Witch

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Ever since I was a young boy, I had been told stories about the Witch of the North.

She was said to be evil, and employ dark powers to do her bidding.  It was she who called down winter upon our lands to freeze our crops and try to starve us.  She was said to be a beautiful creature, except for her eyes.  Her eyes were said to be black pits, reflecting no light and housing no soul.

It was said that she was the only one of her kind.  She had been born in a blizzard to a heathen couple who had still worshiped the old gods, and so in some way deserved the hellish creature that was born that day.  It was said that she killed them in her cradle days after her birth.  The frightened villagers had turned her out into the snow, but she lived and learned magic from the demons who lived in the forests in the far north.  And with that magic, she terrorized everyone who came near her.

It was said that she was always searching for something.  Her entire life she spent combing through the woods and the snow-covered plains, searching for something she couldn't name.  Some stories whispered that she was searching for a husband, a man as dark and twisted as she.  Some said that she was looking for a powerful spell - a spell strong enough to bring eternal winter upon the lands.  And others said that she was looking for her soul, for the hour she drew her first breath, it fled from her.

But no matter who told the story and no matter what form the witch took, it was always said at the end that we were never to go looking for her.  No matter how dire our family's need was, we were not to ride to her lands in the far north, for she was a cruel creature and felt no pity for the misfortunes of men.  No length of sharpened iron could save us from the witch's wrath, it was said.  You would need magic for that.  And magic was forbidden.

I must admit, I was never a stickler for the rules.

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