Even Though I'm Not

I finish bandaging up the fawn's leg. It is surely broken. Laying it down on my straw bed I walk outside. Spring is in the air making it smell sweet. I look down at the village I once lived in. The village I used to call my home. It's not anymore. This hut on the hill is now.

They forced me to leave. People I thought were friends threatened me. People I thought were family turned on me. Because they think that I am a witch. I am most certainly not a witch. They accuse me of spells because I have a gift to heal. They say I look like a witch because of my jet black hair and olive skin against all the other ladies of Scotland's red and fair. If I had not fled they would have burned me at the stake. Just like they did to my dear Grandmama. She could heal too. They called her a witch. So they killed her. Then suspicions turned on me. I got taunts and threats. So I decided to leave. Start a new chapter to my life.

So I came to this hill. I built a small hut. This all happened six years ago and I have been living here ever since. For food I go down to the village at night and take some. I don't leave until I have left some coins or other things in return. I am not a witch and I am not a thief.