Chapter 3
Avice
Avice and Bramble trudged determinedly across Robert Shepherd’s field and into the woods that bordered it. Always more relaxed amongst the plants and animals then she was around people, her shoulders dropped, and she let out a sigh.
She studied her surrounds as they marched, keeping watch for any flicker of green.
It was though the entire forest had been draped with a thick linen cloth, muffling all signs of life.
After trying to spot a hide or hair of an animal or the hint of a new bud, she turned her gaze upwards to the grey sky.
There, the ghostly branches of the brown trees grasped for the cloud-draped Sun.
They are praying for Spring, Avice mused to herself as she shivered. And so am I.
Every few steps, she would peek at the baby and let out a breath. Relieved that, by nature’s blessing, the child’s tiny chest still rose and fell.
At what she guessed was mid-morning, as the covered Sun was half-way between where it had been at dawn and where it would be at midday, the tilt of the land changed. Skewing upwards, Avice had to put more effort into every stride.
Are you alright? Bramble asked, his rough voice full of concern.
“I am, it has just been a very long night,” Avice replied. The exhaustion had seeped into her, and every singular step felt like ten. “I am feeling the burn of this walk more than normal. Winter has taken the strength from me.”
Most villagers tried not to leave their homes during Winter, as it was so freezing – and Avice was no exception.
Over the other seasons, her legs were strong and toned from walking the woods and hills.
During this long cold spell, she had definitely softened.
She only left her cottage in the woods, on the outskirts of Lamorna, when strictly necessarily: to gather firewood, to carve ice from the river for melting, and, of course, to attend her patients.
With the upwards tilt of the land, came the thinning of the trees.
The vegetation changed into sparse, twiggy bushes, that were devoid of any foliage.
It struck Avice as odd, that there was no birdsong here.
On past trips at this time of year, sparrows, robins, and tits could typically be seen darting and trilling.
The tiny creatures would be competing for the best nesting spots and showing off to potential mates.
But now?
Nothing.
All was barren and frozen, no life, besides Avice, Bramble, and the tiny baby were present. This observation set an ominous foreboding into the marrow of her bones, making her shiver with more than just the cold.
By the time she set her sights on Knucker Hill – where the well was located – it was nearly midday, and the Sun overhead still fought with the thick clouds. With her final, and perhaps thousandth, check on the breathing of the child, Avice began her ascent.
She trudged up the steep side of the hill.
Tussocks of grass and small rocks made the surface uneven, while rabbit holes peppered the earth, setting even more traps for the unwary traveller.
Avice found herself sweating beneath her many layers, the moisture peppering her upper lip.
Her ample thighs burnt with the effort of the climb, and her breath steamed more heavily into the frigid air.
As she neared the summit, her boots slipped.
Avice! Bramble barked, his jaw snapping to catch her sleeve.
He missed.
Avice deliberately fell heavily onto one side, so the child would not be crushed beneath her.
The midwife threw out a hand, in vain, to catch herself.
She yelped as her wrist painfully jarred.
The sensation ricocheted through her arm to her shoulder in a harsh jolt.
She rolled onto her back; her breath knocked from her body.
“Ow!” she cried.
Are you well? Bramble whimpered, his rough, pink tongue licking her rapidly bruising wrist.
“Yes,” she gasped, filling her lungs with the freezing air.
Her body heat melted the frost beneath her and soaked the back of her cloak. She trembled. Goosebumps prickled all over her body as the cold seeped into her skin. She sat up with a sharp inhale, turning her attention to the bundle in the crook of her arm.
Gritting her teeth at what she might find, she pulled back her cloak and peeled the blanket from the baby.
The infant had made no noise when she had crashed to the ground, and Avice feared the worst. A grin spread across the midwife’s face as she found the baby breathing.
She had even opened her blue, unfocused eyes.
“Nature’s blessing.” Avice blinked back tears of joy as her face met Bramble’s. “I have never met a child so determined to live.”
The Grim stuffed his nose into the bundle and snuffled.
A strong pup to be sure, he agreed. We are nearly at the well.
Bramble turned his snout sky-ward, his nostrils flaring as he scented the strengthening wind.
You must get up; a storm is coming. Now you are injured, soaking wet, and we have yet to walk home.
“Do not scold me,” Avice huffed, pushing herself awkwardly to her feet. “I am well, and we are nearly there.”
Bramble exhaled heavily but said nothing. Pain throbbed from her left wrist up to her shoulder. Avice stifled a whimper, biting it back behind her gritted teeth.
He is right. I have to hurry up. She shivered and fortified herself for the last few trudging steps up the slippery hill.
Then, there it was.
She whooped in elation as she laid her eyes on the well. The sound of humming met her ears, like busy bees around their hive. Avice knew it signalled the presence of old, deep magic. Where the power of the Underneath mingled with the enchantment from the woods.
Relief flooded her as she stepped through the circle of tall, quartz stones that marked the border, showing she was now in the domain of the King of the Well.
She blinked in surprise as she stopped trembling.
The temperature within the stone circle more like early Summer.
She marvelled down at her boots. There was no longer frost beneath them, but springy moss, interspersed with tiny flowers in a rainbow of colours.
She sniffed the air appreciatively. The delicious perfume of fertile earth and blossoms enveloped her.
Avice’s shoulders dropped in relief. It has been too long since I have visited; I have missed it here. She noticed the dandelions around the entrance to the well as she made her way towards it. Those were the ones I gave him this past Autumn. A smile danced on her lips. He kept them.
Avice, Bramble called, a few steps ahead of her on the ancient, flagstone path. Do not forget, the days pass differently here, we should hurry before the storm sets in.
She smiled down at the baby in her arm, ignoring the throbbing ache from her wrist as it dangled loosely by her side.
She took a long step from flagstone to flagstone, the entrance looming large in front of her.
A few steps away, she stopped and studied the structure.
For millennia the well had flowed with life, and now it burbled and bubbled with the hum of its magic.
Its entrance, framed by a stone arch that backed into a mound overgrown with emerald vines, protected the sacred site.
Steep, quartz steps plunged into the earth beneath, forming a deep, dark tunnel for those peering down into its depths.
Bramble sat at her feet and whimpered. His ears twitched and he looked up at Avice with large, pitiful eyes.
“I know he makes you… nervous.” The midwife shifted her sore wrist with a pained grimace and knuckled the top of her Grim’s shaggy head. “But this is a good thing we do today.”
I do this because I love you, Bramble whined, and because it is the right thing to do.
Avice stifled a giggle; she knew her familiar did not like the King of the Well.
He was too big, too intimidating. He moved with such a lethal grace that he would easily be a match for Bramble if they ever fought, which the Grim would do to protect Avice.
Luckily, she and the King had fostered a warm friendship, and he was always kind whenever she visited with offerings and asked for favours.
Please Avice, call the Lord. The sooner we hand over the pup, the sooner we can leave, Bramble practically begged.
She nodded down at the Grim with a reassuring smile, before taking a deep breath. “Lord of the Well! King Trewoofe! I have come to visit you!”
Avice’s voice echoed down into the tunnels. Her heart pounded in her ears as she waited. Bramble, still at her feet, whimpered as his ears twitched.
He’s coming.
“I hear it too.”
Through her soles she felt the distinct hum and vibration of his movements beneath the earth. Avice chewed her lip in anticipation, the dried skin stung as she pulled it away with her teeth. She rocked the baby with her good arm and cooed down at the girl to distract herself.
Avice smelt Trewoofe before she saw him.
His strangely delicious scent penetrated her senses.
The King’s aroma reminded her of rain on thirsty earth mingled with the smell of freshly fallen Autumn leaves.
She lowered her gaze in deference, never laying her eyes upon him until her gave her permission.
He was a King, after all.
“As always, little witch. There is no need to lower your eyes when you meet with me,” he announced with a trickle of amusement in his deep, booming voice. “I look forward to your visits.”
“And, as always, Lord. I still require permission to look on you,” Avice replied, eyes trained to the top of Bramble’s head, who’s snout pointed directly to his paws.
The ground beneath her feet rumbled, a pebble bounced across the flagstone from the deep resonance. Avice stifled a grin; the King was laughing.
“Well then, little witch and her familiar, you have permission to look.”