Elise Runs and Dorothy Falls

Chapter 5

She'd had a horrible dream. On a trip to Mirborne Harbor, pirates attacked her train, killing her parents, and when a talking crab tried to lead her to safety, a witch stomped his head in. Then, when she tried to steal a boule, a police officer tried to arrest her but couldn't, because she had magically turned invisible. None other than the witch had saved her.

"Ugh..."

Looking around, Elise found herself lying atop a small, mousy bed with a patchwork quilt. What was that smell? Smoke?

"You've been sleepin' almost a day."

Above her, visible in the uppermost story of the shanty on an armchair, sat a girl pretty beyond her years. She wore a skirt with suspenders and a blouse, a sock on her head, and over each leg a most familiar stocking patched and sewed from what must have been six or seven whole stockings once upon a time. Her red eyes peered from behind golden bangs splayed starkly. However, those eyes did not look back at her. The witch had a pipe in her mouth that terminated in a small bowl.

"It wasn't a dream..."

"What?"

"Never mind. Th-thank you... for saving me. You did something to me, didn't you? So they couldn't see me?"

"Ye."

Elise slowly sat up. The witch walked down the stairs, which passed near the foot of the bed, and made her way to the ground level. She'd left her pipe smoldering on the drawer upstairs.

"Well aren't you going to say something?"

"Me name's Dorothy Blainwick, and I risked a lot stickin' me neck out for ya like that. Who are you, anyway, and what were you doin' in that old ruin? Or here, for that matter."

Elise's face flushed angrily. "If you don't want me, I'll leave. I can take care of myself." Slipping back into her shoes, she stomped down the stairs and toward the front door.

There was no front door.

"What sort of mad house is this?!"

"It's me home." Dorothy, the witch, began to ladle some stew into a bowl.

"May... I have a bowl, please?"

Dorothy handed her the bowl.

"Thank you..."

"Tub and toilet in the basement." As Dorothy said this, she filled another bowl and carried it up the stairs to her loft, where she apparently preferred even when keeping company. Elise sat down at the table near the brick fire.

"Why doesn't your home have a front door?" Elise asked after a moment eating.

"Don't need one," returned the voice of the witch, a voice that sounded very different than her own. It wasn't just the distinctive accent. She sounded rather boyish.

"How could you NOT need a front door?"

A scoff. "I'm a witch, or hadn't you noticed?"

"Yes, I think I have," Elise retorted, "although since you keep running away I haven't really been able to tell for sure."

"Were the hat, no shoes, magic wand, and weird house really not enough?"

"I've never met a witch. It's not like they all dress like you, anyway."

"Wrong. You really are new here, aren't you?"

Elise continued to eat her stew.

"Were you... on that train?"

"...Yes."

Leaning forward, pipe smoke obscuring her eyes, Dorothy spied Elise sitting at her table downstairs. The girl had brown hair and grey eyes, and despite childish features could look no more dignified in how she sorrowed. She held her head high. Despite this outward appearance, though, she knew the girl had seen and done very little in her life. On the other hand, Dorothy was savvy and streetwise—a wizard and a fighter—and she had done many things in a long thirteen years.

And yet, she couldn't for her life figure why she had risked everything to save this girl. Obviously she had a lot more growing up to do than she thought.

"By the way, my name is Elise."

When Elise looked up again, Dorothy quickly looked at the book she didn't read.

"All right."

The witch couldn't for her life figure why she couldn't say anymore.