The Forest Witch's Home for Magical Creatures

Chapter 25: The Trees Move

Wren had completed twenty wood carvings. He had carved more but the first handful were so pitiful he threw them away. His hands were splintered and his floor was covered in wood shavings but he had something he could sell at the market. He could contribute to this make-shift family he'd been forced into. He gently traced the curves on the little wood wolf he carved.

Sneaking into the witch's workroom was so easy, it was almost sad. There were no wards he could detect and the door was unlocked. The room was in disarray. The closer it got to the start date of the market, the more the witch oozed nervous energy. She fluttered around like a lost little hummingbird, making sure everything was ready to go. She even got the boys roped into it. She had them painting rocks, of all things. Those same rocks she was gathering when she idiotically got trapped and damaged by shifting stone.

It was a human thing to hide these adorned rocks for other stupid little humans to find. She told the boys they could paint them and go out and hide them for others to search for. Unfortunately, they ate up her unique brand of insanity and were now excited for the market to start. It was draining being around such excitable people all the time.

Her working space was half haphazardly organized. Every jar was labeled but he couldn't discern a pattern in where they were shelved. He just needed an oil or wax to seal his wood carvings.

He was ashamed to admit, but he wanted the little witch to be impressed. He wanted to hear the stutter of her heart when she was shocked, the intake of breath she had when surprised. He wanted to see the appreciation in her eyes.

It made him sick. How far he had fallen, seeking validation from a witch.

He took a jar of linseed oil and one of beeswax. He would see which one complimented the wood the best.

The witch didn't question him when he walked out of the hallway that led to her workroom. She looked at him from where she was painting rocks with the warmlings and smiled at him. It was a familiar smile, one that reached her eyes and made her face bright. She didn't question what he was doing coming from her space. She trusted him. Trusted him to live in her home and to be in her workspace alone.

Wren wasn't sure what he had done to deserve the trust of the witch, but the burden was heavy.

He used washcloths from the bathroom but made sure to grab the ones that were frayed with age. He left the pretty pastel ones. He was meticulous as he coated a little rabbit carving in linseed oil. He used beeswax on a raven carving and left them on the windowsill to dry.

Later that night he checked to see which finishing complimented the wood the best. He lifted both to the light, turning and twisting them from every angle. He felt the wood to see how the finishing wax and oil affected the texture. The linseed won over the beeswax. He spent the next few hours finishing his carvings. When each one was done, he went to the dresser home to his collection. A small carved bear lay in the drawer, amongst the pebbles and stones, with the shiny coins and bones.

His hands had started carving it without thinking. The witch was always in his mind, like a parasite using him as a host. He carved her familiar, taking more time on detail than he did with the other carvings.

It was foolish of him. Just as it was foolish to give her the pink piece of granite. It was the start of something he couldn't finish. A promise that couldn't be kept. The witch could not be his chosen. Dragons don't pick witches, not that there were many dragons around to disapprove of his choices.

It was just common decency not to involve himself with a witch. For ages, witches have systematically used and abused dragon-kind. This wasn't a fairytale. Her bright eyes and warm smile wouldn't heal years of generational pain and trauma. His reluctant affection for her wouldn't take away the damage witches had done to him. His broken family, his empty nest, the scar across his body, and his damaged lineage.