Wood Witch and the Bounty Hunter

Ronan Hargrove generally didn’t like to stab anyone before breakfast, because nothing was worse than your breakfast getting cold. But when someone interrupted his morning meal by trying to stab him first, he didn’t have a lot of choice.

He was supposed to capture the twitchy-looking man at the corner table and haul him back to the city of Lionsdale to face trial for his crimes. The bounty placed on him had specified they wanted him alive, which was another reason that Ronan hadn’t planned on stabbing him. But the man, Elliot Flemmish, had apparently recognized Ronan as a member of the Lionsdale Bounty Hunter Guild. Ronan was good at his job, so naturally word got around a bit and sometimes it complicated things for him.

Times like today, because Flemmish had twitched up from his seat in the corner and acted like he was going to leave the tavern but instead he drew a knife and made a lunge for Ronan. Ronan dodged the blow with ease, also moving his plate slightly so that it wasn’t upended by Flemmish’s flailing.

“I’m just trying to eat,” Ronan sighed.

“I know who you are, bounty hunter,” Flemmish snapped, scowling fiercely at him.

“Oh, really? I thought maybe you just didn’t like my face,” Ronan said sarcastically. Flemmish made another clumsy attempt to stab him in the face and Ronan stood up, drawing one of his own blades. He was considerably larger than the scrawny man in front of him and Flemmish seemed to be realizing his calculated risk in attacking him hadn’t quite added up. That’s why you should always double check your work.

Flemmish tried now to bolt and Ronan let out another sigh, following the man through the tavern. It was early but the place was already pretty packed as miners who lived in town rose early for work. Ronan moved easily among the tables while Flemmish kept bumping into them and earning a lot of annoyed cursing.

Flemmish had nearly reached the door when Ronan caught him by the back of his cloak, jerking him back. With a swift move he’d knocked the man unconscious with the hilt of his large knife. Then he dragged him back to his table, reaching into his travel bag for some thick rope. He soon had Flemmish hogtied on the floor by his table, and used the man like a foot rest while he finished his breakfast. No one bothered him this time, and thankfully his eggs hadn’t gone cold and chewy.

Ronan tossed the waitress an extra coin for the trouble on his way out. The Guild provided him with a horse when he needed to travel long distances; Briar was a pretty black mare with a shock of white down her nose and dainty white socks. She watched him approach, dragging a still unconscious Flemmish. Her ears twitched and she huffed at him.

“Yeah, I brought you an apple,” Ronan said, pulling it out of the pocket of his cloak. He wasn’t much of a people person but he’d always gotten along with horses just fine. Most of the money he kept for himself from his hunting jobs he was saving to buy Briar so she was officially his. No one else at the Guild did more than the bare minimum for the horses they provided. He hitched Briar up to a small rolling cage and tossed Flemmish inside like a sack of potatoes.

He traveled through the night, wanting to get home as soon as possible and collect the bounty on Flemmish’s head. It wasn’t as substantial as some, but it should keep his family well fed for at least a couple of weeks. Flemmish cursed at him a lot on the journey and Ronan wasn’t sad to see him dragged off by the magistrates when he dumped him at their feet. He collected his payment, gave Briar a proper brushing and made sure her stall was clean, and then hurried home.

The house was modest, and didn’t seem like it should be able to contain the amount of energy inside. Ronan’s mother, Linnea, was trying to wrangle all five of his younger siblings as he came inside.

“Geoffrey, don’t put that in your mouth! Freddie stop poking your sister-Annabelle, for god’s sake, don’t punch him in the head!”

“But he was poking me!” Annabelle protested.

“That doesn’t mean you give him a concussion! Hannah, I know you’re not sneaking off without washing your plate. And where is Jude? He’s missing breakfast.”

“He’s on the roof reading again,” Freddie said, rubbing his head where Annabelle had socked him. Her punches were getting better. Ronan took a moment to lean in the doorway and smile a little. It was usually chaos in the Hargrove house but he loved to see it. If they were all roughhousing and having breakfast, it meant they were doing okay.

“You bunch of little donkeys better have saved me some sausage,” Ronan said, announcing his presence. There was an excited chorus of, “Ronan’s home!” before he was ambushed by a pack of children and teenagers. Even Jude had at some point slipped down from the roof and come in through his window. He raced over and fairly leaped on top of his siblings, nearly sending them all crashing to the ground.

“Let your brother breathe!” Linnea scolded, but she was smiling. Ronan untangled himself from the mess of limbs and went to give his mother a hug. He handed her the bag of coins he’d received.

“This ought to keep you for a while,” he said. She gave him a slightly sad smile and brushed his hair back.

“You look tired,” she said.

“It was a long ride back, is all.”

“That’s not the kind of tired I mean.”

Linnea had the same pale, flame-blue eyes as Ronan and now they regarded him with that sort of motherly knowing that made him want to squirm even though he was a grown man.

“I’m fine, Mom,” he said quietly. Ronan knew his family wanted him to stay home for a while, but the bounty for Flemmish hadn’t been that much and he knew he’d need to take on more jobs soon. He spent two days at home, listening patiently as his brothers and sisters caught him up on what he’d missed and helping his mother patch a small hole in the roof. He was thinking of spending another day or two at home, but on the third day he was summoned by Guildmaster Victor Benedict. The man gave no greeting as Ronan walked in, he just slapped a piece of paper on the desk.

“How’d you like to hunt a witch, Hargrove?”

“A witch?” Ronan repeated.

“She killed four people and then fled into the forest,” Victor explained. “From that little hamlet that lies out at the northern end of Lionsdale; Broadoak. You’re familiar with it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, they were positively terrorized by this witch. The bounty on her is quite impressive.”

Ronan glanced down at the paper, seeing a long list of crimes. He paused when he saw the bounty; it would probably keep his family in good condition for nearly a year.

“You won’t be the only one searching for her. The woman who issued the bounty wanted it to be Guild-wide, to be sure the witch is dealt with.”

“They want her alive?”

“The bounty is for one very dead witch.”

Ronan nodded, glancing again at the list of crimes. They were pretty brutal; as Victor had said, four people were murdered quite savagely and the few witnesses to the event had been driven to complete madness with some kind of black magic.

“She ran off to hide in Blackthorn Forest,” Victor went on. “It won’t be easy to find her. That forest isn’t huge but it’s dense and the weather can be unpredictable.”

Ronan nodded. “I’ll leave tonight,” he said. He went home to deliver the news that he had to leave again, and Linnea shushed his siblings when they started to pout about it. He gave each of them a hug and his mother placed a kiss on his cheek before he went to collect Briar and set off for Blackthorn Forest. It took a day and a half to reach it and as they rode up to the tree line Briar snorted and pranced a bit uneasily.

“I don’t like it either,” Ronan said. “But we can’t have witches butchering people and driving them insane, now can we?”

The first day in the forest wasn’t really so bad; Ronan liked being in nature and the ride through the trees was actually rather pleasant. But the next day a howling storm set in out of nowhere; Victor hadn’t been kidding about the unpredictable weather. The dark clouds and thick forest made it look like late evening despite it being around noon. He was squinting through the darkness in search of a place where they might find a bit of shelter when Briar suddenly drew to a halt and tossed her head in agitation.

Ronan drew a knife, trying to hear anything over the rain and wind. A flash of lightning faintly illuminated the trees, giving him all of about half a second to see the massive wolf before it leaped and knocked him clean off Briar’s back. The horse let out a sharp, frightened cry and tried to kick the wolf. But it was already tumbling down a small incline, trying to lock its jaws on Ronan’s throat. He barely held it at bay; he was sure the force of the wolf slamming into him had broken something and then fangs sank into his shoulder. It was better than his throat but the pain was still breathtaking.

Ronan slashed the wolf’s side with his blade and it reared back with a snarl and a whimper. It growled low in its throat as he tried to get to his feet. It lunged again, knocking him back with savage force and his head slammed into the trunk of a huge tree. Ronan saw stars and felt claws take across his chest and was fairly certain the wolf was about to kill him. Then he heard hooves on the soft ground and the wolf made another pained whimpering sound before it slunk off into the trees. Briar nudged him with her muzzle as the rain began to stop.

“Briar, why are there two of you?” Ronan mumbled, his vision going fuzzy. She huffed in his face and then the world spun and went dark.