Wood Witch and the Bounty Hunter
Four
Needless to say, Flora didn’t sleep at all for the rest of the night. There was a tiny cut on her neck where the blade had been held, nearly slicing her a new smile from ear to ear. She had never been faced with death like that, and the thought terrified her. She spent all night sobbing under the covers of her bed, and it lasted well into the next afternoon. She knew Ronan was still downstairs, and every now and again he was checking up on her from the doorway. He didn’t say anything, but she was sure he was just checking that she didn’t try to escape.
Eventually she heard him actually enter the room and sit down on the edge of the bed. She peeked out from under the covers and saw that he had a bowl of her soup from the day before with him. She looked at him cautiously, but he wasn’t looking at her.
“You need to eat something,” he said, almost like it was an instruction. “I heated this up from last night. Hope you don’t mind.”
She hesitantly came out from under the covers and took the bowl, though she kept her distance from him. Not that two feet would do much if he wanted her dead, but still. Her face was still puffy from crying and she felt nauseous, but she slowly took a few bites of the soup. They were silent for a while, until Flora finally spoke up.
“I knew they hated me,” she said quietly. “Back in town, I mean. That’s why I left. I had a potion shop to help people, but they would blame me any time something went wrong. The mayor went bald, and he thought that was my fault. So I left. But accusing me of murder? Murdering children? I can’t imagine what I did to deserve that. I left. I left so they would feel comfortable.”
He didn’t say anything at first, but Flora could tell Ronan was deep in thought. She could also tell that he had a hard time looking directly at her. He would glance at her for a brief moment, then turn his attention to the floor or the wall.
“And everything it says about black magic,” he said. “You didn’t do any of it? No sacrificing children?”
“No,” Flora said in exasperation. “I don’t even know how to use black magic. It takes personal sacrifice to do it. It would be visible.”
“What do you mean?” He asked.
She held out her hands, palms facing up.
“Black magic decays your mortal body from the inside out,” she explained. “The more you use it and the more power you want, the more you decay. If I was using black magic, my fingertips would be pitch black. If I went as far as sacrificing a whole family, the decay might have been up to my forearms by now.”
He looked down at her hands, which were clear of any decayed appearance. He took one of her hands and rubbed at it like he was expecting some sort of cover up to wipe off, but her hands were the real deal. She had never touched black magic.
He dropped her hand and she drew them back, holding herself tightly. Ronan was running a hand over his face.
“Alright,” he sighed. “We have to figure out who framed you so we can both move on from this. Where do you keep your tools?”
“Tools?” Flora asked, furrowing her brow at the sudden change of subject. “Tools,” he repeated impatiently. “Hammers, nails… tools. So I can patch the roof before that leak gets worse.”
“I’m confused.”
“I just want to know where your tools are.” She hesitated a few moments before answering him.
“Uh, it’s in the shed in the back,” she said. “Next to the garden. Which you’re welcome to, by the way. If you need anything for Briar.”
He just gave her a nod before leaving the room. Flora stayed in bed a little longer and finished the soup before it got cold. Chip flew in through the window and sat on the edge of the bowl she held.
“I think I have to get out of here, Chip,” Flora said miserably. “I love my house, but I think I’m a target. And I think a certain hunter still has a chance to change his mind about letting me live.”
She could hear Ronan working on the roof, using the hammer to patch the leak instead of smash her skull in. Still, that could change. She finally got out of bed and moved to her closet, digging through some of her potion supplies until she found a jar of a shimmery blue liquid. She went out on the balcony and climbed up to the roof, where Ronan was working.
He wiped some sweat from his forehead and Flora was hyper aware of the hammer in his hand, though he wasn’t aiming it at her head. Yet. She stayed on the stable part of the roof, showing him the jar.
“What is that, poison?” he asked.
“The opposite, actually,” she said. “Mermaid tears. A single drop can heal any flesh wound. I use it in my healing potions. It’s a rare substance, and an entire jar like this can fetch a pretty good price on the black market.”
He seemed a little more interested now, looking at the shimmery jar.
“You’re giving up a lot of money by not killing me,” Flora continued. “This won’t get you as much money as my bounty, but it will get you a comfortable sum. I want to sell it, and give you the money.”
He didn’t say anything, but watched her with a furrowed brow. For a split second, she thought he looked a little guilty. He opened his mouth to say something, but an arrow suddenly flew between them and buried itself in a tree near the house. Ronan didn’t even flinch, but Flora shrieked and ducked. He stood up on the roof and peered out at the woods, seeing an archer emerge from the brush.
“Watch your aim,” he called out to the archer.
“You need to get out of the way,” the archer said. “The witch is up there, I know she is.”
“There is no witch,” Ronan said. “I live here alone. Just leave quietly and there won’t be any trouble.”
Another arrow flew at Ronan’s head, but he moved to the side and dodged it. Then he swiftly chucked the hammer in his hand down. Flora felt nauseous when it buried itself in the archer’s head, but Ronan seemed unbothered. He just knelt back down and nudged her back towards the balcony.
“Get inside and start packing,” he said. “A small bag you can carry.” “O-okay,” she stammered, ducking back into her bedroom.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to find out who framed you,” he said. “It won’t do us much good to stay here.”
“We can find my sister,” she suggested. “Elise may be able to help. Maybe she knows who may have a vendetta against me.”
“You have a sister?”
“Technically no,” Flora admitted. “She and I trained together, so I call her my sister. It’s complicated.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Great start,” Ronan sighed. “Okay. It’s something, I guess. Just pack a bag.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t forget the tears.”
Flora looked down at the jar in her hands, surprised he was letting her hold on to it for now instead of taking it right away. She supposed it would be a bit of a loss for her, but it was the only thing of value she owned that could pull a price even a little bit close to the bounty on her head. She was willing to give it up if it meant Ronan was on her side rather than throwing hammers at her head.
Eventually she heard him actually enter the room and sit down on the edge of the bed. She peeked out from under the covers and saw that he had a bowl of her soup from the day before with him. She looked at him cautiously, but he wasn’t looking at her.
“You need to eat something,” he said, almost like it was an instruction. “I heated this up from last night. Hope you don’t mind.”
She hesitantly came out from under the covers and took the bowl, though she kept her distance from him. Not that two feet would do much if he wanted her dead, but still. Her face was still puffy from crying and she felt nauseous, but she slowly took a few bites of the soup. They were silent for a while, until Flora finally spoke up.
“I knew they hated me,” she said quietly. “Back in town, I mean. That’s why I left. I had a potion shop to help people, but they would blame me any time something went wrong. The mayor went bald, and he thought that was my fault. So I left. But accusing me of murder? Murdering children? I can’t imagine what I did to deserve that. I left. I left so they would feel comfortable.”
He didn’t say anything at first, but Flora could tell Ronan was deep in thought. She could also tell that he had a hard time looking directly at her. He would glance at her for a brief moment, then turn his attention to the floor or the wall.
“And everything it says about black magic,” he said. “You didn’t do any of it? No sacrificing children?”
“No,” Flora said in exasperation. “I don’t even know how to use black magic. It takes personal sacrifice to do it. It would be visible.”
“What do you mean?” He asked.
She held out her hands, palms facing up.
“Black magic decays your mortal body from the inside out,” she explained. “The more you use it and the more power you want, the more you decay. If I was using black magic, my fingertips would be pitch black. If I went as far as sacrificing a whole family, the decay might have been up to my forearms by now.”
He looked down at her hands, which were clear of any decayed appearance. He took one of her hands and rubbed at it like he was expecting some sort of cover up to wipe off, but her hands were the real deal. She had never touched black magic.
He dropped her hand and she drew them back, holding herself tightly. Ronan was running a hand over his face.
“Alright,” he sighed. “We have to figure out who framed you so we can both move on from this. Where do you keep your tools?”
“Tools?” Flora asked, furrowing her brow at the sudden change of subject. “Tools,” he repeated impatiently. “Hammers, nails… tools. So I can patch the roof before that leak gets worse.”
“I’m confused.”
“I just want to know where your tools are.” She hesitated a few moments before answering him.
“Uh, it’s in the shed in the back,” she said. “Next to the garden. Which you’re welcome to, by the way. If you need anything for Briar.”
He just gave her a nod before leaving the room. Flora stayed in bed a little longer and finished the soup before it got cold. Chip flew in through the window and sat on the edge of the bowl she held.
“I think I have to get out of here, Chip,” Flora said miserably. “I love my house, but I think I’m a target. And I think a certain hunter still has a chance to change his mind about letting me live.”
She could hear Ronan working on the roof, using the hammer to patch the leak instead of smash her skull in. Still, that could change. She finally got out of bed and moved to her closet, digging through some of her potion supplies until she found a jar of a shimmery blue liquid. She went out on the balcony and climbed up to the roof, where Ronan was working.
He wiped some sweat from his forehead and Flora was hyper aware of the hammer in his hand, though he wasn’t aiming it at her head. Yet. She stayed on the stable part of the roof, showing him the jar.
“What is that, poison?” he asked.
“The opposite, actually,” she said. “Mermaid tears. A single drop can heal any flesh wound. I use it in my healing potions. It’s a rare substance, and an entire jar like this can fetch a pretty good price on the black market.”
He seemed a little more interested now, looking at the shimmery jar.
“You’re giving up a lot of money by not killing me,” Flora continued. “This won’t get you as much money as my bounty, but it will get you a comfortable sum. I want to sell it, and give you the money.”
He didn’t say anything, but watched her with a furrowed brow. For a split second, she thought he looked a little guilty. He opened his mouth to say something, but an arrow suddenly flew between them and buried itself in a tree near the house. Ronan didn’t even flinch, but Flora shrieked and ducked. He stood up on the roof and peered out at the woods, seeing an archer emerge from the brush.
“Watch your aim,” he called out to the archer.
“You need to get out of the way,” the archer said. “The witch is up there, I know she is.”
“There is no witch,” Ronan said. “I live here alone. Just leave quietly and there won’t be any trouble.”
Another arrow flew at Ronan’s head, but he moved to the side and dodged it. Then he swiftly chucked the hammer in his hand down. Flora felt nauseous when it buried itself in the archer’s head, but Ronan seemed unbothered. He just knelt back down and nudged her back towards the balcony.
“Get inside and start packing,” he said. “A small bag you can carry.” “O-okay,” she stammered, ducking back into her bedroom.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to find out who framed you,” he said. “It won’t do us much good to stay here.”
“We can find my sister,” she suggested. “Elise may be able to help. Maybe she knows who may have a vendetta against me.”
“You have a sister?”
“Technically no,” Flora admitted. “She and I trained together, so I call her my sister. It’s complicated.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Great start,” Ronan sighed. “Okay. It’s something, I guess. Just pack a bag.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t forget the tears.”
Flora looked down at the jar in her hands, surprised he was letting her hold on to it for now instead of taking it right away. She supposed it would be a bit of a loss for her, but it was the only thing of value she owned that could pull a price even a little bit close to the bounty on her head. She was willing to give it up if it meant Ronan was on her side rather than throwing hammers at her head.