I walked farther inside.
Cobwebs waved hello from the ceiling and corners. A large cushioned chair sat in the back corner, just beside the fireplace. The wood crackled and popped. A bound bundle of herbs lay in the fire, the leaves barely burning. This was where the scent outside came from, and if I was right, it was sage.
I leaned against the mantle, too tired to stay upright. The owner wouldn’t leave this fire unattended for long. They’d be home soon, and I didn’t want to frighten them. My side screamed when I let go of it, so I clutched my ribs again and tried to keep my breaths shallow. I limped to the cushioned chair and eased into it.
My ribs were on fire. A throbbing pain had pounded through my shoulder and arm all day, and though I saw no wound on my ankle, I knew something was wrong. Breathing through the pain, it eased somewhat. Before I knew it, it dulled enough that I could close my eyes. Rest was what I needed. Sleep was healing.
When I opened them again, early morning sunlight spilled through the vibrant window panes. The fire still flickered, and the bundled sage still burned. How has it not been consumed already? The only tracks across the dusty floor were mine, and nothing had been moved as far as I could tell.
Movement caught my eye across the room, but when I looked, no one was there.
“Hello?” No answer came. I gritted my teeth and sat up. “I’m sorry to intrude,” I apologized. “I was injured and needed shelter for the night.”
My stomach sank when I thought of my parents. A search party had probably been sent into the dark forest. I needed to find a way back and above the cliffs. If I could borrow a horse, I would pay the cottage owner back tenfold when I returned home.
Stiffness had set in overnight, and everything on my body, muscle and bone alike, ached when I stood and hobbled across the floor, retracing the dusty footprints I’d made last night. Just as I neared the table and chairs, a black cat jumped onto the table and hissed, her back arched, fur standing on end.
Swearing, I tensed and jumped, my ribs screaming from the movement. I stood back, panting through the fire in my middle, staring at it and it at me, until finally the feline relaxed, leapt from the table, and began rubbing its body against my legs, back and forth in a figure eight. She purred and I released a pent-up breath.
“Where is your owner?” I asked.
The cat meowed and scampered through a cracked door that lay just beyond the table. Swallowing, I wondered if someone had come home last night and didn’t want to wake me. Would I be wise in waking them?
It had to be done. I needed to get home as quickly as possible, and only a person who knew these woods could help me. Perhaps he could lead me out of here.
I limped into the darkness behind the cat. “Hello?” I called out tentatively.
No one answered.
Dark, heavy drapes hung over the window. Despite the light from the main room, I could barely see past my nose. It was like the darkness in the room chased away every trace of daylight. I made my way to the window and pulled the drapes aside, letting the sunlight in. Beneath the window was a writing desk. The cat, black as midnight, hopped up onto it and purred, nudging my hand with its head. I petted it for a moment and turned around to see a large canopied bed... and a woman in a dark dress floating three feet above the mattress, fast asleep.
chapter four
PHILLIP
I closed my gaping mouth, trying to reason through this. Trying to make sense of her.
Am I hallucinating? Am I still lying at the bottom of the cliff, dying?
The woman’s dark hair was so long that the curled ends touched the mattress beneath her.
She’s floating. Levitating in midair.
My heart began to thunder. I was in too much pain to be dreaming. How could this be?
With quiet footsteps, I made my way toward her and ran my hand beneath her hovering body. There was nothing there. Only air.
Remarkable.
There was but one explanation: she was a witch.
The witch. The witch of the dark forest.
This is insane.
I raked my hands through my hair, pulling at the roots and releasing it.
How is this possible? Witches aren’t real.
Rolfe was scared out of his mind when he neared the border. He mentioned this woman, saying she’d boil our skin away or something equally disturbing. But this woman, this young woman, was beautiful. I eased closer and stood on my toes to get a better look at her.
Her ears were pointed at the tops, her skin was pale, and her lips were full, the color of ripe plums. There were two scars slashing through her right eyebrow, but even with them, she was beautiful. They had healed into delicate lines, curving to resemble crescents.
“Miss?” I said, trying not to frighten her.
I tried to nudge her shoulder and called out to her in a loud voice, but she never answered and she never woke. The only sign that she was alive at all was the shallow rising and falling of her chest.
For six days and nights, she hovered over her bed fast asleep. I tried to wake her every way I knew how. First I tried to nudge her shoulder, and then I even gently tugged at her silken hair. I stomped around the room, through the house, and put the cat on her stomach. I even shouted at her to see if I could rouse her.
Part of me was scared she would wake. If the stories and superstitions about the fae were true, she could kill me with a single glance. But if I didn’t try to let her know I was here, a trespasser by all accounts, and she found me in her home, she might kill me just for being here.
When even a cold rag wouldn’t rouse her, it became clear that nothing would. So I left her alone, occasionally peeking in to see if she was still there... and she always was.
The fire burned, never needing more wood, and the sage never burned away. I drew water from her well out back to cook with and to bathe as best I could. There were no animals except for her cat, no horse to take, and I couldn’t walk or climb out of here yet. Not that I knew which way to go even if I were able.
Deciding to stay put and heal as best I could, the cat and I became fast friends. Each day, she would bring me a gift. A mouse, chipmunk, ground mole, and once a large, green Luna moth. She was particularly proud of that one. I ate from the witch’s small garden outside, feeling guilty with every swallow. It was obviously grown with the intention that only one person would be eating from it, but I reasoned that I could send food from the palace’s stores to replace it.
Slowly, the raging inferno in my ribs faded to a flickering campfire. At night, I could rest. I was getting stronger. Soon, I would be able to move about much easier. I could leave.