The Forest Witch's Home for Magical Creatures

Chapter 3 : Wren

This was not going the way he expected.

When he felt the witch start to move towards his location, he was ready for a fight. He's dealt with his fair share of witches. The whole reason he was hiding in this forest was because he was on the run. He got captured by a small coven. He could handle the torture, the bloodletting, and them ruining his wings. The worst part of being captured was the captured part. He longed to be free and to roam. He played his part. He whimpered when they sliced him open. He begged when they plucked his wings. He played the broken part well. Until the opportunity presented itself, he punched his fist through one of the witch's throats and fought his way out.

The few remaining witches were not happy with how he tore apart the other members of their coven. It took a while to clean the blood out from underneath his talons. Massacres were a messy affair.

He was prepared to rip this new witch apart too. He picked the perfect glade for the ambush. It had tall trees surrounding it where he could perch up and attack the witch from above.

Wren was not prepared for this witch. Who has a freaking grizzly bear as a familiar?

He was ready to maim and kill the witch of the forest but he was not ready for Massie.

Massie: the 5ft something, a barefooted witch who walked into an ambush with a smile on her face and flowers in her hair. His plan changed. Instead of running his claws through her, he threw her across the glade. He lost sight of her as the grizzly bear attacked. Then suddenly she was standing between them.

And he hated her. He hated the magic that had been following him since he entered this cursed forest. He hated the denial that fell from her mouth.

He hated the blood dripping from her button nose.
He hated the dirt smeared across her soft jaw.

He hated the fear in her mossy green eyes.

He hated this forest.

Then the little witch got down on her knees and swore to his safety. Blood dripped from her face and she swore his safety with such conviction the ground rumble. What a foreign concept. He can't remember the last time he felt safe. He's spent the last 50 years running from witches and humans. He's been hunted and hurt by more people than he could remember. And he's done his fair share of hurting himself.

Would this pretty witch still kneel before him if she knew how many witches and humans he'd murdered? Would she pledge for his safety if she knew how easy it would be for him to rip open her throat?

He studied her. He couldn't feel any ill intent coming from her, but some witches were good pretenders. He wasn't sure if he could kill her and the bear while his wings were still healing.

Her round face was dirty, her curls were in disarray. Most of the flowers had fallen out when he flung her to the ground. He couldn't trust her. She was a witch after all. He could play along and take advantage of the safety she offered.

If she did anything to go back on her promise, well, he could just kill her.