indeed, silent as the air itself. She perched herself low to the ground behind a bone tree that was only just thick enough to hide her.

"The elder witch remains in her cabin. No indication she plans to follow the girl. She's alone out here," Nahia murmured in a low voice.

"That's what I keep saying, but Hodei disagrees." Haizea's smile was wry. Nahia, her closest friend, understood and rolled her eyes in mock scorn. "And Itzal," Haizea asked. 

"Around, not causing us any problems, yet."

"He will though. If we touch her, if she seems afraid, he won't understand." 

"So you'll do it then?"

"I have to. It's the only-"

"Haizea," Nahia cut her off, "Look."

Haizea, looked back at the girl and let out a huff. The wolf had joined her. It shoved its nose into her face toppling her over. She giggled stupidly as it pinned her down and licked her around the ear. 

"Cleow stop, stop," she gasped before collapsing into giggles again. Haizea rolled her eyes, 'Cleow,' really? The girl was feebly trying to push the wolf off her with no success. Eventually, it complied but only because it wanted pats. It rolled on its back and demanded attention. She gave it gladly, leaving her berry picking to rub her hands aggressively over the wolf's belly. Haizea wasn't sure just how long the two had known each other, likely only a couple of weeks, but they were close. How sweet. 

Haizea looked over to her left where, behind a thick bahl tree, Jokin shrugged his large shoulders. What do they do now? 

'Wait,' Haizea signalled to him. They had no choice, but the pressure she felt was rising. They had just one night before the full moon, if they didn't take the girl now they would be forced to wait another month. It was to be a full moon. That was the instruction. They could do nothing now but wait for the wolf and the girl to separate and once they did action would need to be swift. 

To Nahia, she said, "Tell Sorne, Jokin and the others that we wait until I can take Itzal down. As soon as I do, whoever is closest to the girl needs to grab her. Remind them, she must be bound, blinded and muffled. She cannot be allowed to speak or move her hands."

"Subdue, gag, blind, bind," Nahia recited, in order, the instructions that Haizea had drilled into all of them earlier that day. 

"Go," Haizea instructed and Nahia left skittering through the trees, silent as a shadow. 

Haizea watched and waited. The girl continued to pat the wolf, but more gently, lazily, upon a patch of grass that had been trimmed to the nib by deer and wild goats. She spoke to it like a friend, telling it some story, or she spoke to herself, or to a tree. Who knew? She was just a little too far away for Haizea to perceive what she was saying. As Haizea watched, her hands fondled the cords tied around her belt. She was ready. She just needed the right moment. 

The wolf looked almost dead, eyes shut, tongue out. It was in absolute bliss. Haizea wondered if the girl would be so fond of her animal companion once they were done with her. Probably not. He had a lot of work ahead of him. They all did. 

After the scene had played out for some minutes a cloud passed over the sun obscuring its light and inhibiting its heat. It was replaced by a cool breeze, the very first warning of a light storm that would likely hit the forest by the close of the week. Suddenly alarmed by the chill the girl stopped petting the wolf and returned to picking her berries. Soon she would be done and would return to her cabin where the elder witch waited. Haizea clenched her jaw. She needed the wolf to leave, to put some distance between himself and the girl. But the wolf continued to laze on its patch of grass unphased by the change of temperature. 

The girl was finished with the berries. She stood up and began brushing forest residue off her skirt. Dammit, Haizea thought, get up, get up. As if hearing her the wolf stood, lazily, It let out a long yawn and stooped low to the ground as it stretched. It looped around the girl's legs sniffing at her skirt as she tidied and straightened it. Come on. 

When the girl turned to leave, headed straight toward Haizea the wolf bounded ahead of her. Now was the time. Haizea had to be swift. The wolf found her quickly and leapt at her with glee, wagging its tail and licking her face. 

"Brother," she whispered, pulling him away so that they were face to face. She looked him in his large golden eyes, Itzal's eyes. "I have something for you." From a pouch attached to her belt, she pulled out a chunk of dry venison. She had barely withdrawn her hand when the wolf lapped the meat up, hungrily, fearlessly. He threw his head back and swallowed the venison whole. 

Haizea quickly ducked behind a tree, hoping that she hadn't given herself away. Again she was left waiting. Waiting for Itzal to fall in slumber. He was sniffing the ground in a futile search for more venison. It occurred to Haizea that he may approach her again and if the girl was following, as Haizea knew she was, then Haizea would be found out in seconds. 

Itzal was looking at her. His golden eyes fixed, not on her pouch but her face. Oh, pray to the Moon Goddess for forgiveness, but this was the only way. 

"Stay there," Haizea muttered under her breath. She could feel her heart beginning to pound. She had kept her composure all this time, but the wolf was still standing and the witch was likely approaching. "Go to sleep, please." But he didn't and the fall of feet on leaves and twigs coming up behind her told her it was time to go. The girl was too close, Haizea couldn't possibly leave without being noticed. She rounded the tree so that she was hidden, at least visually, from the wolf and hopefully the girl. 

"Cleow," the girl called. She was close, right on the other side of the tree. "What are you looking at?" Haizea's jaw clenched. She reached for the cords tied around her belt. One, in particular, was threaded with a roll of fabric. The girl moved clumsily and Haizea could hear her as she walked through the forest undergrowth, toward her. Haizea took a step to the right, keeping as close to the tree as she could without rubbing against it, careful not to catch her feet on any roots. Her fingers found the knot of her gag and began to untie it. It was Bittor, her husband, who had taught her how to tie knots and she had spent hours tying and untying them, learning to be as quick as possible. Her nimble fingers didn't slip and the knot was untied in an instant. 

Another step to the right. She could hear the girl moving slowly, cautiously. Did she suspect something? Another step to the right. She had almost circled the tree entirely. Ahead of her, she saw Nahia peeping out from behind a tree. She signalled to Haizea that the others had surrounded the area, ready to support her. One last step to the right, Itzal was now laying where he had once stood, still awake but with drooping eyes. That was enough. 

Hazea spun around the tree, she found the girl beside it, looking into the forest away from her. 

"Gren-" the girl began.

With one swift movement, Haizea flung the gag over the young witch's head, hooked it in her mouth and pulled it tight.