An Unexpected Destiny (Completed)

For a Spell

Ingrid the witch will not quit muttering to herself as she gathers things for the reversal spell. Her incessant chatter is beginning to get on my nerves. She goes through her cupboards in her kitchen tucked behind her workshop and sweeps jars of herbs and things I don't want to know the names of into a satchel as I stand there with my sword in its sheath. My hand rests on the hilt. The crow is silent as it hides behinds its wings from my stony gaze while it sits on the dusty table in the middle of the kitchen. Dusky light reaches in through the three windows between the cupboards.

I feel kind of guilty for scaring the bird so much, but my cheek has just finished bleeding and is now scabbing over; I won't be able to smile for a week or so unless I want the pain of the scab cracking. Besides, after Merida is returned, the crow and I won't see one another again. If Merida did return. Ingrid reminds me every few mintues that Merida may not come back: she may have stepped out of the range of the boulder's influence. When she first told me this, I felt a spike of brutality rise up in me. I had been dangerously close to physically threatening her with my sword. Then I shook my head and hid the shock at this new side of myself with a blank face.

I don't know what happened to me when I slammed that board with the triad of spirals, but something nasty and ruthless shoved the usual aloof compassion and mercy in me aside. It scares the hell out of me. Just as the kickass fighter did when Alistair was being beaten up and just as the adrenaline-- of excitement, not fear-- that rushed through me when the company and I were ambushed. Was this normal? Sure, I had been defending myself and my friends all three times, and even with the witch I was-- right? I had to get Merida back, there was no doubt about that. But maybe I could have found a least violent way to convince Ingrid. Maybe. Maybe not. I would ask Jude-- if I ever saw him.

I scrub a grimy hand over my face. Thinking of Jude, I wonder if the company is in the glen, searching for me. I wonder if Dove is okay and not pacing a ditch. I wonder if I am going to be sorely disappointed and pay for it dearly. I wonder if Ingrid could shut up and start mixing her herbs and oddities together so I can see my sister again, if only for a short amount of time.

Ingrid shuffles to a squat door in a corner I hadn't noticed until now and tosses over her shoulder, "I'll need a hair from your head, lass, and something of the princess'."

"One strand of hair? And I don't have anything of Merida's." I follow her and have to get on my hands and knees to get through the door. The crow squawks after his mistress but stays put. 

When I stand up on a thin grassy turf, the sun blinds me. Tears pool in my eyes as the sun seeps into my soggy clothes and clomgating cuts. When the spots of white cease, I find the witch standing by a cauldron. Her eyes squint past the steam and into the pot. Her hand rummages in her satchel.

"Ye had better possess something of the princess', or this definitely shan't work," she says and tosses something into the cauldron. A green cloud poofs up and explodes above her. It reeks of turnips.

Oh shit, I think and shove my hands in my touser's pockets. I didn't have anything of Merida's. Panic replaces the coldness and my mind is quickly consumed with a new problem that doesn't have to do with ethics--

"Agnes!"

I whip around to find the cottage vanished and replaced with the glen. Jude and MacLeod are running towards me; the rest of the company are just dismounting.

Jude slides to a stop in front of me. His handsome face is flushed and his damp shirt sticks to him. A sleeve is torn at the shoulder.

"Hi," I say, as if there isn't a Halloween scene unfolding behind me, "What happened to you?" If I act cheery and nonchalant, then maybe I won't cry.