Page 29 of Witchlore
“Well, maybe it doesn’t like having sudden bursts of ridiculously bright light shot at it!” Bastian yells.
“You did it, too!”
I dodge a tree and drop Bastian’s hand, the boggart whistling and gnashing its teeth behind us. I am just one trip, one tree root, one false step away from those horrible teeth plunging into me, dragging me back to whatever hole or grave beneath the earth it lives in. I can almost feel it, the cold dirt covering me, the sharp pain of stinging incisors ripping into my flesh, and I can smell it, that moldering dusty smell, getting closer and closer.
“Watch out!”
Bastian tackles me and we thud painfully to the ground, tree roots digging into my spine, and then we’re rolling down one of the clough’s ravines. We’re tumbling and my head is hitting stones and then, suddenly, we stop.
“Don’t get up, don’t move, they can’t see very far,” Bastian hisses. “Try not to make a noise.”
We lie there, Bastian pressing down on top of me, both of us listening intently to every sound above us. My heart is pounding sickeningly, like it’s separated and migrated around my body, clamoring in my throat and my legs and arms, so loudly I think the boggart must hear it. Yet, as we lie there, our breath hot and fast against each other’s face, all we can hear is a slow munching far away. I fumble against Bastian’s leg and reach down to check my pocket.
“I must have dropped the Babybels,” I whisper. Bastian stares down at me.
“Saved by vegan Babybels,” he whispers back, smiling wryly. It gives me tingles from my elbows to my wrists. It’s different than before. I want to match his tone with something light, but my heart won’t slow down and every part of my body hurts. My clothes all fit weirdly again and I’m suddenly very conscious of it.
“No,yousaved us.” I wriggle out from under him, aware of the awkwardness of it, my new boobs brushing against him, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Not just me,” he says. “Thanks for, y’know, distracting it.”
“I do seem to be very distracting.”
I only mean it in the sense that it’s really all I’ve been good for so far (if this was a tabletop game the value of my character would be extremely fucking low), but I hear my own words and blush violently.
“I didn’t mean it like that…” I mumble, but then that’s so muchworsebecause now I’ve put the idea in his head!Stop it, you absolute muppet,I chide myself, but luckily, Bastian doesn’t seem to notice my internal agony.
“Come on,” he says, and we crawl away on our bellies, nothing but rasping breath and the squelch of leaves between us. As we do, I wonder why he did it, why he threw himself at me to save me from the boggart, but that leads my mind down uncomfortable paths that give me butterflies. Except I can’t have butterflies for anyone but Elizabeth so I guess they’re the rubbish version of butterflies. Mosquitoes.
I know we are far enough away when I can no longer hear it, the mulching sound, and I start to think maybe I even imagined it, but my knees are soaked through with wet mud and Bastian’s ring still has a slight unearthly glow. He really did that exceptionally powerful spell. We really saw a boggart. It happened.
“You look different,” Bastian says, standing up and turning on his phone light to look at me.
“Yeah, well, I shifted,” I say uncomfortably. I reach up to pat my face. It’s rounder, my hair is coarser than it was before and falling over my shoulders; my jeans fit differently, too baggy at the waist and way too tight on the bum. I wince.
“Everyone said you couldn’t control it.” Bastian shook his head. “I didn’t think it would be so… violent.”
“Just be glad you’re not dead,” I snap, thinking of Elizabeth.
“Yeah, but I wonder why,” Bastian says, completely undeterred. “Why did you have such a big magical discharge then that youkilledsomeone? I mean, I’m obviously fine—”
“Can we not talk about it?” I glare at him, grimacing and rubbing my elbow. I bashed it in the roll.
“I’m not trying to be a prat,” Bastian says. “I’m just saying that maybe… it had more to do with the spell she was casting than to do with you. Maybe it wasn’t your fault.”
I stare at him for a long minute. It seems like maybe the kindestand the cruelest thing to say to me right now. I don’t know what to do with it, this possibility of hope and forgiveness and relief from the guilt that’s eating away at my heart.
“Its name is Elander.” I jerk my head back up the ravine toward where the boggart was. “Can we go now?”
“Sure.” Bastian nods and pulls out his phone, opening maps. “We can get back on the path down here. Come on.”
“Okay… whoa.” I stumble against him and Bastian grabs my elbow. It feels weird now to think of holding his hand, but up there, facing the boggart, it had felt totally normal. I flush and mumble, “Different legs,” but I can’t stop myself from leaning on him.
“So,” I say as we stagger through the dark. “About the spell you used on the boggart.”
“Oh.” Bastian doesn’t speak for a few steps. “I thought you were out of it. To be honest, for a second, I thought you were dead.”
“No, I saw it.” I think about how to bring it up in a way that isn’t accusatory. “That was pretty powerful witchcraft.”
