Page 62 of The Witch and His Crow

The sun set, the water so cold I could no longer feel my toes. My skin had likely shrivelled to the texture of dried raisins. Just when I contemplated getting out, more footsteps sounded nearby, which made Arwyn hold onto me tighter.

Had the Witch Hunters come back already? Maybe they weren’t as stupid as I gave them credit for.

‘It’s safe, boys,’ came the unfamiliar female voice from the river’s bank. ‘They’ve gone.’

I couldn’t place it, but clearly Arwyn recognised it enough to relax, because he finally released me. ‘Eleanor?’

I waited for the woman to confirm or deny, before slipping out into view. ‘It is I. And for a moment, I thought the Witch Hunters would find you in my husband’s stable. I was glad to find it empty, although the damage to the door will not please my husband upon his return.’

Arwyn waded towards Eleanor’s voice. It wasn’t until he reached the shallow water that he noticed I wasn’t following him to the bank. He turned back to face me, bright eyes glowing in the hue of dusk. His skin had gone blotchy from the water, his black t-shirt clinging to the incredible work of art that was his body. ‘It’s safe, Hector. I promise you.’

I couldn’t explain it, and maybe I didn’t need to, but hiding from the Witch Hunters had taken me back eighteen years. It was a surprise when I didn’t hear thethud,thud,thud, of an athame entering flesh.

It took great effort to remind myself that I wasn’t there. That I was actually far from that time, lost in another place, and I wasn’t alone. I had Arwyn.

I slipped from our hiding place before my body completely shut down. My limbs felt heavy, my skin frozen to ice, but as soon as I saw the heavy woollen blankets held by the woman on the riverbank, I felt my body relax.

Eleanor stood, waiting for us, a welcoming smile lifting the corners of her kind face. Blonde hair peaked from beneath the cap of her modest outfit. The bottom of her dress was entirely stained and torn from dragging across the ground. Even her apron looked worse for wear. I would’ve never looked at Eleanor and thoughtwitch, which was likely how she had evaded the Witch Hunters in such a small town. But then again, we all had our secrets.

‘It’s good to see you up and about, Briar child,’ Eleanor said, offering me the grey blanket as I pulled myself out of the river. ‘And just in time for the arrival of some unwanted guests. Hekate smiles kindly down on you.’

I took the blanket and hung it around my shoulders. The wool smelled of lavender, so strong it distracted me from the cold. I wondered if that was the point. ‘Thank you for watching over us.’

‘Tis no bother,’ Eleanor replied, ‘a witch always looks after her kin.’

Arwyn put himself slightly between us. I got the impression his natural impulse to act as a shield was hard to let go of, even in front of a proven ally. ‘Will they return?’

‘My husband has offered his service, and escorted the Witch Hunters to the nearest town for rest and comfort… not that the bastards deserve it. These checks are becoming more persistent, and we are hearing word that poor people from nearby villages are being sold out by their friends and family on the accusation of devil work. It seems no amount of blood satisfies them, innocent or no.’

‘They won’t ever…’ I began.

Arwyn shot me a look, silencing me. ‘The Witch Hunters will return. Our village was subject to the same searches, which is why we fled and ended up here.’

Ah, so we’re lying.

Eleanor didn’t know that we were not only strangers to this village, but to this time as well. Or maybe she did, since she’d seen the clothes we wore. Her choice to be silent about the anomalies only made me trust her easier.

‘Then we better get you warmed by the hearth before my husband returns, then I’m afraid it’s back to the stable for you both.’ Eleanor turned on her heel, beckoning us to follow her. She didn’t have a burning torch, so they way ahead was dark. Likely, she didn’t want to alert her neighbours that she was sneaking two, drenched-to-the-bone, men into her home. Otherwise she might be the next person they sold out to the Witch Hunters upon their return. ‘I have warmed water for you to wash in, and stew on the stove to fill your bellies. Hector, I’d like to see to your wounds again, I have a new batch of salve to use up before the ingredients go sour. Quick, the hour is late. Only demons lurk in the shadows, do not stray in them for too long.’

Arwyn had not long leftEleanor’s living room—if I could call it that—to wash. Our empty wooden bowls were left to the side after three helpings of Eleanor’s stew. I didn’t think I could ever say I’d eaten rabbit before, but the meat was surprisingly rich and tasty. The crusty bread we had devoured sat in my stomach, heavy as a stone, and yet the unpleasant feeling was welcome.

‘How’s that?’ Eleanor asked from behind me. She was sat on a stool, deft fingers massaging a thick white salve onto my bare skin. I had been the first to wash in the bucket of hearth-warmed water and my skin smelled like honey from the homemade soap she’d give me to use.

‘Could I lie and tell you my wounds still ache, just so I get this massage again?’ I asked, to her enjoyment. Eleanor’s laugh was a sweet as caramel, something she likely didn’t even know existed. I had to be careful with my words, to make sure I didn’t give away where we came from. But then again, Eleanor was smart enough to evade Witch Hunters—she likely knew something was amiss, even if she was going along with Arwyn’s lies.

‘The infection has eased, and the wounds completely healed. Beside the scars, I don’t think you’ll need any more aid after this last batch.’ Eleanor finished applying the salve, drawing symbols and runes across my skin whilst murmuring spells beneath her breath. I couldn’t feel the magic like a physical presence, but I certainly sensed it in the way she carried herself.

I knew my question would give away my lack of knowledge of this time, but I couldn’t help but ask it. ‘What are those…creatures? The birds that did this to me?’

Eleanor’s tone darkened as she replied. ‘Demons. Creatures of the dark. Agents of misery and misrule.’

I could hear Arwyn upstairs, his footsteps creaking across the floorboards. It was safe for me to press on, knowing he couldn’t hear. ‘And these demons are kept out of the village by the stone circle?’

Eleanor hummed her confirmation. ‘Indeed the pesky mites are.’

‘I’m not familiar with this magic,’ I admitted, further giving away my differences.

‘I thought that was the case.’ Eleanor stood from her stool, confirmed she was done and allowed me to put her husband’s spare tunic on. It hung over my frame like a dress, whereas it likely would’ve fit Arwyn perfectly. Even now, I couldn’t rid the image of his body from my mind, nor his warmth from my skin.

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