Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
What if the witch hadn’t come for the village? What if she’d come for him?
His chest tightened. If the magic had returned, if it had found him again—he’d face it. He had no choice. But the thought of Ingrid caught in it, suffering for a past she had no part in, that he could not bear.
He wouldn’t lose her. Not to this. Not to anything.
He stepped around the bend in the path, his cottage coming into view through the trees, a slant of moonlight silvering its thatched roof and casting long shadows across the area. The firewood was still stacked neatly by the door. All seemed still, untouched.
Then he stopped.
Someone stood near the edge of the clearing, half-shrouded in darkness where the trees thickened. Tall. Cloaked. Unmoving. No torch, no lantern. Just the glint of moonlight on what might have been a braid of white hair, or the curve of a hood.
His breath caught.
He knew that silhouette.
A year might have passed, but the image was burned into him like an old scar—the figure who had stepped from the forest that night, when he and the others had laughed and made their foolish wishes around the fire. The one who had granted their wishes and disappeared as fast as she had arrived, leaving damage in her wake.
Now, here she was again. Or was she? Was it his guilt or misgivings for what he had done that made him think it was her?
He took a slow, deliberate step forward, eyes locked on the figure.
“Who’s there?” he called, his voice low but firm.
He was met with silence.
He took another step, firm but unsure.
The figure tilted its head, just slightly, as though studying him.
And then—it was gone.
Not like someone running. Not like someone slipping behind a tree.
Gone.
Nowhere to be seen.
Raff’s pulse pounded in his ears. He stood there a long moment, unmoving, waiting. Listening.
Nothing.
Only the creak of a distant branch. The kind of silence that felt too still to be natural.
He made his way to the cottage door, every step slow, his hand brushing the hilt of his blade though some part of him knew a weapon would do little good against what might be out there.
Before he stepped inside, he looked once more toward the edge of the trees.
Empty.
But the memory, fresh and sharp, clung to him like smoke.
She’s come back, he thought. But why?
CHAPTER 11
Agust of wind swirled around Raff as he stood after securing another bundle of grain. He cast a glance at the gray clouds that had suddenly rushed in not long ago. Rain was most likely which would hamper the day’s work. There were several tasks that still needed to be done if they were to be ready for the harvest celebration.
He pulled his shoulders back, easing the taut muscles in his back as he watched several women, baskets filled to the brim with dried flowers and ribbons, in preparation for the woven garlands that would grace the village for the celebration, hurrying their steps to join the group of women already at work. It was a celebration everyone was looking forward to, himself included.
It had been several days since he and Ingrid had returned from market. The talk of witches had not vanished. It merely slept with one eye open, passed in whispers behind closed doors, avoided under the open sky. Even he and Ingrid hadn’t spoken about it much. It was as though if avoided, perhaps no more would be made of it.
He and Ingrid had spent much time together, sharing some meals, sitting by the outside fire in the evening and talking, taking walks, and sharing kisses. The more he kissed her, the more he wanted to, and the more he knew he wanted to make a home with her.
He had watched, more intently, the people in the village to see if it was at all possible to spot a witch. But he saw nothing out of the ordinary. People were pleasant with a few disagreements here and there but as a whole the village was a pleasant place. Presently, there were no serious illnesses and a healer from a nearby clan visited now and again or was called on if needed. All was good. Surely, if there was a witch among them things would not be so pleasant.
But what about the figure he saw the other night? Was it real? Had he brought the witch down upon his clan and this village? And though he was intent on finding out, how did one go about finding a witch?
Raff spotted Ingrid and she waved, then lifted a jug and smiled. It was time for a respite, so he smiled and hurried to her.
She handed him a filled tankard when he reached her. “You have been working hard since sunrise.”
“We need to be done in time for the celebration. Besides, the land needs to be ready to rest for winter.” He leaned his head down closer to hers. “A time spent more indoors by the hearth, preferably not alone.”