Page 8 of Magic in the Woods
CHAPTER FIVE
Dafni
My eyelids wouldn’t cooperate.I told them to open, and they flat-out refused. Though I felt weak, it was disorienting with my eyes closed—not knowing if it was day or night, not knowing who spoon-fed me broth and gently wiped the drips that fell down my chin with a cloth napkin. I could’ve been on a boat in the middle of the sea or deep underground.
But I knew I wasn’t. I could hear birds chirping through the open window, letting in a warm breeze that tickled my nose.
Day.
I didn’t have enough strength to scratch it with my fingers, so the itch festered.
The crickets were loud, playing in their own orchestra with their back legs.
Night.
There was a constant buzzing noise in my head, faint butstill loud enough that I knew I’d overdone it. I was lying in this state because I’d used too much of my magic.
I let myself relax a bit and my body replenish. No one was hurting me—in fact, they seemed to be taking care of me. I was somewhere quiet, maybe even pleasant. Somewhere that felt comforting, like my grandmother’s cottage, once again hidden from the real world.
After the first few cycles of bird calls, followed by the chirping of crickets, my limbs stopped aching and my head cleared. My thoughts were no longer slow, like they were trudging through thick fog. They were quicker, my hearing clearer. I could understand what was going on around me. The scrape of a chair, the clink of silverware being set on a table. Quiet conversations and the occasional outburst of laughter. The stir of a wooden spoon in a pot.
Grandmother.A single tear fell out of the corner of my eye, making its way down my cheek and neck. I felt it pool along my collarbone.
“She still hasn’t woken up,” a male voice said—the first voice I’d heard clearly in days.
My mind snapped to attention.
“She’s awake. She just isn’t ready to open her eyes yet.” This voice was female. Warm.
“Do you think she can hear us?” The third voice sounded honeyed. A young girl, perhaps.
“You know, I bet she can.” The warm woman’s voice drifted closer. A cool washcloth met my forehead, cooling my body. It was hot in here. I suddenly realized I didn’t have any sheets draped over me, just the light draping of a nightgown perhaps.
Warm air brushed my ear. “You can open your eyes, you know. You’re safe here,” the young, honeyed voice whispered. She breathed softly again into my ear before she pulled away.The breeze her body made as she retreated sent goose bumps along the side of my arm.
I tried. I really tried to open them for her.
“Give her more time, Emily. She’ll come back to us soon.” A hand brushed my cheek before I heard the shuffling of feet and the door closing.
I was alone. Safe.
Still, my eyelids wouldn’t open. I needed more time.
“So fierce even without your poison—no one could ever tell that you didn’t have it. But we all know that you lack it, don’t we, Dafni? Lack what makes a witch a witch.” My mother opened her mouth. Green liquid dripped from her gums and down her white teeth. “You may as well stay with the dogs; you no longer have a place among the Coven.”
She threw her head back, cackling into the void. Every vibration of her laugh sent tremors through my body, making me shake uncontrollably.
I came to, gasping for air, my hands supporting my body behind me as I sat up in bed. A bad dream. It was just a bad dream. The sun was shining through the shades of a small window high near the bed. The pale yellow shades billowed in the breeze. As the curtains blew into the room, I caught a glance of the window that was propped open by a piece of wood. The glass was hazy, covered with grime.
Slowly, I took in my surroundings for the first time. It was a simple room. I was in a single bed with a pillow behind me and a quilt now covering me. The quilt was off-white, clean, but obviously aged. The walls were also a stark white with a few oily handprints and black scuffs. A wooden chair covered with scratches sat in the corner, and a bucket with a dry cloth drapedover the side sat on the seat. A simple table sat next to my bed with an illuminated lamp on—just like the one back in our cottage.
There was still buzzing in my head. I reached over and pulled the chain that turned the lamp off. With a click, the room darkened slightly, still lit by the sun streaming through the curtained window. The buzzing sound continued in my ears. It was probably my body telling me I wasn’t at full strength yet. Warning me to take the time to rebuild, regroup, and strengthen myself.
I couldn’t take on the Coven, let alone a single witch, if I hadn’t fully recovered. I needed more time.
The door handle jiggled, turning back and forth. A few muffled curse words met my ears before a man fell through the door, his eyes on the handle that had just wronged him. He twisted the knob back and forth with his wrist, testing the latch. Blond hair fell into his eyes as he leaned over. He shook his head, rearranging his hair away from his eyes. With a swift twist of the wrist, he let the door handle go, sighing deeply. My mind froze, though my arms moved, pulling the quilt on the bed tighter against my waist, as if it would afford me some sort of protection.
Without looking my way, he walked over to the chair, took the cloth that was draped over the side of the bucket, and dipped it in. He looked so large standing there, his back to me. He wore a cream-colored shirt that almost matched the quilt covering my legs. Sweat had soaked through the fabric covering his lower back, creating a line of circles along his spine. Tan baggy pants with lots of pockets covered his lower half, the right side sagging a bit with the weight of a large ring of keys clipped to his belt.That’s the man who found me—the one I pushed away with my magic,I realized.
