The Forest Witch's Home for Magical Creatures

Chapter 10: Everything to Worry About

Of course, the witch has nothing to worry about.

Wren had everything to worry about. Historically, having witches touch his wings had always ended in pain.

Of course, the witch wasn't worried. It wasn't her blood, skin, or feathers being used in potions.

Was she naïve or just stupid? Did she not realize the amount of power she could have by taking from his already ravaged wings?

Or was she just that good of an actress? He looked over her face for any hint of deceit. Her round face was open and earnest. Freckles were scattered all over her skin. The tip of her nose and the apple of her cheeks were blushed pink. And her eyes were bright, and green and kind.

Disgusting.

The little witch seemed genuine, but he had been wrong before. Witches make good liars.

He nodded anyway. Maybe he was the naïve one. The witch's face lit up with the force of her smile. He reminded himself that he could always kill her after.

It made him feel a little bit better.

She handed him a towel. "You need to dry off a bit."

She gathered her potions and spell work and moved it to the middle of the room. Wren dropped the towel on the floor, spread his wings, and shook himself dry.

Water droplets flew from his hair and feathers all over the floor and the couch. It hurt like hell, he could feel the skin around his wounds stretching, but it was faster than using a towel. Feathers have natural waterproofing that helps prevent the underlayers from getting saturated with water.

The moisture just gathered on the top layer which made it easy to shake off. Making a mess in the witch's house was just a bonus.

Instead of grumbling about the mess, he heard her snort as she laid the canvas out.

She was talking. He could see her mouth moving as she gestured him over. He couldn't hear. The blood was rushing to his head. His pulse was echoing in his ears. Sweat gathered on his temples as he walked over and sat on the spell work.

He could feel her talking and moving behind him. He was hyperaware of every breath she took, every movement she made. He heard the sound of a jar being opened and he knew what was coming but was still fully unprepared for her to reach out and touch his wing. His body jerked, then froze. Every inch of him tensed up, ready to bolt or fight. He couldn't breathe. He remembered the chains. He could feel them around his wrist. He could hear their laughter as they peeled the flesh from his wing. He could smell the dampness and gore of his cell.

Every one of his senses focused on where the witch was touching his wing. He braced for pain, unable to move.

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Looking back. Massie should have been able to tell that something was wrong. After shaking the water off his wings, Wren wasn't the same. He was never very talkative, but the silence coming from him was painful.

She filled the quiet the way she always did. She talked about everything. She told him what she was going to do before she did it. She explained the spell work on the mat. She told him the tonics she would use and how he would hopefully feel a difference pretty quickly.

He said nothing. He didn't nod or twitch. He just stood there with his eyes locked on her every movement.

She was surprised when he came over and sat on the mat. She wasn't focused on how tense he was. She was in complete awe of the wings before her. Even with the damage, they were beautiful.

She opened the first tonic and poured it on some gauze and didn't think twice before she reached out and pressed it to a small hole in his left wing.

She noticed the change immediately. The body in front of her turned to stone. It felt as if all the air was zapped out of the room. His fear was palpable.

The severity of the situation hit her. She was so concerned about helping him, that she forgot where he got his wounds from in the first place. Yes, he got injured by witches. But not in a fight. In captivity. Where they chained him up and used him for potion ingredients. They took from his body to increase their power.

She can't believe that she lost sight of that. She put Wren in a position where he was scared. Scared that she would continue where the other witches started. He was frozen in front of her because he expected her to take his feathers, blood, and skin and use it how she pleased.

She was so filled with sadness that she didn't think she would ever be happy again. She slowly took her hand away from his wing and wiped the tears from her face.

She took a deep breath and relaxed her body. She would wait for him to feel safe. She wouldn't be another witch who touched him without his permission.