The Green Witch

Chapter Seven

     The wind began to die as Tala trudged slowly and miserably to town, and half way there it started to rain. A hard, driving rain that found its way inside her coat and plastered her hair to the sides of her face. Soon she was treading her way through a rapidly flowing stream of water that followed the road, hiding the depth of potholes until she stepped into them and sank down to the ankle. Soon her feet were just as wet as the rest of her and her boots squelched with every step. In her current frame of mind, though, she barely noticed. She walked like a robot, virtually asleep on her feet. Her body working automatically while her mind hid away at the back of her head as if hiding from a predator in a cave.

     She would probably have walked right through town and back into the countryside on the other side if Sam, the apprentice blacksmith, hadn't seen her and, driven by curiosity, crossed the street to see her. "Tala?" he asked. "We weren't expecting to see you today. Everyone thought through rain would keep you home."

     When Tala didn't answer the fifteen year old moved closer, suddenly concerned. "Are you alright?" he asked. "Tala? Come on, let's get inside. You can dry off and... Has something happened?"

     "My house burned down," said Tala numbly, not pausing in her steps.

     Sam stared. "What?"

     "My house burned down. A branch fell from a tree, right through my roof and broke an oil lamp. The whole house burned down."

     "Oh my God! Are you alright?" He examined her, staring at her face, looking for burns. "You're bleeding," he said. "Come on, let's see Grady." Tala didn't seem to hear him, so Sam took her gently by the arm and steered her towards the house of the healer. Tala went without protest, still seeming barely aware of his presence.

     Sam thumped on the door, then opened it and put his hand on Tala's back to gently urge her in, yelling for help. Grady appeared from a back room and took in the scene at a glance. "She says her house burned down," said Sam, still staring at Tala with concern. "She must have walked all the way in the rain."

     "Are you alright?" Grady asked Tala, taking her coat and laying it across the back of a chair. He stared at the cut on her face, then went to the sink and wet a cloth in a bowl of water. He came back and started wiping the soot and blood from her face. "Just a scratch," he said. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

     "No, Tala replied. "I'm fine."

     "You're not fine. You're cold and exhausted. Ethel!"

     His wife appeared in the doorway. "I heard," she said. "I'm warming some soup up. Come on dear, let's get your wet things off. You'll feel like a new women when you're warm and dry."

     "Give her a quick examination while she's got no clothes on," her husband told her. "She may have injuries she doesn't know about."

     "I know how to care for a patient," Ethel replied brusquely. "Haven't we been treating the sick and injured for forty years? Come on, my dear. Let's go to the back room. No windows."

     Tala followed her, still walking as if in a dream, and Ethel closed the door behind her.

☆☆☆

     Half an hour later, dressed in some of Ethel's spare clothes and gratefully spooning soup into her mouth, Tala finally began to feel herself again. She was tired, but near enough back to her right mind to begin thinking about how she was going to make a new future for herself. So her house had burned down. That was bad, but she was still a schoolteacher. She had a source of income, and she could get another job to help make ends meet. It might be nothing more than serving drinks in the tavern, but in her present circumstances she couldn't afford to be choosy.