Page 61 of The Witch and His Crow

History told that women with bright minds were accused of the craft. Even those with differences, and yet no ties to the magic, were strung to stakes and burned, or drowned in the river for punishment.

It didn’t take much.

Arwyn barricaded the door with a pitchfork slotted between the wooden handles, then spun on me with panicked eyes. Just from his reaction alone, I could tell he had had a run in with Witch Hunters before. Likely one that had scarred him, too. I fought the urge to calm him, to tell him that we’d be alright, because my track record with Witch Hunters was almost a one-hundred percent escape rate. But there was no time—and unlike the rest of my run-ins with Witch Hunters, I had no power.

‘Check every dwelling,’ a voice called. ‘Brothers, uncover the mark of the devil and we shall cleanse this village. Do so with haste.’

One look around the stable, and it was clear there was nowhere we could hide successfully. I hardly imagined two men crouched behind a haystack wouldn’t elicit questions, witchcraft or not. This was the fifteen hundreds, if there was anything else that was blamed on the devil, it was being gay.

‘Is there another way out of here?’ I asked, breathless from adrenaline coursing through me.

‘Not without going outside, into the view of those who’d very much like to burn us at the stake.’ Arwyn was rifling through the stable, searching for a nook or cranny to hide in.

‘Arwyn,’ I snapped, drawing his full attention back to me. ‘Whatever is going through your mind right now, control it and focus. I need you.’

Those three words seemed to have more power over Arwyn than my Gift would have. He snapped to attention, body rigid, and brow kneaded. ‘There is an exit at the back. It leads out towards the watermill.’

‘Great,’ I said, extending a hand. To my surprise, Arwyn reached over and took it. ‘As long as the history books haven’t lied, which we both know they do, then there is one place the Witch Hunters will definitely not look for witches.’

‘Lead the way,’ Arwyn said, his hand shaking in mine.

I did just that. We left the stable through the side door Arwyn mentioned. It led out to the back of the building, the ground muddied and thick with horse shit, rotting straw, and more shit. As he mentioned, the mill lingered beside the stable. Built next to a lazy river moving downstream, water was caught in a large,imposing wheel that I’d remembered seeing when I escaped the demon birds.

‘This way,’ I hissed. Arwyn didn’t question me as I pulled him in that direction. Perhaps he was too focused on the splintering of wood back in the stable—no doubt the Witch Hunters had just broken inside.

‘Gentleman first,’ I said, gesturing towards the bank of the river.

‘You can’t be serious?’ Arwyn moaned, taking too long to contemplate my suggestion. There was no time to explain my plan. So I did the only thing I could think of and pushed him in.

‘If you float, you’re a witch,’ I said, jumping in behind him. ‘If you drown, you’re free of the devil but still you’ll die.’

Arwyn was wading in the middle of the river, the water up to his broad chest. Droplets fell over furious eyes which studied me, his mouth agape, his clenched teeth holding back what I was sure was a string of curses.

‘What the fuck, Hector?’

I smiled, running fingers through my hair to get the wet strands out of my eyes. ‘Oh, look. You float. You must be the devil’s child.’

He clearly didn’t appreciate my attempt at humour. And I had to admit to myself, it was freezing. Our only clothes were completely sodden. If we survived the Witch Hunters, we would probably die from hypothermia.

‘Witch Hunters believed witches would float, so they’d never except them to incriminate themselves by hiding in the water, would they?’ I snapped, teeth already chattering, as the water wheel churned just a short swim to our side. Just ahead of us, surrounded by dancing mist, sat evenly spaced out stone markers. The boundary that had been mentioned, no doubt. And around the stones, growing proudly, was thistlebane. A field ofit. Puddles of violent purple flowers which filtered with the faint breeze, bringing with it the sour perfume kiss of the weed.

‘Seems like those stones don’t keep out the real evil,’ I said, my attention separated.

Arwyn was silent. By the time I looked to him, the furious pinch of Arwyn’s face was smoothed out. Not completely, but enough that he saw the method to my madness. When his hand found mine underneath the water, I almost gasped. His touch was so warm compared to the frigid embrace of the river. In an ideal world, I would’ve pressed myself against him and absorbed everything he had to offer.

We swam to the water wheel, hiding ourselves beneath the gargantuan wooden frame. It was colder here in the shadows, where the light couldn’t warm the water even a little. I felt my body tense, my muscles hardening to stone as a barrage of shivers overcame me. Maybe Arwyn noticed because he heard my teeth chatter, or maybe it was because he hardly took his eyes off me. But it didn’t take long for arms to wrap around me, pulling my body towards him.

I was powerless to refuse, nor would I have. Because the moment his warmth seeped through my back and folded around my waist, the shivering eased.

‘This plan, although genius, is also absolutely ridiculous,’ Arwyn muttered, his lips close to my ear. With my back pressed to his chest, I couldn’t see his face, but my mind still conjured images I couldn’t hold back.

‘Tell me… that when we… don’t get caught’

Arwyn clapped his hand over my mouth, silencing me. Above the noise of the turning wheel, there were footsteps. The shadow of a figure cast over the water to our side, as Witch Hunters looked out across the river in search.

I should’ve been scared, but all I could focus on was Arwyn. How his hands were both smooth and rough, telling stories ofhis daily life before the Witch Trials. The power in his grasp, his natural ability to want to protect me even though we were rivals for all intents and purposes. Even the water drenching our bodies couldn’t conceal his scent. I tasted the salt on his palm, whilst enjoying the radiating heat of his flesh.

He held me like that, hand over mouth, body trapped to his, for a long while. I couldn’t place the time exactly, but it had to have been nearly an hour. All the while, Arwyn didn’t release me, not until the Witch Hunters had long left the village. Their search had not been bountiful, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be back.

---