Night Witch

Chapter 24

This new part of the Forest looked completely different than the one she'd been in before.

Well, not completely. It was the same type of trees, the same sort of thorns wrapped about them and covering the ground. But at the same time...it wasn't.

The thorns lay less thickly on the ground, and looked more like wood than the ones she was used to. She could see more of the sky here; the canopy of trees was far less thick. But the trees themselves were the most drastically different thing; instead of being the blackest thing she'd ever seen, seemed almost gray now. They were still a very dark color, but she could now see a red undertone beneath them. Almost like seeing blood beneath the skin of an almost corpse.

Blood...isn't...that bad...

Her skin crawled at the thought. Was that herself thinking that, or was it Lilith? The fact that she couldn't identify who it was made her skin itch even more.

She'd wanted blood, once. The blood of the evil Moracians on the ground, Duras' head on a stick. You still want it, Karina.

She cringed. My freedom is my revenge my freedom is my revenge my freedom is my revenge. Maybe if she repeated it enough it would be true, and the doll would stop whispering horrid somethings in her ear.

Your revenge is the murderer's death.

Her heart hammered. Hans is good Hans is good Hans is good Hans is better than Lilith Hans is better than Lilith...

Karina! Hans...is...a...traitor...a murderer...a...Moracian...

She brought her hands to her temples and pressed against them, remembering how Lilith's voice had faded into a buzz once she had done so. The harder she pressed the more silent Lilith's voice became, so she pressed against her skull until dark spots were blurring her vision. It was an odd relief to be able to think on her own again, a feeling that made up for the stiff aching in her long fingers. Her thoughts were her own again.

Well...enough.

She scanned her environment, finding a vine with small, dark flowers on it easily enough. It twisted around the tree as though it was trying to conquer it. She easily plucked a dark purple flower from it, rolling it around between her fingers. Its petals were softer than a piece of gossamer silk.

She held it up to her eye. It was the shape of a brassy instrument she'd seen once at Trader's Day: thin at one end and wider at the other. Only It was much smaller, only the size of her pinkie fingernail.

Was she supposed to eat all of it? Or just a petal? Did Nyx ever specify?

Perhaps it was best to just eat one petal...

She tore off one small petal and placed it on her tongue. It tasted like ashes as it melted in her mouth.

Then, everything changed.

Her head was suddenly pounding, not with voices, but with bright colors and noises. She had once thought that the Forest of the Dead was silent, but now she could hear everything. The dry snap of branches and thorns, the slight breeze that ruffled her hair and the leaves above, the movement of her skirts, the clink of the flask on her shoulder...all far too apparent and far too loud.

And the colors... Ancestors, she could distinguish every color even beneath her closed lids. All too bright no matter how she shielded her eyes.

She pressed her lips together. They felt more chapped and rough than she had ever remembered. And Ancestors, she could feel so much. The scratchy thickness off her bright red hair, the heaviness of her skirts against her skin, every drop of sweat that clung to her skin from the summer heat, the pain of all her cuts and bruises. Every sensation was heightened.

But there was no way to find Baba Yaga with her heightened senses. The flower wasn't guiding her--if yet, at least.

She popped the rest of the flower in her mouth, crunching it with her teeth until they were stained red. It tasted less like ashes now, and more like mud. Once, Helga and Gertie had shoved her face into the dirt after a rainstorm. It tasted like tears and muck and snot then, and now it tasted like sweat and blood and dirt.

Oh... Ancestors!

She doubled over, feeling as though she had to retch. Her stomach was in turmoil, a tornado in its own right. Was this, she wondered through the buzz of her new senses and the pain that consumed her middle, how Hans had felt?

"Ughhhh..." A new hit of pain. She could feel blood rushing through her body, the air through her windpipe and lungs. She could feel everything.

She couldn't--wouldn't--take another flower if this is what it felt like every time. It was too painful to consider, and she needed to get there fast to avoid Nyx's wrath.

Let's get this over with.

She opened her eyes again, wincing with the sudden onslaught on her vision. This time, though, it was different. As she looked back down to the ground, she could see vague imprints of what appeared to be giant chicken feet on the ground. Around them, there looked to be bread crumbs and seeds.

The flowers would guide her...and since she couldn't see the footprints without the flowers, she had to follow.

She ignored the pit in her stomach and began to run along with the chicken feet.

Hey, everyone! I realize that this is a remarkably short chapter (sorry!) but I can assure you that the next chapter will be longer! And far more plot significant, although there are some pretty important hints plot wise here. Any thoughts as to what they may be? ;) (Now might be a good time to look back at the fairytales this book is based off of!)

If you enjoyed this chapter, feel free to click that little gold star on your screen, and I'll see you next week!