Summary: Since she was a little girl Sasha was always told witches were trouble, although she never did shy away from trouble.
Features: Vague magic, gals being pals, kisses
Everyone is told from a young age not to interact with witches.
Old men sitting on porches, backs steeped and eyes narrowed would say, “They’ll twist the elements against you with a flick of their wrist at the slightest perceived insult. Them witches will curse you and all of you descendants, best to stay out of their hair.”
It was a reasonable thing to do for those of us who had no defense against magic, no way to protect ourselves from some wayward witch’s ire. Sasha was most certainly never reasonable and has always been far too curious than she should be. So, it came as no surprise that when a witch passed through their town, setting up a small shop in the woods at the outskirts, she knew what she had to do.
At noon on the second day, she carefully made her way through the forest, her feet catching on briars and her hair knotting with leaves. She wasn’t so daft as to go completely without protection, a bag of salt and a clear quartz crystal rested in her pocket in a desperate hope that maybe they would be able to help her in some fashion if things turned unsavory. When she finally made it to the witch’s hut, seemingly sprout out of the earth itself overnight, she hesitated. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, a pounding under her skin. What was she thinking? The only thing she knew about witches was that they could as easily curse you as they could bless you. She stood staring at the door moments from turning back when a voice interrupted her thoughts.
“What are you doing here?”
Sasha whipped around, her back pressed against the door, the crystal cutting into her palm. The woman on the other side of the clearing looked wild, untamed hair spilling down her back in dark curls, golden skin with eyes that reminded Sasha of sunlight.
“I was just,” Sasha sucked in a breath attempted to calm herself down as her voice cracked, “I was about to knock.”
“You’ve been standing at my door for the past five minutes, but please do continue with your knocking.” The woman looked rather unimpressed as she carefully hoisted a basket full of plants slightly higher on her hip, the tattoo of a snake on her arm shifting back from it with a flick of its tongue.
“I’m sorry.” Sasha was going to die, and it had nothing to do with any of the warnings passed on to her, oh no, she was going to die because the witch was gorgeous, and she was most definitely in love.
The witch sighed, shrugging before brushing past Sasha, “It’s not a big deal, a bit weird, but at least you are kind of polite.”
With an absent gesture of her hand, she opened the door, the lights inside the small hut jumping to life with an audible whoosh.
“I’m Sasha, what is your name?”
“Names have a lot of power; you should be careful who you give yours to.”
The room was homey, lit with lanterns and candles, some atop books strewn around everywhere others on shelves casting light into ominous jars. The witch made her way through the threshold and into another room without a backward glance to Sasha leaving her standing awkwardly in the doorway.
“Is there anything I can call you then?”
“Witch seems to be adequate for most of you.”
“That seems kind of mean doesn’t it?” Sasha shifted uncomfortably watching the witch as she came back into sight without the basket, “You’re a person, not just a witch.”
“Cute.” She smiled eyeing Sasha, searching for something she seemed to find after a moment, “You may call me Zamara. Now you must have come for something, so, let’s get down to business.”
“Well, I just kind of wanted to meet you.”
“Come now, there must be something you want.” The eye tattooed on the back of Zamara’s neck blinked lazily at Sasha as she went over the jars lining the wall. “A love potion? A curse? Perhaps you need some luck, a fortune told, there are many things that can be done.” She paused glancing over her shoulder, “However, please do be aware everything has its price.”
“I don’t have much to offer as payment.”
“We can work something out.”
They stood in silence, Zamara working her way through the different jars and vials while Sasha stared baffled at her back. “I guess I could do with a little good luck. Everyone likes to have some after all.”
“I see, smart choice.” Zamara spun around, her golden eyes glowing like a flame, “I would like in exchange three favors, nothing unreasonable of course, do you accept?”
“By your second favor I will give you your luck potion.”
They shook hands, Zamara’s hand soft in Sasha’s own, oddly delicate with long fingers covered in markings. Sasha return home that evening feeling like her entire life would soon be changing.
She was certainly looking forward to it.
Sasha had awoken early to ensure she finished all of her responsibilities quickly enough to go to Zamara at a reasonable time. She worked at the local tavern, and the owner’s wife had certainly noticed her eagerness.
She reached the witch’s hut just as the fireflies were coming out and the sun was dipping behind the trees. She quickly knocked, not wanting to repeat getting caught lurking outside a beautiful women’s house like a creep again. After a moment the door opened, and Zamara smiled warmly.
“Hello Sasha, I see you decided against the salt and cleansing crystal today.”
“Of course,” She brushed the tips of her fingers across Sasha’s shoulder, “I am a witch after all. Now come in, you must be cold.”
The settled down across from each other, a small table between them.
“Now my first favor may seem strange to you, but I would like a story passed down to you from someone. I do not care who it was from or what the story is about but the older it is, the better.”
Sasha blinked startled for a moment before leaning back dragging her eyes away from Zamara and up to her ceiling.
“Yeah, that’s kind of weird. The only thing I can think of is something my grandma would tell me when things were not going well.”
Sasha shifted, feeling the gaze of the witch like a heavy weight as butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She was one-hundred percent sure her voice was going to waver at some point, and her hands were most definitely drenched in sweat.
“Do you know why the Crickets sing?”
“No, I can’t say I do.” The white dress shirt Zamara was wearing slide off her shoulder slightly as she leaned forward with interest.
“I didn’t either when she told me. Everyone knows the cricket’s song is among the most beautiful, every night as the sun would fall, and the moon would turn her face to the world they would sing. It is how it has always been, and how it always will be. It was one night as the crickets continued their song that a man from the nearby village crouched before a cricket.
‘excuse me,’ he called out to the cricket aware of what he may be interrupting, ‘your song is truly the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.’
The cricket, flattered, smiled shyly back ‘Thank you, we work hard to sing it so well.’
‘If I may, why do you sing?’
The cricket hesitated, unsure if they should answer the man, however, after a moment they called back ‘every night we gather and sing for the sun we know has fallen, we hope that our combined voices will be loud enough and our song pretty enough to bring it back every morning.” Sasha sighed, glancing at Zamara, “I think it has something to do with not giving up hope and doing whatever you can.”
“It’s a very good story, thank you for sharing it.”
“If you want you can consider it yours, and I’ll still owe you three favors.”
Zamara threw her head back and laughed, “You are not very good at this, are you? No, I will accept this as a favor. Tonight, when you go home, I ask you to find something important to you and give it to me. It must be something you would rather not part with.”
Sasha stayed in the witch’s hut until midnight, simply speaking with her and learning more about the mysterious woman. When she returned home, she felt warm, filled with the memory of Zamara’s smile.
Sasha return to the witches hut the next evening, a small carving of a rabbit clutched in her hand and a light heart.
“Hello, Zamara, here is the thing you asked for.” Sasha carefully held out the small figure, watching as the other woman study it absently.
“May I ask why it is important to you?”
“My sister carved it for me; it was one of her first carvings. She’s now an artist in the big town up north. She carves for the rich there, so I don’t get to see her very often.” Sasha trailed after the witch as she carried the figurine deeper into the Hut, placing it by a set of written papers.
“Thank you for bringing it to me, here is the potion.” She passed back a vial filled with a light green something that glowed faintly. “simply drink it, and you should have good luck for 3 hours after, mind you must give it at least 30 minutes to settle before it is truly active. After the three hours, it will begin to fade.”
“Thank you,” Sasha wrinkled her nose studying the vial closer, “it kind of looks disgusting.”
“Most do, and most are.” Zamara laughed before taking Sasha’s hand and pulling her further into the hut.
They sat again, talking for hours once again until late in the night. That night Sasha worried that perhaps the witch would not wish to speak to her once the final favor was finished. She tried to figure out something else she could ask for, anything she could ask for and thought perhaps a blessing for her sister would do well.
The next day Sasha made her venture to the Witch’s hut, knocking at her door.
“Good evening, Sasha.” Zamara called out from behind Sasha watching as she whipped around.
“Hello, you look as beautiful as always.”
“I think I would like to exchange the last favor you owe me now,” Zamara crossed the space in between them effortlessly her dress brushing the grass before she carefully slid her hand into Sasha’s hair and pressed their lips together, “Stay in my life?”
Sasha immediately stepped closer to Zamara, taking hold of her hips as she kissed her pausing for a moment to respond, “I was terrified you would never ask.”
