To Kill a Witch (ONC 2024 SHORTLIST)

Chapter 6

Thea slept poorly, jerking awake in fits and starts, her heart pounding as though she'd been running blind in the shadows gathered in the corners of her dreams. Each time, she saw the same thing, a slither of sunlight, a spiderweb waving leisurely back and forth in the corner, and the gleam of Wilf's eyes as he turned his head toward her.

When she finally woke properly, the evening sun was staining the wood of the loft a soft pink, and Wilf was curled up in a small black ball against her leg, breathing deep. His paws were over his nose and his tail was draped across her knee. Thea resisted the urge to scratch behind his ears. He looked almost like the stray cats she, Ridoc and Ada used to lure in with scraps of meat from their lunches behind the school, and sit with breathless excitement petting and cooing over them till the schoolmarm came to give them a scolding. Nothing like a wicked witch's familiar.

The scent of woodsmoke and cooking meat drifted up to her from somewhere down below. Thea's stomach flip-flopped over uneasily. She massaged the stump of her arm as she righted herself, the muscles in her back tight and cramped from resting propped against wood. She dug into her bag for a strip of willow bark and bared it between her teeth. She wanted to stave off the pain before the night's voyages continued.

When she slid down the ladder into the main rooms, she saw Lae tending the fire and a blackened cooking pot. The old woman's face crinkled up still further when she noticed the bark between Thea's lips. "Willow?"

Thea paused for a moment. The old woman's eyes drifted over her body, frowning. When they alighted on her sleeve, turned over with no hand to complete it, her mouth pulled back into a small, humourless smile. Thea pushed the bark back behind her teeth. "Yes."

"Ah." The old woman returned to her pot. "I have some herbs that help with pain, if it is bad. And a tea that calms the nerves. It tastes foul, and may burn the taste from your mouth—"

"I am not in need of a drink." Thea said hurriedly, almost angrily. She'd been forced to drink something very similar when they had first found her, and before that, when Pa had died. She swallowed back a sudden burst of nausea brought on by the memory of the searing, bitter heat of it being poured between her lips. "I'd rather remember being alive than half-dead on unfeeling."

"Aye, I understand." Lae said, picking up her ladle. "Wise, especially for one traveling alone."

Thea glanced up toward the loft. "I am not completely alone."

"Are there some coming along soon?" Lae asked.

"No."

The woman pressed her lips together as she turned away from Thea. Despite all her niceties, Thea felt a prickle under the skin at her nape. There was something highly unnerving about this woman, about this place. Who lived unprotected in a wood such as this? Even the walls of Lae's home were absent of gorse or the lucky iron charms that were gifted as a wedding present in Devil's Corner, and she was certainly old enough to believe the superstitions, even if magic to her as a child had been a thing of stories.

Thea moved toward the door. "I need some air."

"Of course." Lae nodded. "Don't stray too far though, dear. The night comes in thick around the woods. Better to stay by the square. There'll be a fire going soon enough, and Gareth will be playing the crwth. It's a Watch Night, you lucky girl."

She said this with an almost meaningful smile. Thea held her silence as she slipped out of the house. The title held no power to her.

The encampment was preparing for the night. The cries of mothers calling in their wayward children, who paused in their games to stare at Thea as she passed, the faint barking of an angry dog somewhere on the edge of things, and the raised voices of a couple embroiled in argument. The further into the middle of the encampment she walked, however, the more carefree the air became. A great clapping and stomping fell upon her ears, and as she turned a corner into a small, slightly sunken square, she heard the opening notes of a song.