The Wolves of Witch Pond

Chapter 3: Enemy Territory

Willow

“Mags, I’m going to speak with High Priestess Durga,” Willow called up the stairs.

The only reply she got was a grunt. Morgause was practicing her charm bag weaving. Willow knew that was a sensitive task for her.

Giggling to herself, she grabbed her crimson cape and tied it about her neck, putting the hood over her face.

The days were still warm but the nights had a chill to them.

Willow always liked the night after the full moon. There was never a single howl or any sign of the wolves. It was like they exhausted themselves so much on the full moon.

Her bare feet prickled with cold as she walked the well-worn dirt road to High Priestess Durga’s house. Small pebbles and jagged rocks pressed at the soles of her feet but they were tough as leather now.

When she reached Durga’s front door, there was already an oil lamp lit, hanging down from the awning. That meant the High Priestess was receiving company.

Willow took a deep breath and thought about why she was there. Durga was the most legendary witch when it came to communicating with the ancestors. Surely, she would have answers about Willow’s mother and how to rid Witch Pond of those horrid creatures.

She let out her breath and knocked before letting herself in.

Durga sat in a creaking rocking chair by a big fire in the hearth. Her silvery hair was brushed smooth, hanging loosely down her back she had her legs crossed, bare feet poking out from her floor-length, peasant skirt.

She hummed to herself as her fingers nimbly tied knots in a small cord.

“Ahh, Willow. I was expecting you,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. She smiled at Willow, the corners of her eyes crinkling with crow’s feet.

Willow untied her cape and hung it on the knobby, oak hat rack next to the door. She went before the High Priestess and knelt on the circular carpet at Durga’s feet. Willow took Durga’s left hand and kissed the back of it.

“High Priestess,” she said, bowing her head.

“Rise, young one. You do not need to bow your head in my presence,” Durga said, her voice strong and firm.

Willow nodded, getting to her feet.

Durga’s eyes twinkled and she smiled lightly, pointing to a nearby chair. “Sit with me and tell me what troubles you,” she said, her tone reverting to a rasping, crackled with age.

Willow sat and watched as Durga began to tie knots in her cord again. Her knobby knuckles were still nimble as they worked. The High Priestess hummed softly. Her twinkling eyes were intent on her spell work.

“What are you weaving?” Willow asked.

“Just a little charm to amplify the power of our ancestors,” Durga said with a sweet smile.

“That is what I have come to talk to you about.”

“I know, dear one. It was your visit that gave me the idea to weave this spell.” Durga glanced up for a moment, winking when their eyes met.

“High Priestess, I am not as skilled in spirit magic as you. I have deeply felt the absence of our ancestors’ power. I believe that it is harming the coven,” Willow explained her concerns.

“Yes. So fearful, in fact, that you have ignored my decrees and snuck out to Witch Pond as soon as the sun peaks the morning following the full moons,” Durga said. She looked up again, her eyes sharp as she scrutinized the younger witch.

Willow chuckled nervously and smoothed her skirts down her legs. “We have always been considered one of the strongest covens in the world, because we draw from our ancestors, going back hundreds of years. If that connection is weakened, so are we.”

Durga was humming again, her rocking chair creaking as she pushed back and forth in the chair. Her eyes were focused on her hands.

“You are very insightful and intuitive, child. Just like your mother. The very qualities that would make you perfect as my replacement,” Durga said, not looking away from her cord.

Willow’s cheeks reddened and she twisted her hands in her lap. Among her peers, she was the most gifted in many kinds of magic. The elders had long whispered rumors about her becoming the next High Priestess.

Durga had never spoken such words allowed to Willow, and the praise sent quivers down her spine.

“Now, if only you would stop disobeying.” Durga chuckled and shook her head. With the knots tied, she set her cord aside.

Sighing, Willow folded her hands over her stomach. “Sometimes, I see things differently than the elders.”

“And you think that with all your wisdom, your way is better than theirs?” the High Priestess inquired.

“I think after a certain age, witches are too set in their ways to see alternatives. I wish to challenge them while I am still young and see things differently,” Willow stated with a firm head nod.

“Well put, my dear. However, on this matter, I am resolved. You are to stay away from Witch Pond, especially around the full moon,” Durga insisted.

Willow nodded.

The High Priestess had shifted her focus to the fire. Her eyes glazed over.

Willow understood that their conversation was over. She grabbed her cloak.

“And I don’t want to hear of you dragging Morgause into your recklessness,” Durga added as Willow reached for the door.

Willow nodded again and stepped out into the darkness.

She had no intention of obeying the High Priestess’s decree. Witch Pond was a huge source of energy for her coven. The others might be too afraid to go near it, but she wasn’t. She wouldn’t let her fear of the wolves keep her from her birthright.

It was the night after the full moon. Willow knew wolf activity was minimal on this night. She could move around the pond unseen and unchallenged by their presence.

Collecting her skirts, she veered off the road to her house and headed toward the pond. As she got closer to the pond, she felt a tug in her stomach, a pull, like a hook was yanking at her insides.

The pressure was pulling her away from the pond, into the forest beyond. Without even realizing it, Willow walked past the pond and right up to the tree line.

She stopped, staring up at the hulking, looming shadows of the trees. Their branches were gnarled fingers, reaching out. A soft breeze rustled the leaves and she heard the trees moaning to each other.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she stood there. The forest was wolf territory.

The forest was even older than her coven, most of the trees, too. It was rumored that the wolves first came from the forest. The old tales told of how the wolves had come on two legs, dressed as men, and they’d offered friendship to the coven.

It had all been a trick.

The wolves were devious and cruel. The coven had taken action to protect themselves against the beasts, casting a spell to remind them that they were just beasts and not truly men.

Her ancestors had underestimated the vicious will of the wolves.

“You’re not going in there, are you?”

Willow whipped around her heart in her throat. She let out a long breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

“Morgause, what are you doing here?” she asked, fanning herself with her hand.

“You test the High Priestess’s patience, always breaking her rules. She favors you now, but go into wolf territory, and she won’t.” Morgause’s warning came with a sharply raised eyebrow and pursed lips.

Willow glanced back at the trees. “I feel drawn there. Like the ancestors are guiding me.”

“Only the High Priestess can interpret the will of the ancestors now, you know that,” Morgause argued, crossing her thin, bony arms.

“Perhaps. But this is a feeling I cannot ignore.”

“I’m not covering for you anymore,” Morgause insisted, throwing her arm out to the side.

“I never asked you to,” Willow reminded her. “I’m sorry, Maggie. This is something I have to do.”

Shutting out Morgause’s please, Willow clutched her cape around her and headed into the forest.