The Making of Witches

Chapter 4

For days Lore wandered through the woods, swiftly changing paths when she came across a town. It was getting harder and harder to avoid civilization though, and the woods were getting sparser and sparser. Sometimes she would catch a glimpse of a house or too, even maybe see a person hunting around their home for game. Lore's own hunting skills were horrific. The only way she could ever catch anything was by incinerating everything in its vicinity and hoping the fire would kill it before it could run away. That meant everything she ate was blackened and crunchy, and there were only a few roots and shrubs she knew that weren't poisonous. She was also worrying that her unorthodox method of catching prey was making a rather obvious path for the hunters right to her. The giant pentagrams carving themselves into anything the fire touched didn't help either. In short, Lore was a terrible outlaw.

She sat by her tiny fire, using every bit of spare concentration she had to push down the rest of the blaze within her. Both the arms of her blouse had been scratched to nothingness and Lore made the executive decision to burn them off after the hanging rags caught on yet another branch and she crashed face-first into a bramble bush. The hem and underlayers of her long skirt had been mutilated by all the running through mud and twigs and god knows what. She had eventually burned off the bottom two layers and shortened it to halfway up her shins, spare threads dangling everywhere.

Night was fast approaching and Lore shivered in anticipation, knowing how poorly fitted she was for such conditions. The first few nights she had spent in the woods had been the coldest of her life and she had woken at least five times, her face red as a beetroot and her entire body shaking. She had thought about leaving the fire to warm her while she slept but quickly dismissed the idea as she couldn't control the flames in her sleep. Every time her eyes closed she saw the god woman calling out to her, begging for her to find her. With every dream, the image got clearer and Lore could make out warm, fiery skin and eyes filled with flames.

Something rustled in the bushes behind her and Lore spun around, her hands at her side clenched in fists. Through the darkness she could see almost nothing. Lore tentatively got to her feet and let her mind drift towards the flames, ready to call the power if needed. She tiptoed towards the bushes, which had fallen silent. Each crack of the branches beneath her feet sent shivers down her spine. She peered into the bush, her heart beating so fast she thought it would fly out of her chest.

Lore fell back in relief to find nothing but a squirrel jumping around, which quickly scurried away up a nearby tree. Stress had almost left her heart when a hand clapped over her mouth and a strong arm pulled back fiercely.

Lore screamed into a stranger's palm, lashing out with her legs and arms as hard as she could with all the enraged panic of a wild animal. Her hands reached out frantically, making the shapes needed to summon a blaze that would incinerate her attacker where they stood but her arms were pulled back so brutally her scream echoed throughout the woods. It was similar in agony to the one she had cried out when Emmerie had died.

A proper witch's scream.

A voice whispered in her ear and Lore's heart almost leapt through her ribcage. But before she had time to ponder her face was forced into the dirt and her hands were being tied behind her back with the most brutal efficiency.

"Get off me! GET OFF ME!" Lore screamed as the hand was withdrawn from her mouth. She bucked and thrashed to no end but her efforts were futile and she was hauled to her feet and punched brutally in the head. She cried out, falling to the ground once more. A blurry face leered at her while another searched the area around her fire for any valuables. As her vision cleared she could make out a girl and a boy, each barely older than her. The girl sneered, kneeling on Lore's chest as her tiny braids of limp hair swung around. Her dark skin was littered with cuts and filthy bandages. Her knee continued to dig and dig into Lore's skin and she cried out at the pain, knowing it would bruise later.

"Dumb move coming into Swift's place without a permit. Wonda what she'll do with a pretty girl like you." The girl's voice was rough yet showed her age- she sounded far too young to even be in her 20s. A flash of steel flew through the air and suddenly a knife was being pressed against Lore's throat as she gasped for air like a fish of water. Panic and dread were running a marathon in her mind as Lore racked her brain for what she'd done wrong, any way to get out of this. She was alone and completely out of her element and with her hands tied she couldn't access the fire-bringing magic that would save her from this bind.

The other boy approached, his scarred face scrunched up in a wicked snarl that the girl returned before grinning at her prisoner.

"Nothin' 'ere, Keelin. This chick ain't gotta thing to 'er name." Lore growled at him, a horrible, monstrous sound.

She wasn't "this chick".

She wasn't a weakling to be dismissed.

She was a powerful firebringer who would burn down the world if she could.

She was not "this chick".

Keelin snorted at her, pressing the knife deeper into her neck, just enough to nick and Lore glared.

"Ooh, gals got moves. It'll be fun to see Swift wring them outta ya." Lore's eyes widened in terror, but also in curiosity. Two mentions now of this mysterious Swift and she already commanded such fear. The boy beckoned Keelin and she hauled Lore up, never moving the knife away from her throat. "Move girl, or I will cut your pretty lil' thoat."

And maybe it was the adrenaline that made her rational mind take a nap. Maybe it was the sleepless nights full of fear and strange dreams. Maybe it was the terror that had driven her mad. Maybe that was why she replied with a sarcastic grin,

"You think I'm pretty? I'm flattered."

And for a moment the girl blanched. For a moment a sense of strange power rippled through Lore and made her proud of her tiny rebellion. For a moment Lore felt maybe not so hopeless.

Then Keelin clocked her in the head.