Witch Hazel

Prologue

When the Hunter had first come to town, the girls had stood up on the parapets to watch him ride in. The men working below had shied out of the way of the large chestnut destrier that thundered into the courtyard, as if they could catch old magic as he passed. The four of them were women to the rest of the world, but as Anna looked back on the memory she realized they were still girls yet. They had clung to each other, wide eyed as this stranger dismounted in the middle of their home.

Perdale wasn't the smallest of towns, and Perdale Keep wasn't a tiny keep per se. But strangers this far west weren't common. The ones that did come were merchants, players, the occasional mercenary band...and even those came seasonally on schedule.

One could have said it was this that caused them to follow him with their eyes. But it would've been untrue. The Hunter was broad shouldered and draped in old leather covered in the scars of past adventures. Even dismounted he was a head taller than the tallest man there, yet broad shouldered not lanky. When he tied up his horse and strode toward the great hall, the stablemen and dogs alike moved out of his way. It was this otherness, this sense of danger that drew their eyes. Recall, they were yet just girls.

She was the tallest, her legs the longest, so she was the first one to scramble down the stone steps to a balcony where she could eavesdrop on the main hall. Out in the world Anna had seen many beautiful clothes, but back then her new cloak was the finest thing she'd ever touched. So she had clutched at it as she listened, feeling the crushed velvet in her fingers and the adrenaline of new things.

Her father was standing by the fire. From up high she could see he was balding on the crown of his head, though all his hair remind a rich auburn. The women of the keep had always told him to avoid purple, that it clashed with his bountiful red beard. But he'd always insisted on it and today was no different. The clash of bold colors popped, bright as ever against the paved floor.

The Hunter had walked up to him then. Their initial exchange was lost in the scuffle of boots on stone as Anna's friends caught up to her.

"Shhh." she remembered saying, but it had been too late. The Hunter had already turned on his heel.

She'd remembered the soft noises of disappointment they'd made since he'd never removed his hood. Maybe it was how tense she'd been, everyone had been, over the past week but in the moment she snapped at her friends and left the hall too. As if they were to blame.

Children had gone missing, one a night for the past month. Their small bodies had turned up in the snow, unclothed with their teeth missing. At first the town had driven out the Players, because theatre folk were prone to all sorts of predilections and sicknesses. But then after the next one had gone missing, the villagers had turned on their own. They had stoned poor mute Mr. Faliday to death, saying perhaps he was looking to find a new voice for his withered throat. The children had continued to go missing. It was then that whispers had swirled in the streets, before gathering mass and floating up to the keep.

"Witch." they had said. And loathe though he was to do it, when an aging blacksmith had come saying he knew how to reach a Hunter, her father had summoned one.

Anna had stolen a saucer of milk from the kitchens to take to the attic, and leave for Pixies. It was there her father had found her.

"Pixies again, Anna?" His words, normally a light-hearted tradition were weighed with heavy thoughts. She could see them furrowing his brow.

"You know how mom said it," she had said, pushing the saucer behind one of the rafters "Take care of the old folk and they'll take care of you. But it's superstition, nothing more. You and I know it's stories for children, but if you're sending a Hunter out after another children's story villain then I thought I'd hedge my bets."

Her father's frown deepened.

"You know when you were born you caused such a ruckus your mum would say you were a changeling. You're lucky she didn't leave you out in the cold for the fairfolk to take."

"I guess you're lucky I wasn't a changeling or perhaps the Hunter would snatch me from you after he's done with the witch." She'd smiled then, expecting to see him smile back at her jest.

But he hadn't.

And she'd learned that the Hunter would snatch her after all. Relics of an older time didn't always demand payment in the form of gold. This time, this relic needed a wife.

THE WEDDING

They were married that night in a chapel by candlelight. It was a small affair done furtively, bashful if not shameful. Anna had known that as a Laerd's daughter her hand was a commodity, but hadn't expected to be bought so cheaply.

She wore a white lace dress. He knelt next to her. She could smell the oils he used to keep his armor supple...musky but herbal like sandalwood. Before exchanging vows finally pushed back his hood with calloused hands.

Shadows along the Hunter's tan cheekbones danced in the firelight. Steely blue eyes looked straight ahead at the holyman, thin and wide mouth an unyielding bow. She didn't know what she was expecting but he was young. He was human. He wasn't handsome like princes drawn in her storybooks.

He was gentle kissing her in the chapel after they exchanged vows, just the barest touch of a kiss. He was gentle too, in the bedchamber with the lights off. He was done, and then gone shortly thereafter.

She'd lain there, alone, until morning.

A/N: You made it to the end! How about a ★ to show some love?