Chapter 4: The Cabin
Book 1: Naedira
AS ALWAYS, FEEDBACK on this Chapter is requested! I’m interested in any thoughts any of you might have, but specifically I’d like answers to these two questions:
First, are the details of what is happening clear enough? I don’t, of course, mean “Do you understand absolutely everything that’s happening?” Is there enough detail to allow you to understand the basics of what is happening, and enough hints at what you don’t understand to pique your interest? Which leads to the second question: would reading this make you want to keep reading the next chapter of the book?
If you want to go back and re-read what has come before, here are some links that you can use; I’ve added navigation links to the other posts in this section so you can more easily navigate back here when you are done.
Chapter 3: Revelations and Flight
How long I lay in the cold dirt of that field, insensible, a prisoner to my grief, I can not say. I was utterly lost to the world, unable to think or move or do anything beyond weep until my heart burst, then weep again for the pain of the bursting. If the Eldest himself and the Chief Seeker had come upon me while I wept, I do not think I would have taken note of them enough to even have stirred a span from where I lay to escape their grasp.
But tears are finite, and at long last mine were spent. I came back to myself with the realization that the afternoon was now far gone. A sudden terror gripped me; I had lingered here out in the open for far too long! Doubtless the cry had by now been raised, and the villagers had gone to my house, and…
My mind fled away from that thought, even as my grief rose up again, renewed by even the vaguest recollection of what must happen at my home when that alarm was raised and answered. Instead, I lighted on the likelihood (which I immediately took as a certainty) that the Seekers were undoubtedly already busy in their pursuit of me. And with that thought came the sound of hoofbeats on the road, which still lay only a rather short distance away. I collapsed to my stomach, embracing the earth in a paralyzing spasm of fear. They were upon me already! My parents’ sacrifice would now be in vain!
Only a moment passed, though it felt like a lifetime, before I heard, just behind the sound of hoofbeats, the creak of a wagon’s axle, which immediately rendered my mental image of mounted soldiers absurd. The Seekers would not travel in a wagon! Surely this was simply some merchant moving along the road, innocent of anything that touched the drama tearing through my life that day.
I moved into a low crouch, then raised my head slowly to the level of the heads of wheat around me. Just beyond where I hid, a wagon laden with brush and firewood lumbered slowly down the road toward the village, though it was far enough along that the angle of the road hid the driver’s face from my view. Thankfully, that also meant that, crouched as I was, I was likely completely invisible to him. I doubted that he would have seen me had I stood up to my full height, though I certainly did not test that theory. And a good thing, too, for a moment later, as I watched the wagon lumber on, I heard the sound of another horse approaching, this one coming from the direction of the village and riding hard.
I turned my head slowly, trying not to make any movement that might catch a stray eye, and saw a single rider gallop into view, reining up to a trot and then a walk as he came upon the wagon. The waggoneer pulled up his team and stopped as well, just as the rider leaned toward him and began to speak. They were only a span apart as they began to speak, so of course I could hear only a vague murmur of their words. But I did not need to hear them. Just as he stopped, I had seen a crimson sash cutting an ugly scar across the rider’s grey tunic, marking him as a deputy Seeker. On this day, in this place, they could be speaking of only one thing: me. The rider gestured toward the village, then back up the road toward the northwest and the mining villages that lay in that direction, and the wagon driver shook his head, gesturing toward Leitborm.
The rider seemed satisfied; after a swift look into the back of the wagon and a curt final word that seemed to be some kind of stern warning, he waved for the waggoneer to continue on. As the team started up again, dragging the heavily leaden wagon back into motion, the rider stood for a moment in his stirrups, scanning the fields on both sides of the road.
And in that moment, I saw that the rider was Tel.
His sternly cut chin and dark hair were unmistakable, even from this distance and shrouded by the heads of wheat which hid me from his gaze, though I had to resist the urge to duck back down in a movement that was almost certain to catch his probing dark eyes. Just days before, Tel had been fully absorbed with the daunting task of setting up his own woodworking shop, and now, he was marked as a deputy Seeker. Perhaps the Seekers in Leitborm, admittedly few in number, had felt that the crisis of finding a family of witches among them, with one already escaped, warranted adding more deputies to their number, and Tel had been pressed into service. But that explanation rang false in my mind. It seemed much more likely that he had volunteered, and for the only obvious reason: he wanted to find me and bring me back himself.
This revelation, speculative though it was, crushed me almost as much as anything else I had borne that day. Tel had been on the periphery of my life for as long as I could remember and at least a part of me had always assumed that one day we would be Promised to each other, though there had never been any rational reason to believe this. That red sash cut across all of those dreams just as surely as it cut across his chest. I had believed, had hoped that he would one day be seeking me for his wife, and instead, he was seeking me for the pyre, to burn me as a vile witch.
The realization of all I had lost this day struck me anew, and I drew blood on my lower lip before the desperate sobs of hopeless despair were choked back down into silence.
After a moment, he settled back into his saddle, spurred his mount and continued on up the road. In moments he was gone from sight, and I sank down again, still slowly and carefully, for the wagon continued lumbering on its way down toward Leitborm, and one shout from that driver could still bring Tel, and all the weight of the Seekers, down on my head. I sat down in the dirt and rested my head on my knees, fighting to keep at bay the sobs that threatened to burst through my chest, trying to calm my beating heart enough for me to consider what was best to do next.
I realized almost at once that I had to move on, through the forest and into the mountains, where I would somehow have to find the mysterious Lornus and seek his help as Father had commanded me to do. But it was some minutes before I could bring myself to put that decision into action and force myself to begin my journey. But at last, courage and the fear of being caught joined forces to stir my limbs, and I rose carefully from the ground. The road was now empty, but I still kept as low as I could, hunching over almost double as I continued my slow journey toward the edge of the forest.
My progress was painful and slow. The need to walk in such an awkward manner, freezing in mid-stride at every imagined noise from the road, slowed me considerably, and I was forced to stop several times to rest my aching back, even though the distance to the forest’s eaves was relatively short. But eventually I made it, and was more thankful than perhaps I should have been to be able to stand upright again in the relative safety of the underbrush at the forest’s edge.
The ground here was rocky and rose in a slope rather abruptly for several hundred yards, a forecast of the mountains looming out of sight but relatively nearby to the east. I was surrounded by familiar aspens and leatherleafs, birches and ironbark trees, old friends from my many forays into the woods near Leitborm, though a smattering of firs and evergreens dusted the slopes above me, promising a landscape as alien as the pathless wood before me. After a short pause to catch my breath and knead my still aching back, I headed off into the woods. My plan was to angle slightly toward the northeast, gradually drawing closer to road, even though it was leading me in the wrong direction. I feared to go too far from it, lest I become lost in this unfamiliar and largely pathless forest. I thought I could move along on the eaves of the road, within the cover of the trees, until I came to one of the nameless (at least to me) mining villages that lay spread out across the lower foothills of the Barrier Mountains to the north and east of Leitborm. From there, I assured myself that I could find another road that would lead me south, where my hopeful destination lay. With that vague plan firmly fixed in my mind, I trudged off, hampered by my lingering fear as much as by dense underbrush lining the sloping ground that lay before me.
Six hours later, as the light of day began to abandon me, I was finally forced to admit that I was not going to find the road. Though it could not have lain more than a half mile away from where I had entered the forest, the rugged terrain and the distraction of my fear and grief had defeated my woodcraft skills. I was lost. At last, as the dark was growing thick enough to make any movement through these woods dangerous, I came upon a hollow log, and I made my fitful, cheerless camp at its base. I slept only fitfully, of course. I dared not light a fire, for fear of drawing attention, and thus danger, to me, but I had only my light cloak to protect me from the cold and damp of the night. The natural sounds of the nighttime forest rose up around me as I settled in, and I started at every sound, imagining in the croak of a frog the tramp of a Seeker’s boots, and hearing in a nearby owl’s shrill cry a signal horn, drawing my enemies down upon me. Sometimes even the silence felt ominous, and several times I started awake at the sound of nothing, convinced that the wood around me was about to erupt with armed men, Tel at their head, all bent on bringing me to my doom atop a blazing bonfire, which was the fate of all witches. The only blessing, I realized later, was that my sleep that night was too fitful to admit any dreams, much less the Dream. I am quite certain that having to face that nameless terror, on top of all the other frights that assailed me, would have broken my mind and burst my heart.
Four days I passed in this manner, miserably cold by night, sleeping only in snatches, wandering by day through a maze of underbrush and trees toward what I hoped was the southeast, seeing in all this time neither man nor beast nor sign of any path that might help me find my way. By the third night, my meager store of food was gone, and as the fifth day dawned, misty and cold, I felt that I must find a path, any path this day, or I would surely go mad.
I should have been more careful in my wish.
For about two hours after dawn, I did finally stumble upon a path. It was an ill-used, almost invisible cart path leading, as far as I could tell, almost due east. Clearly it was not oft used, though I thought I saw some signs that riders, and perhaps some kind of cart, had travelled it fairly recently. I did not stop to think about anything more than the obvious: tracks meant people and people meant food, and perhaps even shelter and some directions, all of which I desperately needed. Surely, I thought, whatever hidden village or secluded homestead that this ancient trail led to would be far enough, remote enough from the affairs of the world for me to be safe there, at least for long enough to find and purchase the things that I needed. Surely the pursuit of one witch from a village beyond the eaves of this wood could not have passed this way!
Desperation has a way of making even the most foolish of decisions seem wise. The tracks led enticingly toward what I believed was the east, and I happily, eagerly marched off after them, my spirits lifting for the first time since leaving Leitborm what seemed a lifetime ago.
Just before noon, I came to the rim of a small, dark hollow, sheltering on the side of a slope that rose steeply away to the north. In the center stood a poorly constructed, rather run-down cabin. It had never been sturdy but time and neglect had made it seem more of a ruin than a genuine shelter. The rough cut logs that made its walls were dark with stains of mold and rot, leaving gaps of a finger-width or more in several places just on the front wall alone. The roof seemed to be thatched more with fallen leaves and decaying branches than with straw, and the stones of the short chimney leaned just slightly away from the cabin wall, as if it feared to stand too close, lest it be infected by the cabin’s disease. Just to the left, slightly up the slope and behind the cabin a tiny spring bubbled up from among some rocks and fell away down the slope in a small stream that passed quickly out of sight in the undergrowth near the far side of the hollow. Just beyond the spring was a small enclosure, a cage that seemed to be made of tightly woven branches which obscured my sight of the dim shapes moving about within. A low murmuring sound rose up from the cage and tickled the edge of my awareness, but I paid it no heed; indeed, I had eyes for nothing other than the thin trail of smoke that wafted gently from the chimney top.
I had found people at last!
I should perhaps pause here to explain that, while travelers of any sort are, admittedly, quite rare in the wilds near my village, still if a stranger, weary and hungry, had arrived at any door in Leitborm, they would have been welcomed in, given food or shelter or whatever they required without hesitation or question. So, it was without fear or any thought of caution, without any thought beyond my need, that I walked right up to the cabin’s decrepit door and, with a short knock, boldly threw it open.
I realized at once that I was not in my village any more. I caught only a glimpse of a dim, dingy room occupied by three large, unkempt men who sprang to their feet at my arrival, long evil looking knives appearing in their hands. They all had grimy, unwashed beards covering most of their faces, and gave off a miasmic smell that would have made me gag, had my attention not been fixed elsewhere. Two were dressed in simple homespun woolen shirts and trousers, looking for all the world like woodcutters; the third, taller by a hand than his companions and clearly the leader of the group, wore what must once have been a fine silk shirt under a well made, though long used dark blue jacket and sturdy leather pants. All of this, I took in at a glance as we faced each other wordlessly for a frozen moment. The two thugs expressions suddenly shifted from fear and surprise to wicked glee, while a slow smile spread across the leader’s face and he drawled, “Welcome to our humble home, my dear girl. You are most welcome indeed.”
These expressions, almost of predatory delight, chilled my bones, and I began to slowly back away from the doorway, holding up my hands toward them, though whether in mute apology or wordless supplication, I could not have said. As I moved, almost as if that was the cue they had been waiting for, they began to move as one, slowly pacing forward, toward me.
I stumbled backwards more quickly, trying to deflect the power of their evil glares with a strong, confident word, but all I actually stammered out was, “Lost my way… sorry for intruding…”
They were outside the cabin by now, pacing slowly toward me, fanning out a bit as they won free of the confines of the cabin’s single room. I continued backing away, trying to project an air of calm confidence that could not have been further from the desperate fear that roiled in my heart. They were no more than six paces away from me when the leader held out his hand to me and said, “Wait little miss, we can’t have you running off so soon, now can we. It isn’t every day that such fine goods walks willingly into our hands. We’ll not be wasting such a chance, now, will we boys!”
I froze in terror as he spoke, terror that deepened at the sight of the other two, shaking their heads as sly, ugly grins that had nothing to do with humor spread across their faces.
Without any warning, they lunged toward me, and I stumbled back in surprise. I suspect this was their plan, because my feet immediately got tangled on a root and I fell backwards, crashing to the ground with a force that made the world explode in color and sound for a moment. I barely felt their huge hands grip my arms and raise me to my feet.
As my vision slowly cleared, I found myself caught, both arms trapped in the steely grip of the two underlings on either side of me, staring at their leader who had already spoken. He was only a pace away from me, with an expression of triumph and delight on his face that promised misery and torture beyond anything I had ever feared or even imagined. I could not keep myself from letting out a small whimper as I shrank away from him, but the hands gripping me might as well have been iron chains for all my efforts moved them. I was trapped.
The leader took a long moment, leisurely looking me up and down, almost as if appraising my value like I was a horse to be sold at auction. With a sudden, sinking feeling, I realized that was exactly what he saw me as, a terrible suspicion that was confirmed a moment later when he nodded sharply in approval and murmured to himself, “Yes, she’ll fetch a fine price for us.”
It was only now that I realized the depth of trouble that I had walked into. These were not just common ruffians, looking for an easy purse to snatch. These were slavers, and I was in their power. Their property.
Though slavery is almost unheard of in Leitborm, and in all of the small villages of the Alesbor plateau, in the southern regions of my Realm, this vile trade flourishes. Slaves are common there, within and near Jerumbatha, and provide much of the labor required to work the plantations that are prevalent in that region. In the midst of my terror in leaving Leitborm, and in my desperation at being lost for so long in this pathless forest, I had forgotten what every child in my village knows: the eastern forests are the hunting ground for slavers looking for new “recruits” to bring south. In my foolishness, I had walked right into their arms and surrendered myself to them as if becoming a slave was the deepest desire of my heart. And now, I was trapped; there was no escape!
With a curt jerk of his head toward the enclosure that I had barely noticed on my approach to the cabin, the leader turned from me and barked, “Bring her,” before striding off toward the far end of the hollow. The two thugs gripping my arms jumped to obey, pulling me along so roughly that my feet were almost lifted off the ground as they drew me forward, toward my fate.
As we approached the enclosure, I saw it clearly for the first time. It was a small cage made from thick tree branches intermingled with iron bars and reinforced with thick leather cords, though the sturdy looking gate in the center of the front wall was made of iron-bound wood planks rather than rough cut logs. It was only about six paces across and crowded with almost ten figures, mostly women though with a few young boys. They all had hunted looks of desperation as they quickly cowered toward the back wall, as far from the gate and the imposing leader of the slavers as their confines allowed. Clearly this man engendered terror in all of them, and my heart sank even lower to see what must certainly be a preview of my future.
The leader let out a long, cruel laugh as he ran his hand carelessly along the front wall of the cage, surveying his captives, his property. Their fear seemed to intoxicate him; he relished it, drinking it in and savoring it like a rare wine. That laugh raised the hackles on my neck and poured dark, cold terror deep into my soul. Then the two holding my arms brought me up short, just in front of the cage’s gate, which was latched shut with a thick, sturdy chain and locked tight with a padlock.
The leader stopped at the far corner of the enclosure and turned to face me, so that he could be clearly seen by all of his captives, both those already cowering within the cage and his newest acquisition: me.
His eyes speared me with a dark and terrible gaze that made my bones freeze, and then he casually addressed the crowd. “We have a new companion for you all today. Make her very welcome.”
The captors holding my arms chuckled at this, a dry malicious sound that had nothing to do with humor. Then, at a nod from the leader, the one holding my right arm released me and stepped forward, fitting a large key in the gate’s lock and wrenching the chain free.
As that gate swung open, a flood of deeper panic washed over me. They were going to put me in a cage, where I would be trapped like an animal. I had to be free, had to escape! If they put me in there, it was inevitable that they would discover what I was: a vile witch, despised and reviled by everyone. They would kill me when they knew what I was!
The mindless panic of that thought washed over me, through me and my mind was swept away. I had no conscious thoughts, made no clear decision to act; I simply knew, with ever fiber of my being, that I must not go into that cage! And before I was even aware of it, I was moving, pulling abruptly away from the one thug who still gripped my arm while swinging my free hand blindly toward his face. He must have believed me to be thoroughly cowed (which was not far from the truth), and so my sudden struggle must have caught him completely by surprise, because his grip on my forearm slipped just as my hand made contact with his face. I bared my nails against his cheek and I saw strips of bright red appear as I raked out lines from his flesh. He cried out in sudden, unexpected pain, dropping my arm entirely as he reached up to cover his ravaged check with his filthy palm.
As soon as his confining grip was gone, I spun and ran as fast and as hard as my exhausted, fear-blasted legs could go, my only thought to escape this new prison and lose myself again in the forest. Better to die slowly of hunger and thirst then to surrender to the flames that would inevitably come from that cage!
I made it no more than ten paces before a large hand gripped the back of my head, yanking fiercely on a clump of my hair and pulling me backwards to land flat on my back. The world exploded into light for the second time, and for several seconds I knew nothing but pain. When I could open my eyes again, I saw an ugly face hovering mere inches from mine, raw scratch marks scarring his cheek, the leaking blood clearing a path through the grime as it slowly dripped into his scraggly beard. His hot breath bathed my face in the sickly stench of stale tobac and sour wine, sweeping nausea over me. Spittle sprayed out of his mouth as he growled, “You’ll be sorry for that, missy. You can be sure of that!”
Without loosing his grip on my hair, he grasped me by the shoulder with his other hand and dragged me back over the rough ground to where his two companions were standing, in the small clear space between the cabin and the cage. The other prisoners watched with expressions ranging from horror to pity, but all were tinged with an irresistible fascination, as if they would have liked to look away from what they knew was about to happen, but were powerless to stop themselves from staring.
In full view of that helpless, pathetic crowd, the thug dragged me to the leader’s feet and dropped me in a heap, weak and utterly helpless before their cruel might. The leader stared at me for a moment, a glint blooming in his eyes that spoke of vile pleasures, and then a small grin of anticipation broke over his countenance. After a moment, he leaned forward ever so slightly and breathed, “That wasn’t very nice, now was it, missy?” He paused, as if waiting for a reply, then continued, “I suppose the boys and I are going to have to teach you some manners. Right boys?” He glanced at his companions, and his wicked grin quickly spread, marring their already ugly faces as they both nodded eagerly, moving to flank their leader so all three stood over me like a pack of wolves. Then the leader reached down slowly, almost languidly, and began unfastening the front of his pants.
A fear colder than any I had yet know wrapped its arms around me as I suddenly realized what they intended. Darkness crowded around the edges of my vision, threatening to overwhelm me, and for a moment I feared I would pass out, though a small part of me yearned for that release, so that I would not have to live through what these monsters had planned for me. I started to push away from them, pitifully scuttling backwards toward the cabin, which earned me nothing more than harsh barks of laughter from all three of my tormentors. Their expressions were far too easy to read; they were relishing the terror of my helplessness as much as they planned to enjoy my body. The leader stepped forward and reached down to catch me, to take me.
And suddenly the world changed.
Time seemed to pause, freezing the evil man in front of me with his arms outstretched toward where I lay, helpless and prone on the ground in front of him. My vision blurred and the world split into two distinct scenes, overlayed or on top of or beside each other. It was impossible to describe, but suddenly, there were two unique tableaus before my eyes. In one, I saw my three captors, frozen before me in the act of taking their hideous revenge. The leader loomed over me, reaching out to take possession of me, while his two companions watched eagerly, already loosing the fronts of their pants in anticipation of their turns with me. But beside or behind or somehow overlayed on that scene, I saw another. I saw myself speaking words that suddenly rang clear and pure in my mind, though from what language and of what meaning, I knew not. And as I spoke those words, the terrors before me, threatening me, transformed. How this happened, or what they became, I could not see clearly; I only knew that they ceased to be a threat, ceased to be men at all, and I was free of them.
This strange double vision seemed to hang in the air for days, and in an instant, in the blink of an eye it was gone. Suddenly the world lurched into motion again, and the leader was moving forward, reaching down to take hold of me.
Once again, without any intent or even conscious thought, I reacted. I spoke the words.
The change was immediate. All three thugs stepped backward, as if pushed by a stiff wind or an invisible blow. The leader recovered first and began to step forward, to approach me again, but his legs would not move. Glancing down in confusion, he found they would not move because they were no longer legs. His feet had sunk into the ground, transforming into roots, while the bark of a tree was creeping upward, consuming him. His eyes widened in sudden terror, and he turned, as much as he was still able to move, to his companions for aid, only to find them gripped in their own transformations.
How long the process lasted, I could not tell. It seemed that they stood for hours, for days, locked in the transition from man to plant, fighting to retain their humanity, crying in unendurable anguish and terror as they realized the battle was already lost, as their bodies slipped away into wood and leaf and bark. But part of my mind knew that it was only a moment later that I lay on the ground staring up at three twisted, evil looking but harmless trees.
I was free.
I rested where I was, taking a moment to draw in several ragged breaths as the reality of my salvation rushed fully over me. I had cast another spell. I had used magic to destroy these evil men. I was free of them, but guilt rushed in as well. Magic was evil and I had used it to destroy three men. True, they had been vile and had been about to do something unspeakable to me. But I had struck out at them with magic. I was becoming the monster that all witches must become.
Slowly, these thoughts cleared, and I became aware again of my surroundings. The forest lay around me, the ramshackle cabin behind me, the cage before me with the captives inside. The captives, who because of my evil magic, were captives no more. Though I was bound for destruction, at least they could be saved!
I stood up as quickly and confidently as I could and faced the prisoners. They could have been carved from stone, for none of them had moved or did move, standing or crouching huddled near the back of the cage, all their eyes wide with terror, filled with a mixture of fear and loathing, all fixed unwaveringly on me.
I moved to the gate and pushed the chain fully aside, sweeping it open wide, their eyes following my every move like a rabbit caught in the wolf’s gaze. I stepped back a pace, and then another, clearing the way for them to escape. No one moved. I stepped forward again, to the very edge of the cage’s entrance; though still, no one moved, all of them pulled further away from me, as if their very spirits sought escape while their bodies remained carved from stone.
“You are free,” I said finally, in what I hoped was a comforting voice. “They can harm you no longer. You are free.”
For a long, painful moment, still no one moved. Then, a young woman, scarcely older than myself, took a tentative, fearful half step forward, her body rigid and tense, as if expecting a blow to come at any moment. Her voice trembled, but her words were filled with passion. “Begone witch! We’ve done you no harm! Leave us be!” She waved her arm toward me, as if swatting away an pestering insect, then ducked her head at her own audacity and made the sign against evil toward me.
Suddenly anger welled up within me. My father had often told me that my temper would one day be the death of me, and on this day I shudder to imagine how close he was to being correct. A rage rushed over me, sweeping away all other emotions, all other thoughts save one. I had just saved her life, all of their lives. True, I had used magic, but their captors, their tormentors were gone! They were free, just as I was. And yet, instead of thanks, they spurned me, acting as if I was a greater threat than the one I had just vanquished!
Suddenly, the world split again, dissolving into that incomprehensible double vision. I saw the woman, frozen in her fearful stance before me, all of the other prisoners frozen just behind her, fear and loathing written clearly on all of their faces. But I also saw, somehow superimposed on the first, myself speaking new words that I did not know. But these were harsh words, dark and cruel. They rang painfully in my ears and left a filthy, oily stain on my tongue. A stench of decay and death rose up as they left my mouth, and the woman before me was instantly transformed. Her skin turned grey, and lines of dark, putrid infection sprang up from the ends of her fingers, racing up her arms, engulfing her in a spiderweb of putrefaction. In moments, she was a mass of decaying flesh, screaming horribly in agony as her body dissolved into nothing. And then she was silent, a bloated corpse sinking hopelessly to the floor of the cage and breaking apart in a putrid mass that contaminated the ground and infected those nearest her who were splattered by the dissolution of her flesh.
Again, the vision lasted only for the briefest fraction of a moment, but the sight of her lifeless, deformed body seared itself on my mind even as my mouth opened to speak those hideous words that would sweep away her ingratitude and contempt in a wave of decay and death. But something held my tongue as that image played itself over and over before me. Her disgust and contempt turning to fear, her body erupting in vile black decay before shrinking lifelessly to the ground, the horror on the faces of the other prisoners as I proved all their worst fears about witches to be true. As I proved myself to truly be a greater horror than the one I had just destroyed.
My mouth clamped shut, choking the words of cursing with a stifled gag as the gorge rose in my throat. I was sickened by the vison that still hung before me, sickened and horrified by what I had almost done. Perhaps the stories were right after all; perhaps I was, indeed, a monster to be hated and feared. A monster worthy only of death.
I stumbled backward a step, shaking my head to repudiate that thought. I was not such a monster, could not be… The vision still hung in my mind, mocking my vain attempts to prove anything otherwise.
With a strangled voice, I cried out, “No, I will no do such a thing! I will not!”
Then I turned and ran from the clearing, heedless of where I was going, wanting only to flee from the presence of those eyes that saw me as a monster, knowing not how close I had come to living up to their hateful expectations of me.