It had happened again.

Theiden stared up at the rafters in disbelief. He squeezed his eyes shut, and then reopened them. Sure enough, sunlight had found its way up to his cot in the loft, spilling over the stacks of books walled around him and giving a golden hue to the motes of dust floating in the air.

It was dawn—in other words, he had slept soundly through the night and failed to kill the witch. Again.

Like the previous morning, the witch was somehow up before he was—a fact evidenced by the muffled sounds of life coming from downstairs. Theiden wondered if creatures like her ever actually slept.

Sighing in annoyance, Theiden got to his feet. He ignored the fresh set of clothes laid out for him and instead made his way through the maze of books to the loft ladder. This time, there was no cat-shaped witchlight to eye him from the armchair as his feet touched the floor.

The witch was chopping fruit on a cutting board in the kitchen, and Theiden slowly approached her, keeping his eyes on the blade.

"Good morning," the witch began, much as she had the day before.

"How long are you going to keep me here?" he said, ignoring her greeting. It would certainly never be a good morning until the witch was dead, and he was free of her.

A slight twitch of her lips was the only indication of the creature's displeasure. "There are only two ways that you can leave this place," she said. "Either I let you go, or you kill me."

"Until today, then," Theiden answered his own question. He lunged for the knife in the witch's hands, but she stepped back just in time to evade him. There was the sound of metal slicing through the air, and for a moment, Theiden found his vision obscured by a whirl of ocean blue fabric. Then he felt the sharp chill at his neck.

The witch had moved behind him, and was now pressing the blade of the knife against his skin.

"You're a hunter, aren't you?" she asked coldly. "Those knives you were carrying when we met looked like they had been well-used."

The blade slowly traced its way up his neck, and Theiden had to fight back the instinct to shiver as the witch continued. Her breath ghosted across the skin at his nape, just as cold as the weapon in her hand.

"You know how to kill, but you're irrational when you're angry. You might as well be a baker who over-samples his own pastries, for all the grace you had when you attacked me just now. Careless."

Finally, Theiden felt her step away, and the metal dropped from his neck.

"I'll be sure to be more efficient next time," he growled.

The witch chuckled humorlessly. "You have a long way to go yet, before you can be called efficient."

Theiden clenched his jaw. "I will kill you, one day."

"Yes, yes, I deserve nothing short of a painful death for being such a horrid creature—something along those lines, am I correct?"

The witch didn't seem too bothered by his threat, and it only angered Theiden more. He fought to keep his expression neutral.

"You can't keep me here forever," he argued.

To his surprise, the woman nodded and washed off the knife at the sink.

"You're right. It's good to move around. Perhaps we shall travel to a different mountain, in a few years."

She stored the knife in a drawer, and looked up. Upon seeing Theiden's frustrated expression, the creature only widened her wicked grin.

"Breakfast's ready," she announced.

Without waiting for Theiden to respond, the witch brushed past him and set two plates of fruit, toast, and cheese down on the table. Theiden's stomach gave a small grumble, and he grudgingly turned and approached the food.

This time, there were three chairs at the table, so the witch hadn't needed to adjust the height of the furniture to sit on the floor.

"Well, have a seat," she commanded.

"Don't tell me what to do." Theiden had half a mind to just eat standing, or perhaps take the dish up to the loft. Yes, the loft sounded like a very good place to eat his meal.

He reached forward to grab his plate, but it refused to budge.

"Uh-uh." The witch shook her head. "I don't want crumbs throughout my home. You either eat at this table with me, or not at all."

Magic. Theiden snatched his hand back as though it had been burned, and the evil woman quirked an eyebrow. "You ate with me yesterday," she said. Her tone was sharp with false curiosity. "What's changed? Did you think you would have been rid of me by the end of the day?"

He had, in fact, but Theiden refused to admit it. As soon as he got ahold of one of the knives in the kitchen, he would drive it straight through her heart. Until then, he would just have to bide his time.

Theiden sat on one of the chairs, albeit a bit hesitantly. Would it try to walk off in the middle of his meal? But the wood remained sturdy and unmoving. He gave it a subtle tap with a fingernail. It felt just like any other chair.

Theiden turned his attention to his food, and took a bite of toast. He hated to admit that anything from the witch was good—but maybe it was just his hunger that made the food seem better than it was. Or perhaps she had enchanted it. Nonetheless, Theiden found himself eating every bite of the food on his plate. When he had finished, he looked up.

The witch was smiling.

Theiden blinked. It was a different smile than before—not devious, but something similar to the expression Em had worn when she had successfully knitted a pair of socks for her grandmother, or fixed the bookshelf in the living room all by herself.

"You liked it?" the creature asked, and the eagerness in her tone soured the taste in Theiden's mouth.

"What do you care?" he growled.

Her smile dropped and her eerie amethyst-colored eyes lost their brightness. "It's a good thing you finished quickly," she said, in a voice now as dull as her gaze. "Let's go for a walk."

"A wa—" The witch stood up from the table before Theiden could finish processing her words. "Wait, why?"

He jumped up from the table and followed her to the sink. "Where are we going?"

The witch shrugged as she scrubbed her plate. "You stayed inside all day yesterday. It's not good for your health."

Theiden snorted in disbelief. "Like you care."

The witch's gaze was serious. "Do you wish to always remain indoors, then?"

"No," Theiden muttered. His voice was heavy with the disgust he felt at the prospect of spending even more time in the witch's presence. But he could use the opportunity to familiarize himself with the area and plan an escape for later. And while he hated to admit the witch was right, he was sick of being stuck inside.

"Very well, then," she said, taking Theiden's plate to wash.

With nothing else to do, Theiden stalked to the front door and grabbed his coat. His boots were still slumped against the wall where he had left them the day before, and he kicked off his fleece slippers to yank the boots on instead.

A shifting of shadows alerted him of the witch's presence behind him, and he turned so that she wouldn't be at his unprotected back.

"Follow me," she said, sweeping out the door. The witchlight, which had been watching them from a ceiling beam, launched itself into the air after the witch. As it passed, Theiden felt the creature's wingtips brush his shoulder. He wasn't sure why the thing had decided on a raven form today, but he felt that its near-miss hadn't been an accident.

"Would you keep your witchlight away from me?" he snapped, stepping outside and closing the cottage door. It was a shame he no longer had his hunting knife, or he would have tried taking a swipe at the glowing blue bird.

"He's a wisp, not a witchlight," the witch called over her shoulder as she headed into the trees. "And he has a name: Shwei."

Shwei landed on the witch's shoulder and turned his head to look back at Theiden, who was lagging behind.

"Great, well, if you could keep your wisp away from me, then, I'd appreciate it," Theiden retorted. Shwei ruffled his feathers and turned to face forward.

"You'll have to ask him," the witch said, reaching up a hand to pet the glowing raven on her shoulder.

Theiden scoffed, and the witch turned back to face him.

"I'm being serious," she said.

"How much longer until we get to wherever we're going?" Theiden said as a way to change the subject. He wouldn't be asking a shape-shifting ball of light for any favors anytime soon.

The witch continued through the forest. "There is no destination," she answered. "Only the journey."

"That's ridiculous."

Theiden lapsed into a brooding silence and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. While Spring's approach had been palpable in the city, the icy frost of Winter still lingered up here in the mountains, and his fingertips were starting to numb. He trailed a good distance behind his captor, glare fixed mostly on the glowing pile of feathers on her shoulder.

Time stretched on in cloudy puffs of breath and the crunch of sticks and pebbles underfoot. Wind caressed the boughs of the mountain pines, whose needles whispered a soothing reply, and a bird sang somewhere in the distance. Theiden's furrowed brow unconsciously smoothed out into a more placid expression, and his shoulders loosened from their discontented hunch. After several long minutes of uncounted steps through the trees, Theiden realized that the hollow ache in his chest was the only reminder of the anger that he had been carrying for the past few days.

It was a relief.

He still hated the witch, of course. But the frustration at his situation, and being unable to do anything about it, had given way to patience, and hope. He would wait, and find a way to return to his family.

Finally, the witch stopped at the top of a cliff that looked out over the western lands. In the distance, Theiden could just make out the slanted rooftops of Patachal City. They were farther away than he had realized—though, perhaps traveling through the faerie ring had distorted his perception of the distance they had traveled to the witch's home.

https://youtu.be/RN1_-AB7LO4

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" the witch said. When Theiden refused to answer, she turned away from him to look out once more at the view. After a moment of contemplation, a soft cry escaped her lips, in a melody that gradually grew louder and echoed through the trees. Then she cupped her hands around her mouth and repeated the sound. The call was haunting but somewhat triumphant at the same time, and the witch's voice warbled in a way that Theiden had never quite heard before.

It lasted for only a few moments, and then she turned back to him, seemingly energized by her song. Despite his hatred for the witch, Theiden found himself wishing he could have listened to the melody longer. Now, the mountains seemed to ring with the comparable silence after the ups and downs of the strange tune.

"Care to head back?" she said, a bit breathlessly. She brushed past him and hopped onto a rock, not bothering to check that he was following.

Theiden took one last glance at Patachal City. He would find a way to break free of the witch's binding curse and return to his family. But for now, he turned his back on his home and trailed after his captor.

~*~

Two chapters in two days?  I think it's a record for a slowpoke updater like me.  But anyway, here it is.  I'd love to hear your feedback!  And if you like it, please don't forget to vote.  :)

I took the inspiration for Lenesa's song from "kulning", a type of Swedish herding call.  It's not a witch song by any means, but its haunting tune is otherworldy enough that I felt the need to include it in this story.  I've had a bit of fun throwing in random tidbits like this in this story, so stay tuned for more!

image from coffeeinthemountains tumblr