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04 February 2007 @ 01:46 pm
Allewyn remained silent throughout the duration of the ride. Where he was taking her she knew not, and she wouldn't ask. Attempts to escape would have been futile. After some time, she sank into the rhythm of the horse's pace, and closed her eyes. But she did not sleep. She felt weary and anxious. She worried about her grandmother. She thought about Thistle. She felt terribly homesick. After all, she'd never spent a night away from the glade and her grandmother.

Darkness fell as they reached the edge of the woods. Before them lay a large meadow, now gray in the light of a half moon. The knee-high grass swayed to and fro in the gentle breeze, eager to do the bidding of the wind. Perhaps not quite a half mile beyond the meadow, the land dipped and swelled, and Allewyn recognized clusters of homes built much like her own back in the glade. Some stood as mere shadowy shapes, forlorn and quiet, whereas she could see others that glowed happily with firelight. This must be a village, she mused somewhat bitterly. All this time, she thought, and the village was so close. She felt no thrill or excitement at the sight, only a wearisome ache that made her think of her grandmother. Tears stung her eyes.

Beyond the village, hills blanketed in green rose progressively, giants rivaling for the sky. Allewyn wondered whatever had possessed the earth to rise so.

A path suddenly appeared beneath the steel-shod hooves of Sir Calvin's roan, and soon after, a broad road. As they approached the village, Allewyn began to hear the sounds of voices, laughter, singing, shouting, and even music. A few people milled through the streets, but to Allewyn, it seemed like many. She had never seen so many people in her life. And after dark? Was there some kind of celebration?

No, in fact it was a typical night in the main taverns and streets of Faldin, replete with food, drink, drunken brawling and the occasional indiscreet pair of lovers in a hurry to finish their business on borrowed time. A group of cats fought noisily in the street. Allewyn grew tense. The sounds and smells were overwhelming to her.

Sir Calvin felt her abrupt shift. "Welcome to Faldin, m'dear," he grumbled, voice rusty with hours of disuse. Allewyn, still gagged and with bound hands, did not reply. But she had resolved herself to silence anyway, at least for as long as she could bear it.

Sir Calvin dismounted, reins in hand. Allewyn noticed that, despite the apparent revelry, people seemed to step away when he approached. He led the horse off the main street and into a small, gable-roofed barn; to Allewyn, it was nothing more than a large empty house that smelled of hay and horses.

She noticed Sir Calvin looking at her, which she took to be her cue to get off the horse. She slid from the back of the roan somewhat less gracefully than she was accustomed to, as her elbows and knees trembled from exhaustion. Embarrassed and angry at herself, she stumbled into an upright position.

"Now." Sir Calvin moved to untie her wrists and remove the inelegant strip of cloth from her face. Allewyn flexed her wrists and her jaw smoothly. Her eyes strayed to the rafters of the barn, to the cracks in the roof, and fell upon the open door they had entered, ten paces away. She risked a glance at Sir Calvin. He was fumbling with the rope that had held her wrists. Bags had collected under his eyes. He was tired.

Allewyn sprinted out the door. But the momentary indescicion of which way to go caught her off guard, and she next found herself falling towards the ground, propelled by Sir Calvin's substantial weight at her back. She fell with a thud, and Sir Calvin muttering curses on top of her. "Filthy whore," he spat, and delivered a hefty swing to the back of her head. Allewyn felt her chin scrape against sharp pebbles in the dirt. She dizziness swept over her. Oh, but she had tried to escape, hadn't she? And she had lost her chance, she thought angrily. Sir Calvin stood up, brushing the dirt from his trousers. He steadied himself, about to kick her in the ribs and then thought better of it. He leaned forward and grabbed one of her thin wrists, giving it a sharp tug. Allewyn cried out.

"I was beginning to think you had actually fallen mute," Sir Calvin chortled. "Get up, Witch Girl." He dragged her to her feet. Allewyn didn't feel strong or brave anymore. Whatever courage she had been left with had drained into the earth. She was scared and ashamed, and most of all, very alone. Tears streaked through the dirt on her face.

Sir Calvin squinted at her. "Wipe that blood off of your chin," he commanded. "I can't take you into a tavern looking like that." Allewyn did as she was told, using the back of her sleeve to blot the crimson. "Now, don't you go trying to run off anymore," he glared at her. "Or it'll be far worse for you the next time I catch you. And I will catch you," he emphasized. Allewyn's eyes fell to her shoes.

"When we go in there," Sir Calvin gestured to a well-lit and noisy building up the street, "you are not to speak a word to anyone. Witchery is a crime in Faldin that bears the price of hanging." Allewyn did not know what he meant by "hanging." Sir Calvin lowered his voice and glowered at her. "And don't give me any of that poppycock that you aren't a witch; I've seen your ears." He nodded. "So keep those hidden too, behind your hair." Allewyn didn't know what he meant about her ears, either, but she obediently pulled her tresses forward over her ears. "In the unlikely event that anyone speaks to you," he said, "you are to not respond. I will tell people you are a mute and a beggar, and that I found you on the roadside outside of Faldin." He gave her a satisfied smirk, and added, "You certainly look the part. If you wish, you can pretend to be deaf as well. I don't care."

With that, Sir Calvin turned and began walking briskly toward the tavern, leading Allewyn by her wrist.

Inside, the tavern was less likable than it had appeared. A fire burned the far corner of the room, where several boisterous men sat, laughing at their own drunken jokes. Tables, stools and men were scattered about, and along one wall there was a particularly long table, behind which stood a man wiping his hands on a yellowing cloth. Four or five men sat on stools at this longer table, drinking something frothy from wooden mugs and sharing two loaves of bread between one another. Allewyn noted that the place stank like horse sweat and leather and something else, a fermented kind of smell Allewyn couldn't identify.

Sir Calvin grunted and gestured towards a windowless corner in the room, where a table stood unoccupied. Allewyn drifted towards that table, looked back and discovered that Sir Calvin had met another man he knew. The two were exchanging friendly greetings. Allewyn realized she would be left alone for the rest of the evening. This came as a relief to her. She surveyed the table and stool critically, and after little contemplation chose instead to seat herself underneath the table and against the wall, so as to draw as little attention to herself as possible.

She found the floor underneath the table stained and dusty, but it didn't matter to her so much. Allewyn set herself at an such an angle that would be most conducive to a view of the goings on in the tavern, without being seen herself. She drew in her knees and spread out her skirts, set her arms on her knees and her head on her arms and closed her eyes, tired but unable to sleep. Her ears buzzed with the sounds of men eating, drinking, laughing, arguing. She could not distinguish a woman's voice above the din. Allewyn was bereft, and very lonely. Every voice sounded deep and crude and brazen.

"Hello, there."

Except that one.

Allewyn lifted her head slightly, and found herself peering into the face of a man, but he was very young. Or was he a boy? She had never seen a boy before, but she had heard about children. Whatever he was, he was young, quite young, perhaps not much older than herself. And he was of the male variety, she thought curiously. She had grown to very much dislike men recently. Allewyn's eyes widened as they adjusted to the light, inspecting the specimen before her.

"Why are you under this table?" the man/boy asked. His tone was not mocking; he seemed curious, and slightly sympathetic. Allewyn felt unsure. She hastily decided not to respond, but lifted her head and set her chin on her arms. The man/boy smelled like that fermented scent she couldn't identify. It became clear to her that he was crouching, and in his right hand, which he had set on the floor to steady himself, he clutched a wet, yellowing rag similar to the one she had seen the other man holding when she entered the tavern.

The man/boy smiled at her, but his grin turned worry when he noticed her chin. "What happened to you here, miss?" He extended his left hand, reaching to stroke the scrape on Allewyn's face. She instinctively drew back, shoes scuffing rapidly against the wood floor as she attempted to push herself futher into the wall, loathe to be touched by anyone at all. She turned her face away from him.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, sounding thoroughly embarrassed. "My Da is always telling me that I should think before I do things. I'm sorry, really I am." He paused. "It's just, I noticed you sitting here under this table, and I was wondering why you were hiding under here." Allewyn noted his word choice carefully. "I thought perhaps you were ill and I could get you something..." His voice wavered, he seemed to be loosing confidence in what he was saying. "That's a nasty scrape on your face there, if you like I can bring you some hot water and a clean cloth."

Allewyn mutely tilted her heads toward him and looked at him very sadly. Yes, she thought. Yes, I would like that.

"Right." The man/boy eagerly retreated from under the table, but not before clumsily knocking his head against it twice.

He returned with a wooden bowl of hot water with a white cloth floating in it. Allewyn accepted the gift gratefully by granting him an intense gaze before busying herself with the task at hand. Her onlooker sat back, keeping some distance between them now. Allewyn noted the distance he gave her appreciatively.

After some time, he began to speak again. "What is your name?"

Allewyn looked at him briefly and then continued to press the cloth to her face, pretending to ignore him.

"Is it true that you're a mute?" Allewyn looked at him again. Indeed, he had a lot of questions. He seemed quite friendly, but she decided it best not to answer this question just yet.

"Is it true that you're a beggar Sir Calvin found?" Allewyn shook her head. No. He seemed taken aback by her response. Had he thought she was deaf as well?

"How did he find you, then? How did you get hurt?" Allewyn gave him a blank stare.

The man/boy bit his lip and furrowed his brow. He appeared to be thinking deeply. There was something endearing in his efforts to discover who she was, but Allewyn wasn't ready to reveal anything yet.

"Did Sir Calvin hurt you?"

Allewyn nodded, apprehensively, slowly.

"Oh," the man/boy said. His eyes fell to Allewyn's muddied skirts, and then quickly to the floor. "He... he shouldn't have done that." Allewyn raised an eyebrow inquisitively. Why was this kind and curious stranger so abashed?

When he looked up at her again, Allewyn still had a blank expression, albeit, one raised eyebrow.

"My name is Atticus," he told her. "My father is the tavern keeper." Atticus turned and looked back towards the long table on the other end of the room. "I'm needed now. But I'll bring you something to drink and eat as soon as I can."

Allewyn nodded. Atticus. What a peculiar name. After he left, she let it roll off her tounge in whispers, trying to discern the nature of his name. The name sounded to her like it held a secret, somewhere in the fold between the last two syllabbles.

When Atticus returned, he found her indisposed on the floor underneath the table, a slumbering pile of homespun skirts and auburn tresses.
Current Location: Webster, MA
29 January 2007 @ 06:45 pm

Sorry folks, this isn't very long at all but, it's something. As you can see Lizzy, I completely avoided deciding if the grandmother lives or dies. Haha. What can I say. 

Allewyn stared at Sir Calvin in disbelief as he spat at her grandmother. He turned towards Allewyn and let out the chuckle of a satisfied dirty victor.

Allewyn slowly got to her feet, ignorant of the clumps of earth stuck to her skirt and tangled into her hair. She glared at him, a mix of rage and childish fear. 

"You." He pointed at Allewyn and smiled, revealing a set of yellow teeth. "You'll fix me that potion, won't you, dolly?" He stepped towards her, grinning. Allewyn trembled. Sir Calvin deftly reached for a corner of her skirt.

Allewyn started running. 

It was not quite a minute later that she head the sound of a horse crashing through the underbrush, and Sir Calvin calling after her. 

Allewyn knew these woods better than she knew her own reflection in water, but in a moment of panic she grew greatly disoriented. Her skirt caught on branches, her legs burning and bloody, she could not remember where she was. In that moment Sir Calvin found her, panting like a beast of burden against a tree.

Sir Calvin chuckled. "Stupid wench, just like all of them." From a saddle bag he produced a length of twine, as well as strip of wool, which Allewyn discovered was meant to bind and gag her.

"If nothing," Sir Calvin mused, "you'll fetch a nice price in the market. Such a pretty thing. Pity you had to go running off like that like blind pig in a rage." 

Current Location: Thompson Public Library
Current Mood: coldcold
19 January 2007 @ 12:04 pm
Allewyn had never before entertained a guest, and was at a loss as to what to do with her visitor. She decided it would be best to just ignore him, so with an indifferent shrug, she went back to her weeding. Thistle scratched in the dirt beside her, head cocked to the side, examining the freshly turned earth with a critical eye.

The stranger perched on the fence rail and watched. Allewyn could feel his gaze upon her, and it made her scalp prickle. She wondered if there was anything she ought to do, but her limited experience in the field of human interaction left her quite blank of suggestions.

"So you're a witch too, then?" he asked, breaking the silence of the warm summer air.

"No, I already told you, there are no witches here," she replied, "who told you so?"

"Why, everyone in the village knows it. What other reason could there be for an old woman and her young ward to live so far from everything?"

Allewyn pondered this. It was a strange thought, that people in the village knew of their existence so well, yet she had no idea who any of them were. It made her uncomfortable.

"Besides, you must be a witch, else how would you have a familiar?" the stranger continued.

"A what?"

"A familiar. Your rook. Only witches have the powers necessary to tame wild beasts."

As if he knew they were speaking of him, Thistle gave a disgruntled squwak, and speared an earthworm with his sharp beak.

"That's only Thistle! I found him with a broken wing and healed him," she protested, and by this time she was quite confused.

It continued this way throughout the afternoon. Periods of silence were punctuated by short bursts of conversation, whice usually devolved into accusations of witchery and the ensuing denials.

It was with great relief that Allewyn greeted the return of her grandmother. The shadows had grown long in the meadow when at last she spotted her laden form, emerging into the glade from the forest path. When she spotted the stranger, she quickened her pace as fast as her load of packages would allow, till at last she came to a halt.

Slinging her purchases down, she placed her hands on her hips. "Who are you?" she demanded of the man, "why do you come here?"

He hopped off the fence rail with ease, and stood before the old woman. "Sir Calvin of Three-Bridges," he announced.

He didn't bow, or make any other polite gesture, the grandmother noted with distaste. "I asked why you came here."

"To seek your services and knowledge of the secret arts. I am to fight a duel with a fellow knight, and I wish you to make a potion that will render me impervious to injury," was the reply.

"You will find no such potion here, as none exists. I don't know who told you that we possess knowledge of such things, for it is not true," her grandmother said, staring at Sir Calvin through narrowed eyes.

"Come now, you cannot expect me to believe such a lie! Everyone in the village knows what you practice!" Sir Calvin exclaimed. He was tiring of playing cat and mouse, and was becoming agitated.

"It cannot be done," the grandmother insisted. She would not be intimidated by this flashy knight with his imperious ways. He was obviously used to being obeyed by those he considered of lesser importance, but she would never give him that satisfaction.

"I am tiring of this, you ridiculous hag! If you do not stop lying and give me what I seek, I shall report you to the proper authorities! How would you like to burn at the stake, and the girl as well?"

Allewyn's throat clenched. She did not know what he was talking about, but it sounded bad. Her grandmother's face had turned white. Without thinking, she stepped in between them. "How dare you talk to an old woman like that? Only a coward would bully one weaker than himself, and fight unfairly with potions!" she said angrily.

"Allewyn, no!" her grandmother shouted, but it was too late.

Sir Calvin swept Allewyn out of the way with a backhand swing, knocking her to the ground. He then stepped forward and grabbed the front of the grandmother's tunic and shook her. Allewyn watched in horror as her grandmother's head snapped back and forth horribly. It seemed to go on for ages, but finally the knight stopped, hurling the unconcious form of the old woman to the ground.

there you are, i'm leaving the option of having her live or die to you, izzy!
Current Location: children's reference
Current Mood: hungryhungry
16 January 2007 @ 11:40 pm
*semi-irritated snort*

I regret to inform that, word on the street is that Emily ( geezler_kitty) will no longer be able to use livejournal due to parental ridiculousness or other. That kind of bites. 

A moment of silence for our fallen writer.

Futhermore, Micah wishes to take her place. Hahaha, we shall see how that transpires.  *wink*

Word from Lizzy ( timeless_story) is that you all can expect some more story by tomorrow evening, hopefully.

G'night, all.
11 January 2007 @ 01:02 am

Here is the next part. I hope it is agreeable to all. I realize that it's... different, considering it is taken from the voice of the grandmother rather than an anonymous third person narrator. Of course, it's changeable, if people have issues.


I am not a woman of great means. I keep my family fed, my garden growing, my home clean. Our life in the glade is simple. I could not ask for more. But blowing through the hemlocks is a new whisper I cannot deny. And I fear, Allewyn hears it as well.

As the notches I keep in the time tree have grown numerous with passing months, I have grown loathe to count them. I don't need to count them. Allewyn changes day by day. Even the loveliest girls I see in the village would pale beside her now. Already she walks like a willow branch swaying in the wind. For a changeling, she has far surpassed my expectations. I was afraid that she would grow comely... but my fears were unecessary.

Villages are vile places. Replete with vulgar folk of unusual idiocy, I can hardly be blamed for choosing to raise Allewyn outside of such septic areas. She is above them. But the trouble is that I can't keep her in the glade forever. She's nearly a woman now. She will want to know... She already wants to know about the world around her. She has a right to know. And I am no longer fit to simply saddle up Grendle and ride off into the horizon with Allewyn behind me. I have cursed the day I would admit, but the truth is that I am too old. I have had my share of journeys.

I will tell you about changelings. Perhaps you have heard of them. Perhaps you know of someone who can help us. But swear, swear to me you will not breathe a word to any soul or song bird liable to betray.

I am sure you have heard of changelings, and the tragedies that often surround them. I recall one story from years ago where a young couple from the village of Teidal lost their baby to the fae folk, only to have it swapped for a creton that ultimately grew to be a terror to her unwilling foster family. Changelings are children, human or fae, stolen from their families and placed in the care of a foster family, most often without permission of any parents involved. Why would fae folk be persuaded to steal a human babe? This question has plagued us for some time, and the only answer would seem to be their sheer love of mischief. So reckless are they that the act of exchanging one of their own for a human is clearly not considered immoral, according to whatever heathenous code it is they follow. But I digress.

Allow me to clarify. Allewyn was no replacement for a human babe stolen from me years ago. However, she is half fae; Allewyn's mother, ever my wandering prodigal daughter, somehow managed to rather indiscreetly couple with an elf. No ordinary fae was he, mind you. He was some prince or sheik or other. Nevertheless, their clandestine star-crossed romance quickly faded into bitter discord. Had Auri not been with child, they could have parted and gone their seperate ways, which is typically the practice of the fae folk. Her pregnancy, however, created a grand problem for a number of reasons.

Firstly, Auri was a common human, and her elf was an aristocrat of some kind; whereas, relations between humans and fae are viewed as inappropriate and dangerous. Secondly, Auri's human identity had not been revealed to the other fae in the area because they would not tolerate a human in their midst, and the elf's romance with her would have hardly been accepted. Fae, you see, are very private folk, and although it is true that they are fairer and more elite than humans, they have no magic, nor do they believe in it. Magic, as the fae have it, is something humans imagined in their ignorance of the laws of nature and science. Therefore, concealing Auri's identity had been a simple matter of keeping her out of public eye. Because, as legend has it, fae folk and human kind are distant relations; humans are all the crude things that fae are not. And fae are our very complicated, wonderful, mysterious, earth-loving, and mystic cousins. Who, by the way, happen to have pointed ears.

Pointed ears. That reminds me of Allewyn. I was worrying she might develop those. You see, Auri ran away from the fae folk and returned to me. Doing so, however, enraged the elf lord who sent many fae in all directions to seek her out. Auri carried his first born fae, or half fae, I suppose; and he only wanted the child. The fae are very protective of their own kind. And I surmise he hoped that he could raise Allewyn without ever telling anyone she was half human.

Because we are so far from the villages of men, Auri carried her child to full term safely and Allewyn came into the world in mid winter. As a babe she resembled any other human newborn, except that one of her eyes was a soft brown and the other, a clear blue. I suppose it was a clever trick nature played to remind us that she would always be half one thing, and half the other. I brought myself to forgive Auri, and we were able to live happily together for some time. Then one day, not quite a year after Allewyn was born, her mother went out to search for kindling. I never saw Auri again.

I am amazed that Allewyn has thrived. According to popular lore, fae typically grow weak and die without the care of their own kind, or, inversely, turn into malevolent haunts that terrorize the human families they have been left with. Allewyn is a changeling because she is fae and has been raised by myself, a simple herbalist. Although, I'll admit, I learned a great deal of methods from Auri, who returned from the fae awash with secrets of the earth.

The future plagues me. Allewyn knows nothing of who she is. And her ears may yet come to point. I imagine her mother perished, but there is no doubt in my mind that she is still sought by the fae folk, who live much longer than we do.

Listen to the wind. The hemlocks never lie.

Current Location: Thompson, CT
Current Mood: creativecreative
08 January 2007 @ 09:59 pm
Early summer had arrived in the forest. Bright sunlight filtered through the green canopy of leaves overhead, casting pools of light onto the soft sward. The leafy corridors were filled with sound of birdsong, and giant orange butterflies flitted among the verdure. Everywhere, creatures were falling into the rhythm that would carry them through the heat-filled days ahead.

Allewyn's home was a small cottage buried deep in the heart of the forest. She had never known either of her parents, and had lived there with her grandmother for as long as she could remember. It was built in a clearing, with a little garden where they grew herbs and vegetables to eat. A stream flowed past not far off in the lush undergrowth, and from this they drew their water.

Their's was a simple existence, but it pleased Allewyn. She had never known any other world aside from the cottage in the forest, and had never had the company of anyone but her grandmother, and the occasional animal she found injured or orphaned. She had a kind heart, and nursed these creatures back to health. Sometimes the creatures began to regard Allewyn as a friend, and would stay. She never felt the lack of companions her own age. In the summer her days were filled from sunrise to sundown, so she had no time to think of such matters. She tended to the garden, and helped her grandmother with various other chores. When she wasn't working, she was out exploring. She knew every nook and cranny of the surrounding woodland by heart, knowing exactly where the lilies bloomed in spring, and where patches of berries could be found ripening in the summer.

She knew of other places though, places where many other people lived, more people than she had ever seen in her life. She knew these places were called villages, and that once, a very long time ago, her grandmother had lived in one. She still went, sometimes, for things they could not get themselves, like cloth and flour. Allewyn was never allowed to come on these excursions, though curiosity burned within her. Her grandmother said these places were dangerous, noisy, and stunk of animal dung and the sweat of so many people in close proximity. She would never speak of why she had decided to leave her village and live alone in the woods with her granddaughter.

On one such day, Allewyn's grandmother had gone into the closest village to shop. It was the only such trip she would make that summer, and would stay all day, returning home loaded down with supplies that bore a strange smell to Allewyn...the smell of the outside world. They had argued bitterly before she was gone. Allewyn thought it was time that she be allowed to come along. Her grandmother was getting old, she argued, and needed help carrying things. Besides, she yearned to know of other people and places than the cottage and the forest. She was nearly seventeen, and was less than satisfied with her narrow view of the world. She knew there must be more out there, and she wanted to see it for herself.

As always, though, her request had been denied. She was left to stew angrily in the garden, yanking out weeds with a ferocity that made her hands sting and hair come loose from her bun. A crow landed on a fencepost and watched her with a critical eye, occasionally swooping down to snatch up bugs that her weeding displaced.

The crow was one that Allewyn had rescued a few winters back. She had found him, lying on the ice of a frozen stream, his left wing broken and useless. She nursed him back to health through the long, dark winter, but when spring arrived he refused to leave. She named him Thistle, because of his temper, and he had been part of the family ever since.

Suddenly, Thistle gave an alarmed squawk, and flew up into the air with a rush of black feathers. Allewyn stopped her furious gardening and looked up, wondering what had caused him to start like that.

Then she heard it, what sounded like a large animal crashing through the brush towards the clearing. It couldn't be her grandmother, she wasn't expected back for hours yet, and anyway she would never make that much noise. She rose to her feet, gripping the handle of the garden spade tightly in her fingers. Thistle alighted on her shoulder, and she felt his claws digging into her skin.

What burst through the underbrush was not some large, dangerous animal, as she had feared, but something which brought her equal alarm. It was another human being, a man, who strode purposefully towards her through the clearing when he spotted her.

Allewyn was unsure what she should do. Her grandmother had never specifically forbidden that she have contact with other people, but it was certainly implied. She was still feeling rebellious from their earlier argument, however, and she couldn't very well run away when he had already seen her.

As he neared, she could see that he was dressed very strangely, in a tunic made of interlinked rings of metal. A sword hung at his side. She wondered if he was a knight. Grandmother had told her about knights, how some of them were kind, but how they killed others and fought for pleasure. Allewyn, of course, had never seen one, but she figured that a knight would surely carry a sword.

He came to a stop in front of her, his fair hair shining in the hot noonday sun. Thistle cawed raucously from her shoulder, and she felt his claws dig in harder.

"You must be the witch's girl," he said, "though I thought she would be far too old to have a daughter as pretty as you."

Allewyn wasn't quite sure what the man was talking about, though his tone made her uncomfortable. "What do you want?" she asked abruptly. She pulled herself up to her full height, and tried to look sure of herself, though really she was at a loss. She saw soldiers sometimes in the woods, but this was the closest she had ever been to a man. He smelled strange, like sweat and something else she didn't know.

"I want to speak with the witch-woman who lives here," he replied, as though this were the most natural thing in the world, "I want her to mix up a potion for me."

"I don't understand, there is no witch here, only me and my grandmother," she said.

"Oh fine," he said, with a wink, "a healer, if that's what they're calling themselves these days."

"She's not one of those, either," Allewyn replied, "though she does know much about herbs and doctoring."

"Perfect," said the man, "where is she?"

"She's gone out for the day, to the village. She won't return until nightfall, probably," she answered. Adrenaline was rushing through her system, making her feel faintly light-headed. She felt as if the world had begun spinning backwards beneath her feet.

"Well I've come on important business, I'll just have to stay and wait, though this is a mighty inconvenience."

there, the beginning. sorry if i wrote too much, but i kept getting ideas. hope it suits all, if not we can always come up with something else!
Current Location: my parent's house
Current Mood: moodymoody