The Stray

The Forest Witch

If Timothy's head was a book, it had fallen open to two blank pages. His mouth opened, closed, opened again, and just sort of hung there as he stared up into the tree. Well, now what did he do? The witch felt a stab of embarrassment. Aw, frass, am I really worse at talking to kids than life-draining smoke monsters? Apparently, yes! The last time he'd seen another being up this close had been, oh, about seven years ago, so on the one hand, he couldn't really blame himself. On the other, he was supposed to be a darn witch!

Oh, he'd spoken with plenty of strange things in his time here, from monsters to spirits to plants. But all of them were different from talking to another twolegger. Beasts were easy, 'cuz they basically just wanted what he did; to be safe and fed. But with people... Timothy didn't even know where to begin, except that the last few times he'd met a person, they'd tried to kill him. Or capture him to kill him. Or alerted someone... so they could kill him. His stomach churned, and he swallowed hard.

Okay, okay, calm down and think, Timothy, he scrambled in his mind, maybe she's like a nightwinder? They both have scales and fangs and all. Ugh, no, that's dumb, cuz otherwise I'm like an humoggi. Argh! Gimme a colony of spiders any day!

Plus... these days, he didn't bother trying to cover up the Lusundra brand on his forehead. He had the symbol of the world's evillest dragon burned into his face, angry and foul as the day it'd surfaced. It was like a livestock brand, but it would never heal or even be bidden by his fur. He could hide it with a rag, but what was the point? It wasn't like the monsters cared. And even covered up, if he got too overwhelmed it tended to activate itself, and the harsh light it let out shone right over any covering. (It would also alert pretty much every critter around.)

Okay, no, focus! Timothy managed to dig up enough calm from somewhere in his very short witch training to have a real look up the tree. And his heart just fell. The poor thing was shaking so bad the leaves were rustling, and she was still hidden, cocooned in her wings. He could hear her whimpering, and her scent had only grown more sour and burning and sharp from terror. Crap, she probably thought he was hostile after that whole conversation-- especially since she had only understood his half. And she was so tiny! And probably cold and hungry, the poor thing. I'm an idiot. Timothy set his jaw, and took a deep breath.

"U-um, hello up there!" He winced at the sound of his own voice. It didn't sound much less growly than before. It wasn't a problem talkin' to monsters, but to an already terrified little girl... yipes. Her ears popped out of her wings like they were on a spring, and she slowly, shiveringly swiveled them onto him.

"Go away!" she squeaked. Oh, poor thing, she was trying to sound brave. His heart hurt. Timothy smiled encouragingly, before he wondered... Wait, could full dragons see in the dark? D'oh. He almost smacked himself. With a small sigh, he flicked his wrist, and let a pale red flame bloom into being over his hand. Making even this much light in the Deepshadow made him fidgety, but he didn't have much choice if she was to see him.

"It's okay, littlun, I ain't gonna hurt you." Timothy's voice came out softer, gentler this time. "I came because I heard you screaming."

The dragoness's shaking began to slow a little, and she poked her eyes out above her wings. She blinked into the light, and a silly part of him sat up and pointed out that she did have two sets of eyelids, like in his granny's stories! And she had little bitty twist horns, like a goat!

"Y'mean it?" Her voice was a little lower, but still shaky and high.

"I promise." And this time his smile came out more natural. "Here, lass, come down into the light before you fall an' hurt yourself."

She didn't move to climb down, but she did relax her wings. "Who are you?"

"My name's Timothy. I'm sorta the local witch." He waved a little. "Don't worry, I'm the nice kind, more'r less."