Witch Of The White Wood

Frequent visits

I met Butters when he was fourteen years old, at the crack of daylight when the sun was just teetering over the horizon, the birds hadnt left their nests and the fireflies were returning to their happy homes. He came stumbling out of his house with tired, dreamy eyes and watched me from afar for hours. Not daring to come close or make me stop my song. I knew he was there, i could hear his light yawns and soft sighs of contentment. When i adressed his presence he stepped into the light with rosy cheeks, his night attire still clinging to his sleepy figure. Leopold sat with me, talked to me. He didnt press me for details or beg any questions of me, he let me say things in my own time. He would timidly ask to hear another song from me and listen with easy ears at whatever i spoke, a flush rising to my face as he praised my every sound. He was patient, gentle and sweet.

I met Stanley at early light, when the sun was already set in the sky, when he was thirteen years of age. He begged to be closer, catching my attention immediantly and startling me. He was demanding and friendly as well as outspoken and forward, always jumping to conclusions and letting feelings rule his heart. As we spoke i felt at home, i could relate to him, i understood him in a way. Whenever my eyes met his i felt my heart stir, he was a gentleman. Helping me over logs and around small streams or walking ahead to make sure it was safe for me. He was brave, honest and comfortable.

I knew the two were crawling the forests each night in search of me, i would leave faint traces of me behind, from locks of hair to footprints. But i was too afraid, what if they knew who i was and no longer wanted to associate with me, i knew i couldnt avoid them for long. How my heart yurned to reach out to them and make them aware of my prescence. It wasnt until the all too familiar tuft of blond hair turned up at my castle gates that i had to overcome my fear.

Butters was wounded, a thick gash covering his right eye as a shard of metal embedded itself into it, he was a wailing mess, blood pouring down the side of his matured face as he clutched at it, Fairies clinging to him as they carried him through the gates. They said they found him in the forests, i needed to see him. Make sure he was ok. It wasnt until the cut was cleared and the metal removed that we woke him from his sleep. Dosing him with strong magic to knock him out and numb the pain. I wanted to make sure the first thing he saw when he woke up, he needeed it to be me.

He looked so peaceful as he slept, tucking my finger around a blonde curl and pushing it away from his pale, flushed face. He took deep breaths in through his mouth as he dreamt of the wonders of the world. I felt a smile cross my lips as i thought about what he may be dreaming about as i sat myself on the side of his bed, staring down at him as my long fingers ran through his soft hair. I felt it snag on a knot and noticed a slightly pained look cross his angelic features as he began to stir. Placing my hands back i waited as his aqua orbs peered at me through his thick eyelashes, the eye which had been impaled a light grey tone as the healing our people did stripped the colour. I gave him a gentle smile as he startled, sitting up quickly and stuttering and spluttering to try and adress my appearance. His hand outstretched and pointing at me in disbeleif as his shocked gaze moved towards a happy grin.

"It's you!" he exclaimed as i moved to examine the damaged eye. His cheeks heating up as my face drew nearer to his, his eyes darting around my attire and figure until they rested lightly on the golden circlet on my head. "I found you." he whispered, but his gaze soon snapped away to my lips as i gave a quick retort.

"Actually Leopold it seems like it was I who found you." I smirked at his blush as he fingered the skin around his eye with reddened cheeks, feeling the thin stretch of skin that covered his eyelid to the slit in his eyebrow he sighed. "What happened to you?" i begged, his face filling with an emotion of conflict, he wasnt entirely sure himself. Butters began his tale, keeping the details most gruesome and vile, drinking in the short encouragment to continue i offered him. He was a lucky man indeed, face to face with a horde of Elvish warriors known for thir tenacity and might and only suffering a blow to the eye. I felt sympathy for the Elven men who fought against him. Raising a hand to trail across his scar he flinched at the contact, the broken silk of his reddened face brought a pain to my heart.