The Wolves of Witch Pond

Chapter 4: A Wolf in the Woods

Willow

The air was thick between the trees. Thick and heavy.

Willow felt the life force of the forest pulse beneath her feet. It felt like the ground was breathing like the forest had its own heartbeat.

There was magic there. Powerful, ancient magic connected through the roots of the trees. It grew in every blade of grass, every mushroom, every leaf that dangled from a branch.

The forest was made off limits when Willow was just a child. So few coven members that ventured there to gather magical ingredients in the form of plants, insects, and fungi, ever returned.

Fortunately, the coven could acquire those ingredients elsewhere. But Willow could feel the potency of the things that lived in this ancient forest.

She pulled her cape around her tightly, a shiver running down her spine. When an owl hooted, Willow glanced around wildly, trying to find it.

The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck prickled like she was being watched.

Willow could feel that the magic in this forest had become corrupted. It wasn’t the kind of pure, balancing magic she was used to. Even when working with their ancestors, her coven always practiced harmonizing and balancing magic.

Curses and hexes were forbidden magic in most covens because they could corrupt and rot the source of power witches drew from.

Somehow, this forest had been cursed.

Deeper into the forest Willow wandered. The pull in her abdomen guided her. It got stronger with every step.

It didn’t take long for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was enough starlight overhead to provide light. Beneath the thick leaf canopies, she felt like she had entered a whole new world. The darkness there was more than just from the night.

When she reached the open mouth of a cave, Willow stopped. The pull in her stomach quivered and her knees trembled. Whatever guiding force had led her here, it was the cave she was meant to find.

Willow stepped up to the mouth of the cave. She closed her eyes and listened.

Inside, she heard the sharp rasp of deep, labored breaths. Someone was inside, and they were in bad shape.

Bringing her hand to her lips, Willow whispered magical words against her skin. A small flame blossomed in her palm, uncurling like a rose in bloom.

She held the light up and stepped into the cave. “Hello?”

The heavy breathing stopped.

Willow held the light up higher. She caught a ripple of movement near the cave floor. Her nose picked up the fresh scent of copper… blood.

“Are you injured?” Willow asked the dark shape.

In the dim light, she saw the silhouette of a person lying on the ground. By his size, she assumed a man. He was so dark that all she could see were the whites of his eyes.

“You don’t smell familiar. Who are you?” he asked, his voice deep and husky. His question was followed by a small, pained, groan.

Willow went right to his side and knelt down. “Are you injured?”

The man’s eyes were fixed on the light in her palm.

Through the low, orange glow, Willow could make out a few of his features. He had black hair, knotted into long dreadlocks. His eyes were a deep, deep brown, and his skin was dark. He had thick lips, a chiseled jaw, and even though he was lying down, she could tell he was muscular.

At the corner of his left eye, Willow saw a crescent moon tattoo. She’d never seen a ritual symbol or mark like that belonging to any coven.

“You’re a witch,” the man snarled, pulling away from Willow.

“I am,” she nodded. “Now, let me have a look at your injuries.” She placed her palm on the cave floor, transferring the little flame to the ground. Leaning down, she breathed on it, giving the flame more light.

It tripled in size and filled the entire cave with flickering, dancing shadows.

Immediately, Willow noticed the smears of blood on the cave floor. Her eyes followed their trail, right to the man’s blood-soaked shirt. His chest was mangled.

“Oh. You were stabbed,” she muttered. “Out here, I would have assumed a wolf attack.”

“Wolf?” the man said, laughing humorlessly. He groaned in pain again and twisted away from Willow.

“This is their territory. They are not so kind to those who enter it,” she explained.

The man laughed again. He still kept his distance but in the brighter light, Willow could see him better.

He was younger than she thought, closer to her age. Despite his sharp scowl, he was handsome.

She wondered what a lone man was doing, wandering through wolf territory. He was lucky to be alive. If the wolves had smelled his blood, they would have devoured him.

He was so closed off.

“I can help you. I can treat your wounds and prevent any infection. I can even accelerate the healing process,” she offered. Willow reached for his shredded shirt.

“Do not touch me!” he snapped, swatting her hand away. A growl echoed through the cave.

Willow reeled back when the man’s eyes glowed in an inhuman way.

Calming herself with a deep breath, she positioned herself on her knees, resting her hands on her thighs. She bowed her head slightly, showing him she was harmless.

“My name is Willow Casper. I’m a witch of the Blood Moon coven. You know of witches. I don’t know if you’ve heard of my people. We are a very powerful coven. If you’ll let me, I can tend to your wounds,” she offered.

The stranger scoffed and shook his head.

“You and your people have already done enough,” he spat.

Willow raised her eyes, creasing her brow. “Are you… are you accusing a witch of inflicting these wounds?”

Witch violence wasn’t unheard of. In most cases, it was a rogue witch that had left their coven. Oftentimes, they had been corrupted and poisoned by dark magic, like curses and hexes.

The man rounded on her, eyes wild. Then, he sighed. “No, it was not a witch who did this to me.”

“Then let me help. Based on the amount of blood you’ve lost, if you don’t get some help, you won’t make it to morning.” Willow pointed to the bloodstains on the cave floor.

“And what will you do to heal me? Cast some spell that will turn me into a toad?” the stranger snarled.

Willow giggled. She bit her lower lip and covered her mouth, trying to conceal her mirth.

The stranger tilted his head to the side. His lips twitched.

For a moment, Willow thought his defenses were lessening.

“Animal transfiguration is very complex. I would need more than what I carry on my person to do that. Besides, how would turning you into a toad heal you?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Then how will you help?”

“Magic is a lot more than incantations and turning people into animals,” Willow explained. She untied one of the leather pouches at her belt, one she kept filled with healing herbs. “Take your shirt off and lie back. I will show you.”

She scooped up a handful of herbs and held them out to him, showing him they were just dried plant leaves.

The man narrowed his eyes and sniffed at the herbal mixture. His eyes widened slightly and he gave a nod.

Wincing and breathing heavily, he managed to pull his torn shirt over his head. he tossed the ruined garment aside and laid back on the cave floor.

Willow glanced over his sculpted, muscular chest and arms. Even though his skin was torn and there were patches of dried blood crusty over his chest and abdomen, Willow couldn’t tear her eyes away from his beautiful form.

She’d rarely ever been alone with a man, let alone one that was shirtless.

Swallowing audibly, Willow focused her eyes on the stab wounds, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered.

“I’m going to pack these herbs into your wounds. They will create a thick poultice that will stop the bleeding, minimize pain, and heal you faster,” she explained.

She kept a water skin on her belt, too. With her free hand, she brought it to her lips and pulled the cap off with her teeth.

“It might sting until the numbing effect kicks in.”

“It can’t hurt as bad as it already does,” the stranger muttered. With another wince, he put his arm behind his head, propping himself up slightly.

Willow glanced at his face.

His features were pinched like he was concentrating really hard.

She poured water over the herbs in her hand, clasping and unclasping her fingers to mix it into a poultice. With practiced hands, Willow packed each stab wound with a generous amount of the herbal poultice.

Her patience winced every time it touched his skin, but the numbing agent worked quickly.

Once all his wounds were filled, he sighed and relaxed his arm, letting his head fall back.

“Ronan,” he said in a ragged whisper.

“I’m sorry?” Willow asked. She flicked her eyes to his face again.

He had his eyes closed; his breathing easier than before. “Ronan Dexter. That’s my name.” Lazily, he lifted an arm and pointed at himself.

“It is nice to meet you, Ronan.”

“Perhaps you will not think so when the sun rises,” he said, a predatory grin spreading across his lips.

Willow’s stomach twisted and she inched away from him. She looked toward the mouth of the cave. Already, the forest was turning gray with the rising sun.

“The sun is rising,” she said.

“What!?” Ronan gasped, his eyes snapping open.