Raven The Fire Blood Amulet

Chapter 6

Raven had instantly been enamored with Gizelle, her hair the pinnacle of Raven’s admiration of her. Gizelle had mixed a special ointment for Raven to rub on the scars that were on her arms and legs. Gizelle could not remove them, but they could be considerably reduced visibly with her ointment. Raven had at first been embarrassed, but being a woman and only a few years older, Gizelle had been able to soothe her mind. Raven had of course expressed her extreme fascination in Gizelle’s clothes, resulting in Raven preferring a pair of jeans to that of the scratchy dress she had worn previously. Janelle’s distaste in old world clothing was evident in her expression every time Gizelle and Raven would pass her on the way to the library or Raven’s room. Although she was still not allowed outside, Raven was given access to the whole house.

Gizelle was standing on the edge of the forest waiting for Markus to join her. Markus needed some herbs and roots for some potions he wanted to make. And since Gizelle has not been allowed to venture into the forest alone, she did not have what he needed. Over the past month Markus has slowly been teaching Raven about who she is and where she comes from, spending most of their time in the library. Occasionally showing her magic, with little tricks and illusions. She, on the other hand, has been helping Raven learn about the various herbs and roots and their uses. Raven has been eager and willing, but could sometimes get frustrated when she did not understand or could not remember.

Raven has expressed several times that she was glad to have another woman to talk to. Gizelle understood Raven had not been privileged to be raised by a mother or any other woman figure. Whereas Gizelle had been fortunate, even though her mother had died at childbirth, the tribe’s women had stepped up to help her father raise her.

Raven was also starting to gain weight and was slowly rebuilding her muscle mass training with Junaid in basic exercise and self-defense. She has noticed the odd looks Junaid has been giving Raven lately, and the glances Raven was trying hard to hide. She was aware about the unfortunate imprinting and she was worried that this might cause even more confusion, especially if Raven starts to develop feelings for Junaid. Which she supposes would not be unusual, taking Raven’s limited contact with anyone in consideration. Junaid was attractive, young and very virile, one of the tribe’s strongest warriors and the attention he has been giving to Raven could ultimately send the wrong signals.

But then again, she herself was struggling with her emotions and Gizelle could not ignore her own uncertain feelings she had developed for Markus.

Markus came quietly up behind her with two leather bags slung over his shoulders, wearing his red cloak.

“Good morning Gizelle” he greets smiling. Gizelle curses, jumping slightly and Markus chuckles.

“Markus” Gizelle nods, blushing and pulls her blue cloak a bit tighter around her. The air is very cold for an autumn’s day. She was dressed in her usual jeans and sweater combo, her curls forced into a ponytail low in her neck, with a few curls framing her face.

“Ready?” Markus asks, handing her a leather bag. Gizelle nods and follows Markus as he leads the way into the forest.

They stop several times gathering roots and herbs, Markus filling his leather bag and Gizelle hers, both remaining vigilant and scanning the area around them.

No one would dare to venture into the White Oak’s forest, but some have been foolish enough to try and reach the White Oaks Tribe’s den. The rumors that the wolfwalkers possessed old world technology was a common belief, but one which Gizelle herself has yet to see. Over the years as her power grew, Gizelle placed protective wards around the forest, and those who did manage to break through were quickly dealt with by the wolfwalkers. Wolfwalkers had a keen sense of smell, and they could sniff out an intruder frighteningly quick.

Gizelle kneels down on a mossy patch below a huge and old oak tree, she gently feathers over it with her fingers, chanting softly. Markus looks up to watch her from where he was digging in the soil near a tree root. The filtering sun rays bouncing off Gizelle’s ginger red hair, making the curls spark. Markus groans inwardly as his groin twitches, for weeks he has been struggling to control his undeniable attraction for the witch. He was also inexplicably drawn to her power. Her magic was powerful, and she was completely unaware of it.

Gizelle plucks the white speckled mushrooms that had sprouted underneath her fingers placing them into the leather bag. They rarely bloom on top of the ground and Gizelle had to entice them to pop out. They have great disinfecting properties and she often uses them to make an ointment to rub on sores or injuries. Gizelle glides her hand over the soft moss, it was still cold and damp from the early morning dew. She loves the sensation against her palm. She was happy to be in the forest again. She has always felt connected to it, the living essence of the plants and trees mingling with her magic giving her a sense of belonging.

Gizelle brings her hand up to her chest, here in the forest when she closes her eyes, she could feel the faint stirring of her wolf. As a witch half-breed she was prohibited from shifting. A wolfwalker with witch powers is considered too dangerous and unpredictable. And her queen has warned what the consequences would be if she shifted. She can only be one, not both. This also meant that Gizelle will never be able to mate, not as a wolfwalker anyway. All the young, available male men in her tribe have made it painfully obvious that they had no interest in her whatsoever, so even if it were a possibility her choices of a mate were non-existent.

Her father had been severely reprimanded for his involvement with a witch. But Janelle had been forgiving, allowing her father to raise Gizelle in the tribe after her mother had died giving birth. But her witch heritage had ensured her fate as a half-breed and her ultimate loss of ever being able to shift.

The touch of Markus’s hand on her shoulder, shot a wave of electricity down her spine. She looks at him as he kneels down beside her, a finger on his lips, indicating she needs to be quiet. Her eyes widen, but she nods. Her ears strain to listen at the sounds surrounding them, as he covers them both with his cloak. He spoke a silent spell and she could only assume it was some kind of illusion masking them from whoever they were hiding from. He shifts closer to her, his hand reaching for hers and grabbing it tightly. Gizelle’s heart was beating furiously in her chest, both because she was frightened and thrilled that Markus was holding her hand.

The enemy came swiftly passing them by unseen. How many there were, they could not determine, their sight obscured by the cloak. Markus tried to count the footsteps, but some of them were oddly mismatched, dragging rather than running or walking. Several minutes passed and then suddenly it was quiet again. Markus carefully drops the cloak, breathing a sigh of relief when he discovers they were alone.

“Come on, we have to get back to the den. I have a feeling whoever they are, they are here for Raven.”