“We can’t leave until he returns. We have to protect his home.”
“It’s your home too.”
[AO3] [image] [Part I] [Part II] [Part III]
“Why are we still here?” Fran’s voice whined in monotone. He looked up from where he was nestled in the crook of her arm, pressed close to her chest as she squatted in the woodland.
The girl paid no attention to the large bullfrog she cradled other than to shush him softly. Her other arm was extended towards the two humanoid figures that always crept at the edges of her vision. Her eyepatch was slipping slightly, but she didn’t have a free hand to push it up and she couldn’t make any sudden movements lest she startle the creatures.
The basket of puffball mushrooms and herbs she had collected sat at her feet as she pushed the wildberry pastries and meat pies toward the cryptids that lurked at the edge of the clearing. The lizard creature hung back with watchful eyes while the larger, furry beast crept forward, only having eyes for the pastries that she offered.
Nagi knew what Fran was referring to.
It had begun with accusations against the most vulnerable of their town. The orphan girl that lived in the alleys behind the church refused to dress in anything other than slacks and had evaded capture from the authorities for years until she was found stealing a lamb. She was imprisoned on charges of witchcraft on the grounds that she was procuring lamb’s blood for a ritual, but on the eve that she would have been burned, she vanished from her cell. The council proclaimed that her escape was due to black magic, and the villagers whispered that it was the shepherd’s son that had liberated her in the night, but Nagi had seen how young woman had chipped through the bars and manoeuvred through the narrow space of the window, climbing to freedom and disappearing into the night.
Fear continued to spread, and soon it was a young girl that lived on the outskirts of the village that predicted the deaths of many officials on the town council. Nagi thought that the pinpoint accuracy of the girl’s visions was miraculous, but the villagers had cried witchcraft and had the girl imprisoned awaiting trial. A noblewoman passing through town had tried to use her position to leverage mercy for them found herself on the receiving end of their ire as well. It was rumoured that she was to be drowned in the morning.
Then it was the woman who ran the apothecary because she cared for a colony of feral cats and the nature of her product made the judges chary. Her accusations were followed by that of an escort that dared to express her disdain at the witch hunt. Nagi and Fran had only noticed because their master had been rather fond of the red-haired woman’s company and her churlish character. They had left their woodland hut and gone into town that day to check in on her, basket on her arm filled with meat pies and sweet tarts, and Fran hidden inside from the prying eyes of the public. M.M. had looked at her with the same disdain she had regarded the judges with, but she had accepted the creel through the barred basement window only to scream and throw it all back at her when she reached in and touched the frog familiar.
Nagi had scooped up the remains of the ruined pastries as M.M. yelled, cursing up such a storm at the witch’s retreating back that guards came running. They had seen her face as she withdrew, her one eye wide with fear as M.M. shouted that Fran had been such a majestic owl and that Nagi was a horrible witch that had turned him into a disgusting toad. The guards gave chase as she made a beeline for the tree line, but traversed no further into the fae domain.
She ran with Fran in her arms until she was sure they were no longer being pursued but decided to take a detour back to their home on the off chance they were being followed, taking the opportunity to collect puffball mushrooms for dinner, along with ember marjoram along the path for a simple warding spell around their home, and spark rue, thistlecress, and bearberries for a protective charm she wanted to try on Fran.
He didn’t think they could stay undetected in their forest home any longer as they waited for their master to return from his journey, but their conversation had been interrupted when Nagi noticed the cryptids shadowing them, the same ones that often circled their home in the night and that Nagi had been feeding.
“Who would take care of Chikusa and Ken if we left?”
“Gross,” Fran croaked. “You named them.”
“I named you too,” Nagi reminded. She remembered the owl familiar perched on its master’s shoulder with the same mismatched eyes and then tried not to remember her benefactor’s imperious gaze and impish smile because he was no longer with them.
His wit sharp as ever, Fran immediately had a response ready. “I’m a frog; I can’t process human emotions.”
Nagi fixed him with a stare until he let out a resounding ribbet that sent the werewolf and lizard creature scurrying away into the darkness, leaving a trail of crumbs in their wake; at least they had eaten some. Satisfied, she straightened up and brushed off her pleated skirt, readjusting her grip on Fran. “Why a frog though? You’re a shapeshifter and you used to take on the form of an owl.”
“Apprentices don’t get to be choosy,” he replied disinterestedly. “Creepy, evil perverts shouldn’t get to be picky either.”
She felt a shudder run down Fran’s spine and she patted his head right between his bulging eyes. “He put a hex on you to activate whenever you badmouth him, didn’t he?”
“And if I even think about leaving this form. Even beyond the grave, he’s still a creepy, evil, pervert sadist,” the frog whined. “It was for the good of the world that he croaked… ouch.”
“Your master’s just on a journey right now,” Nagi said, “and you’ve been entrusted to me.”
“You know it’s the other way around right? He said that after he offed himself, to make sure he was buried in that specific plot in the cemetery, and not to raise him from hell until he was ready. Oh and he said that I had to look after the little witch girl with no powers.”
Nagi ignored the slight at her weak magical ability. “We can’t leave until he returns. We have to protect his home.”
“It’s your home too.”
He got the last word because she didn’t know what to say.
A mob of crows cawed as they took wing from the bristly pines and peeling birch trees that lined the path. A crisp autumnal breeze caught the cacophony and lifted it to the skies, somber, grey, and cold.
___
It didn’t take long for the village to organize an expedition into the woods. Nagi had been wrong; they were more afraid of a witch than they were of the fae. They showed at dusk as Nagi and Fran were collecting mellow moss and aster tubers by the creek, as all witches knew this was the best time for a quality harvest.
Fran had shifted into a human form to assist her, pantlegs rolled up to his knees as he waded into the creek in search of the slippery plants she needed for her various soups and potions (he couldn’t reliably tell the difference). He kept a cheeky cap on his head with a frog face which he had found that kept him within the parameters of the enchantment his master had placed on him.
He had noticed their approach first, and Nagi soon after when she felt the subtle change in his demeanour from comfortably uncouth to forced nonchalance. Stepping out of the creek, he returned to her side.
“Fran,” she murmured, reaching towards him as he came closer.
“What? Gross,” he said but made no move to avoid the fingers she trailed across his cheek.
“We can run,” she said, placing her hand a little more cogently on his face.
“We could.”
“But I would slow you down?” she surmised, letting her hand fall back to her side.
He looked back impassively, following the downward trail of her hand, their expressions mirrored. “No, but this sadist master of mine has a hut in this forest that this cute witch girl with no powers is determined to protect until he returns from his reincarnation journey.” Fran sighed peevishly as the hex activated. He ignored it and shifted his preferred human form into a perfect copy of Nagi, dark haired and birdlike.
She looked him up and down, knowing full well what his plan was; but she couldn’t let him do that. Torches flickered in the nearing distance. He saw the same flicker in her eye. “We could fight.”
“You should run,” he said mildly as if he were commenting on the weather. “If you want to live, then bet your life on finding that corpse’s ring. That should have enough juice to enhance even your ability.”
“I’m not going to leave you.”
The familiar looked the witch up and down before turning his back on her. Fog rolled in between them and thickened until the air felt heavy. “Okay then, I’ll go. Goodbye!”
His lacklustre departure and uncharacteristically bright goodbye confused her. Fran had said he didn’t understand human emotions, but if so, why did he use the fog to cover his face?
The little witch girl watched powerlessly as his form was slowly lost to the mist, pursued in her stead by a witch hunt. The torches flared like a warning, a beacon of terror; she waited until they passed and ran in the opposite direction, scooping up the basket filled with the fruits of their labour.
___
She ran until she reached their humble home, circled with a shroud of protective charms. The hazy enchantments parted for her as she ran up the steps and threw the wooden door open without hesitation. Nagi walked with purpose over to the corner of the kitchen, pushing aside a broomstick and an umbrella in her search. A pair of tall rubber boots fell over, and she grabbed the shovel that sat behind them. Hefting the spade over her shoulder, she cowed a little at the sudden weight, but caught herself before she toppled over backwards. Then she was out the door again, leaving behind their darkened home, basket of moss and tubers on the kitchen table, dinner uncooked.
Nagi knew the forest like the back of her hand, her footing sure as she flew through the dark, finding the quickest path through the undergrowth as if it were nothing. She had travelled these secret trails with her benefactor and his familiar many times before. Now she was alone, but determined to save them –to protect Fran and preserve the sanctity of their home— even if that meant disturbing his slumber.
The spot he had asked them to bury his body was in the corner of the cemetery, under a cluster of aspen trees on the unmarked plot, with their low hanging branches that had obscured the location. They had had to chop them away in order to lay him to rest after he began his journey through the different planes of existence. The places where they had marred the pure white bark had healed into dark scars, aspen eyes that now watched her every move.
Nagi brushed off their gazes and wasted no time in breaking ground. It was harder than she thought, and she felt the reverberation through the handle, wincing slightly. Unable to afford a moment’s rest when Fran was in danger, she put her foot against the shovel and heaved until the earth gave way and turned over for her. She did it again and again until she could no longer stand, her arms and legs shaking.
She threw the shovel to the side, falling to her knees in the shallow hole, trying not to let the desperation overwhelm her. Shadows moved in the edges of her vision, and she jumped backwards not a moment too soon as a creature landed with a solid thud where she had been crouched.
The werewolf snarled and began digging away. “Ken,” she murmured. He grunted back at her as he dug so avidly it sprayed mud and grass all around them.
A humanoid lizard slid down into the opened earth to join them, giving her what seemed like a nod before it began to tear at the hard ground as well. “Chikusa,” Nagi whispered. She watched them in stunned silence before wiping the sweat from her brow and joining them.
Her only companions beneath the moon were a beastly dog and scaly varanid that dug alongside her. Hands and knees in the dirt, fingers curled into claws, the broke through the earth, exhuming the unmarked grave until her bloody hands met cold fingers rising from the dirt.
Nagi took a deep breath and reached for the ring glinting in the low light. As soon as her fingers touched the cool metal, the world around her ignited, and explosion rocking through the cemetery with thunderous force, throwing her forward into the dirt.
Before she could recover, there was another explosion, and a flash of heat that flared above her head that made her press herself down into the ground before slowly raising her head to check if there was an opening for escape.
A dark figure loomed over the grave, silhouetted by an intense fire that blazed behind him. His dark hair fluttered with the blazing hot air, embers whipping past and illuminating his impassive face. His eyes were steely as he caught a projectile in his hand, regarding the flames it spat before casually tossing it aside. She cried out softly at the blast as it shook the ground again. The world was on fire and she could not understand why he was here, but knew that as long as he was, she was safe.
