Blood of My Blood

Chapter 1

A/N: I own nothing but my own characters and ideas.

"Please," Mira begged. She had never begged on her knees before, not for anything but she would now, whatever she needed to do. She could only hope the old woman before her would listen to her. "They told me you would help me."

The woman stared at her for a while, unmoved by pleas. There were many a man or woman that came begging on her door. Mothers pleading for the lives of their children, men who needed a good crop this year, girls who yearned for the love of a boy. The woman sniffed, turning back to her mortar and pestle, ignoring the request. It was clear this girl had no money, she hadn't even any soap from what it looked like.

"Go home girl, you've nothing to offer me. Drink red leaf tea if you're in a family way, your mother could have told you that, and pick wealthier lovers."

Mira shook her head, wiping her nose on her jacket, undeterred. She had spent days in those woods before she'd even found the farmer that sent her here, frightfully shouting the direction for her to take, not bothering to even hear her out. If this woman could help her in any way at all she would not be sent away, not without answers.

"You don't understand. I cannot go home, I-"

"I am not a boarding house." The witch said, hands slapping against the worktable, sending power into the air. She made a scoffing noise, as if the loss of particulates was Mira's fault, and made to shoo her away. "There's a tavern about a day's walk form here that will take women in your state."

"I'm not pregnant, I'm lost." Mira tried again.

"Go back the way you came then."

"I can't! I don't even know how I got here." Satisfied she'd had enough of the herb ground up the woman poured the contents in a container and started again. At the very least these menstruations allowed her to release her irritation. She wondered briefly it was worth tossing her a tea blend and telling her it was just what the young woman needed if only to get her to leave!

"Where are you from, girl?" The woman asked after letting out a long sigh. She couldn't lie about her craft, but she could give her directions back to her own home at the very least. These woods were no place for someone like her, especially not a night.

"Portland," she answered, the hope that swelled softening the old woman's heart. Just a bit, until she started spewing out words faster than she could hear that. "Mira is my name, Mira DelMar, I was going to work. I was driving, I was supposed to be at work! I think...someone hit me I think, I don't know but I have to get home. I just need a phone, just to call home. I need to make sure my daughters ok, please, I just need to call my daughter. That man said you would help me, he wouldn't even listen to what I had to say but i-"

"Stop!" She shouted, cutting Mira off from her ramblings. She frowned, staring at the basket of dried herbs she was certainly not going to get to and motioned for the woman to stand, pushing away the basket with a huff.

Mira stood, hugging herself and trying desperately not to word vomit everything that had happened. The older woman tied her thick greying curls back and then set to work, grabbing this jar and that, adding bits of each to the kettle of boiling water. Another look at Mira and she added a second large pinch to the concoction. Eventually she poured out the tea, setting the cup down with a little more force than was necessary, motioning for her to drink with a wave of her hand.

"What is it?" She asked suspiciously, staring into the contents of the cup, the floating herbs clinging to the sides.

"Tea." The woman answered, hands on her hip. "Chamomile for your addled nerves and lavender. A little something extra for the truly disturbed."