The Unordinary Life of the Enchantress

Chapter Eight: The Insolence of Zel

Hearing his cry, the Enchantress's head spun to look in the direction of her apprentice. Following his startled gaze, she saw the child's open eyes and immediately stopped stirring her haphazard attempt at a soup. She dropped the wooden ladle into the pot and shuffled closer to the pair.

The Enchantress reached out and rested her hand on the little girl's forehead, anxious to see whether or not their attempts to warm her had worked. Noticing her skin to be significantly warmer than its prior, ice-cold state, the Enchantress gave a relieved sigh and removed her hand, leaning back into a comfortable position. She looked to the child, realising that the little girl's attention was fixated on the boy. With her clouded eyes, the child stared, unblinking, at the apprentice, as if considering his persona and reaching into the depths of his mind with her own.

Clearly uncomfortable, and very much disturbed, the boy gently nudged the child to move from his arms. Compliant, the little girl feebly climbed out of the researcher's caress and crawled towards the fire, edging closer to the Enchantress, who had continued stirring her soup. The Enchantress, noticing the girl's interest in her cooking, scooped some soup into the ladle and tentatively guided it towards the girl.

"Here," the Enchantress said softly. "You must be hungry."

Without so much as turning to acknowledge the Enchantress, the child grabbed the ladle's handle and drew the steaming cup towards her lips. With little hesitation and seemingly no regard for the scalding hot liquid, she immediately gulped the soup down, leaving the Enchantress and her apprentice to stare at her in shock. The child held the handle out to for the Enchantress to take and sat with her hands on her lap, awaiting more of the boiling broth.

Taking hold of the ladle, the Enchantress ladled some more soup and slowly edged it towards the child. Without fail, the child, once again, grabbed the ladle handle and brought it to her lips. This time, she blew over the ladle's lip before mercilessly gulping down the hot soup, returning the ladle as she chewed on some pieces of pepper that had been captured from the pot.

"Boy," the Enchantress said, turning her head to look at the boy. "Would you mind scouring the kitchen for a few bowls?"

The boy's gaze flickered from the child to his mentor, his mind slowly registering her request. After a moment of unfocused staring, the apprentice quickly nodded, scrambling to his feet and scuttering towards the kitchen.

Clunks and clangs were heard from the kitchen as the researcher clumsily foraged for dishes and the Enchantress chose to fill the wait by staring at the child. The child, who was so chatty and keen to converse when she lured them to the cottage, now sat in complete silence, licking her lips and leaning towards the fire as she pulled the Enchantress's coat tightly over her frail shoulders. Her greasy hair almost glowed in the firelight, bringing attention to the significantly dulled tangles and knots that matted her hair from the edge of her ears and down. Her face was dirty and stained with grime, with visible particles of dirt clinging to her lashes and eyebrows.

"So," the Enchantress started, awkwardly trying to talk to the child. "Do you have a name?"

To her disappointment, the little girl did not respond. Instead, she faced the fire and appeared to ignore the Enchantress. Noticing this, the Enchantress cleared her throat, lifting the ladle and continuing to stir her soup. She continually glanced at the child from the side of her eye, wondering if she could ever coax some information from her.

"How long have you been here alone?" the Enchantress pried, tilting her head to get a better view of the girl.

Silence.

The child and the Enchantress sat quietly until the apprentice returned. He approached the two, clambering out of the kitchen holding 3 wooden bowls, each one chipped and one cracked through from one end to another. The Enchantress found herself wondering if the bowls would be able to hold her broth, or would it slip through the cracks?

The boy sat by the child, handing the pile of bowls to the Enchantress, who gingerly laid them out by the pot and began to ladle some soup into each one. She took the bowl which was least broken and handed it to the girl, who snatched it out of her hands and began to hungrily drink. The Enchantress then lifted the cracked bowl off the ground and reached over to hand the leaking dish to the boy. He chose it, he can drink from it, she thought to herself. The boy nonchalantly took the bowl and the Enchantress witnessed the crack seal itself as he drew it to his lips. Clicking her tongue, she filled the remaining bowl and began to sip at the mildly bland meal.

The apprentice, uncaring for the Enchantress's little trick, immediately gave his attention to the little girl.

"Hey," he called. "Are you feeling any better?"

Unlike her adamant disregard for the Enchantress, the little girl turned a little to face the researcher, giving him a little nod. The boy grinned, giving the child a little pat on the head.

The Enchantress watched this interaction in disbelief. The child who didn't so much as acknowledge her presence was now interacting with her apprentice!

"So," he started, hunching his shoulders in an attempt to meet the girl's height. "Do you have a name?"

The little girl tilted her head, considering for a moment before shaking it.

"I... I don't remember," she whispered, her raspy voice a barely audible croak.

The apprentice nodded, his brows knitting at sound of her sickly voice.

"Would you like us to give you one? Temporarily, if you'd like," the boy offered.

The Enchantress looked at him in confusion. Name the girl? Why?

The apprentice looked up to meet the Enchantress's gaze, giving her a smile.

"What do you think we should name her?" he asked.

The Enchantress shrugged. "Maybe something just as strange as her," she offered.

"Ah, come on, now! Don't say that!" the boy scolded. "She should have a good name, it's a part of your identity after all." He looked back at the child, humming while considering her for a name.

Hearing this, the Enchantress scoffed. A rude and insolent child, she scorned, a strange name is more fitting. She watched as the boy waved one finger in the air, as if trying to summon a name from it.

"How about... Zel?" he offered.

The Enchantress gave him a puzzled glance. "Zel?"

The boy nodded, smiling proudly at his suggestion.

"Zel," he repeated. "It means special- and she is quite special!"

The Enchantress gave a short laugh, special indeed. She turned her focus to the little girl.

"What do you think, child? Would you like us to call you Zel?" she asked.

The child hesitated to answer, but slowly nodded, a smile creeping onto her features.

Zel's moment of happiness was short lived as her ill state seemed to catch up with her, causing her being to wobble and drop the empty bowl. Her eyelids fell shut and her frail form slumped onto the ground, her arms dangerously close to the fire.

In a swift motion, the boy grabbed the child and pulled her away from the fire – wrapping her in the coat and holding her gently in his arms. He shared a look of fear and concern with the Enchantress- neither were sure whether the child would make it the night, or if they would be able to get her to a healer in time.