The Witch & The Witch Hunter

3

A disembodied whisper echoed throughout the vast nothingness. Like some celestial bell ringing in a starless night sky. Though she still felt the grip of death held her tightly, the witch awoke. Her vision blurred, she could make out the warm glow of a fireplace. The shadows of wooden rafters danced upon the ceiling above. Attempting to focus she sought out the strange whispering coming from somewhere in the room. From what she could make out a figure sat with both elbows lent upon a table; hands clasped in prayer. He sat at the end of the bed she had now noticed she lay in. The witch let out a sharp nasal breath, alerting the person to her sudden consciousness. "Be still" said a man's voice "you are yet barely alive". The witch hunter, pushed the woman's head back down on to the pillow as she attempted to lift it. "Rest" he affirmed, the witch seemed to concede as she slipped back into unconsciousness.

Now it seemed the hunter had another matter to put to rest. He opened the cabins door to a group of around seven people - twas the entire village. Their low mumblings came to a sharp halt when they beheld the stern face that greeted them. "Thou'st need of me?" The hunter said gruffly. The same villager that had greeted him crept forward, seemingly the elected mouthpiece. "Well, master witch hunter, you see we have decided we aren't comfortable with that... thing in our midst. I mean when you asked for bed and shelter we thought you meant for your own use. We thought ye'd come to rid us of her, yet you tend to her like a chambermaid". Containing his frustration to a clenched right fist, the hunter eyed the man with a sharp intensity. "I have given you your church back have I not? And I will not linger long, I need only for the witch to answer some questions and I will be gone". The crowd, though seemingly dissatisfied with his reasoning, dispersed. Yet the village leader remained for a moment longer and in a hushed tone imparted "it's bad luck I tell ya, master. Do not let her weave her dark temptations upon ye, lest she steals your soul".

The days passed by in a way one can only liken to a leaf swept away in the rapids. Time was inconsequential. The witch would continue to wake on occasion and would always see the dark figure praying at the end of her bed, never moving from place. Because of this she assumed she was continually waking upon the same day, though in truth weeks had passed.

Upon the morn of the twentieth day, the witches eyes flickered open and she was aware. She sat up and felt the ache of nearly a months stagnation bite at her bones. Her diaphragm contracted and she let out a mild gag. "Be still" the hunter said once again as he approached the bed. For the first time since her rescue the witch observed the mans face. It was indeed he who had driven her out, he who had shot her. As her fury spiked she lashed out and pushed the man away with great force, though he merely stumbled back a pace or two. "Away!" She shrieked. The man gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes towards heaven, attempting to be as diplomatic as he could. "Calm yourself woman" he growled "I wish only to speak, what is your name?" The witch, though a fraction calmer was no less hostile. "Thou hast no need of it, so ask me not!" She snapped. The rage of the hunter was almost visibly bubbling, what was he even doing? He considered if his asking of these strange questions was worth all this bother. Once again the witch recoiled in great pain, this time cradling her head as it began to pound and pulsate. The hunter inhaled in an attempt to calm himself "enough - rest some more, you remain unwell". "What is happening?" The witch questioned, still grasping at her temples. "You probably struck a rock when you fell" the hunter said simply as he sat back down to his table. As she slumped down onto her side, the witch was perplexed. Fell? She thought. When had she fallen? After a seconds confusion she remembered the sensations of being tripped. The disconcertion of her bare feet lifting away from the leaves and dirt. The burning of rope on uncovered skin. The mind shaking impact as she fell upon the ground and spun uncontrollably. The men, those horrid men whose very presence felt malignant with their beastly staring that was so invasive and perverse. But she remembered then relief. How her heart was so gladdened by her saviour. Though now she grew suspicious. Why would a natural predator such as he, whose murderous intent was so great as to break through dark magic would even consider saving her was beyond reckoning.

As more time passed and the days grew steadily brighter, the witch regained some of her lost strength as the hunter continued to feed and tend to her. Though they had, in an unspoken agreement, decided not to speak with one another at all. As conversation did not come to either of them naturally. Though when it did, it never ended well. The villagers by now no longer troubled themselves with the pair. They simply went about their days neither directly helping nor impeding them. On one such sunlit morning, the witch decided she would finally attempt to walk once again. Mayhaps she could sneak away in the night. After gently lowering her foot to meet the floor she pushed forward. Immediately she dropped back down making some archaic exclamation. "Here" said the hunter, extending an open hand to her which was instantaneously batted away. "Do not touch me" she snarled. "Very well, foul doxy. Tend to thine own well being". She had swatted away the olive branch and hence marooned herself to bed. She didn't even know why she'd done it, it was more out of habit at this point. She didn't feel as thought she hated him as such. "Wait" she said, the hunter turned and offered his hand once again. His skin was course and scarred, yet she felt no threat or ill intention from him, she felt almost safe. Resting upon his side, the witch was walked out the front door and for the first time in what felt to be an age she felt the sun on her skin. It was like a nourishing wave that poured over her whole body. "God's glory is profound, is it not?" The witch hunter murmured, obviously experiencing the same warmth. "Where are we going?" The witch asked, choosing to ignore his question. "The river" he answered. "For what purpose?" She pressed. "You stink". It was then she realised that without even noticing, the witch had become dependent on the hunter and could no longer survive without him.

Later that night she sat in her bed and observed the hunter pray with a puzzled expression affixed to her countenance. "Why did'st thou rescue me?" The question was like a rumble from within a mine shaft, disturbing the silence and disorienting the hunter with its peculiarity. He had spent weeks pondering that very same question. Yet in all that time he had yet to come to a sensible conclusion. He parted his hands and turned to face her. "My reasons concern you not" he said dismissively. "Hah, and to think thine intentions are as impure as those woodsmen" she said. "Do not compare me to those godless scum, heathen. Lest you forget to whom you owe your life" he answered. "Then why do I owe you my life?" She demanded. "I don't know!" He exclaimed. There was a short silence that seemed to reset the temper of those concerned. "I was poised to strike thee down as I have so many others. Yet I could not" he admitted. "I have delivered unto Satan his followers more times than I may recollect and not once did I waiver in my divine charge. Yet with thee my hand was stayed by some unknown force that I do not understand. My place in gods plan has always been to purge the wicked, yet it seems in his great wisdom he has seen to change my destiny. For when I raised my sword I sensed no evil and could not deliver his retribution". "Liar!" The witch interjected "you saw a fair face and thought you might partake in my body". The hunters fist slammed down upon the small table splintering one of its legs, infuriated he grasped some invisible thing and squeezed. "Why must thou test me so?" He said. The witch unfeignedly saw the fury in his eyes, she felt the same sense of danger as she did within the church. For the very first time she felt as though she had truly overstepped. She lowered her eyes in submission "I - I really am sorry". The hunter simply recovered the broken table from the floor and let out an extensive sigh "you are forgiven".