Awakened

Chapter Two - Potion Preparation

When evening came and the golden sun had disappeared behind the rooftops, Witch Wendel opened the back door. Star opened one eye and peered at the witch from between her paws.

"Get in, y'lazy beast. I need to finish the potion." Witch Wendel glared at Star, who crept out of her box and slunk across the yard.

She darted through the back door, dodging the witch's helping foot. The cauldron was boiling on the open fire. Witch Wendel still did things the old-fashioned way, although with modern stoves there wasn't really any call for it. The smell of old grease and burnt porridge pervaded the cottage.

Star didn't care how the witch made her potions. She just aimed to survive each day as it happened. Crouching in a corner by the fire, she morphed back into her human form. As she'd spent most of the day asleep, the energy drain wasn't too bad this time.

Witch Wendel strode over to the cauldron and sniffed eagerly. She took a long poker from the fireplace and stirred the brown, bubbling mixture.

Star took a step back, hand over her mouth, as the smell of unwashed feet arose from the potion's surface. The witch didn't tell her anything about what her potions did, but she'd bet anything this one wouldn't have a pleasant purpose.

The witch dressed in the traditional way, long black cloak and black boots. She even wore the standard pointed hat indoors. Star often wondered if she dressed that way to try and convince herself she was a better witch than she really was. Surely, if the potions were that good, Witch Wendel wouldn't be living in such poverty. People were wary of witches, as it was, and if the potion wasn't guaranteed to work, no wonder she didn't sell many.

"Get the ingredients, furbrain." The witch jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

Star bit a retort back and took the pouch off the mantelpiece.

"Sprinkle the ash over the top while I stir," ordered Witch Wendel. "When I start chanting, drop the wing in, then add your energy to mine."

Star held her breath and moved closer to the noxious mixture. Witch Wendel stirred the potion smoothly, barely breaking the surface. Star scattered the ash over the top.

Witch Wendel set up a low chant under her breath. Star couldn't make out any words. She'd long given up even trying to understand magic. She dropped the wing in and prepared for the climax.

The only magic Star possessed was in her necklace crystal. She focused on the black gem and directed the energy within towards the potion. The witch closed her eyes, still chanting.

A green wisp of light floated from the witch's body into the cauldron. A black shadow of energy came forth from Star's crystal. Green and black combined on the surface of the potion. A bright flash whipped across the cauldron's surface and a large bubble rose and popped in the liquid. The potion faded to a light brown colour and the smell diminished.

Witch Wendel opened her eyes and grinned with satisfaction as she continued to stir.

Star staggered on the spot and her knees gave way. The crystal's power was somehow entwined with Star's own energy, and now it was severely depleted. She dropped to the floor, every limb heavy.

"Get out the way," the witch snapped, carrying a jug over to the cauldron.
Star crawled into a corner on hands and knees and pressed herself against the wall. The witch proceeded to fill mason jars with the finished potion, ignoring Star.

She closed her eyes and laid her head back on the wall. Every time she helped with a potion it seemed to take her longer to recover. How much longer could she go on like this? What kind of a life was it? The clinking of a ladle made her open her eyes. Half a dozen jars were now neatly filled and sealed.

Star never saw any money from the few the witch did manage to sell, despite being instrumental in the process. It seemed to be the lot of familiars. A potion couldn't be completed without a tiny bit of life force from a witch or warlock, and some crystal energy from a familiar. But the witches were the ones who reaped the benefits. They just used their familiars up.

Bircher's offer of freedom floated into her mind. Maybe it was false hope. But Star realised she had to find out now that the seed of freedom had been planted in her mind. This stinking cottage couldn't be all there was to life.