Maris
I’ve been away from my home for weeks, and now I’ve been back twice in as many days.
I twitch, instinctively turning away from my own thoughts. This might have been my home once, where I grew up, but no longer. My home is with Gray now, and I have come back to the human village for one reason only.
It is not for my belongings, nor the last remnants of what my mother gave me; I’ve given up on that dream.
Instead, I have a more practical purpose. One of the small buildings at the edge of the village is filled with books, not large enough to be considered a library, but still more than Gray has access to on her own. So we’ve come up with a plan.
Under cover of darkness, we will sneak into the building and steal any books we think will be useful, then take them back to the cave so we can study them in more depth.
Gray is carrying several small baskets, all we could find in the cave to shove them in, and I’m doing my best to figure out the right books to grab.
It’s a challenge, working only by the light of a lantern, and even harder because neither Gray nor I are the best of readers.
I never had much occasion to read when I was younger, although of course my mother did teach me.
It was simply that books are expensive, and we never had enough spare money to afford one, not that Mother would have spent the money in such a way even if we had.
Not when we were barely making it as it was.
And Gray, of course, could barely read. She had been taught as a child, when she was still human, but that was years ago. After seven years as a wolf and several more years in this strange half-wolf, half-human state, it’s a wonder she can still read at all.
“This one?” Gray asks, holding up a book. I nod, barely sparing it a look, even if guilt weighs heavily on me for ignoring her.
I’ve gotta focus.
I’m not trying to be unkind; we just don’t have much time, and it’s easier to go through them all later, when we’re safely back at the cave.
If we could take them all, I would, but even in this tiny village there are too many for us to steal.
It would take more than one trip, and we don’t have time for that.
Eventually someone will notice. We have to have everything we need by then, or we won’t get another chance. This is our only shot.
“What’s this?” Gray asks, holding up a pouch she found tucked into one of the shelves, and I squint in the dim light.
I shuffle a step closer to take it from her, prying it open to give it an experimental sniff.
“Ye gods,” I gasp, jerking it away from my face with a cough.
Gray whines softly.
“I’m fine,” I promise, even as my nose is still stinging from that single sniff; it feels like my nose hairs have burnt off.
But I know that smell. “This is spark powder. It smells awful, but if you toss it into a fire, it will spark and flare with colors. My mother used to use it in the cottage on winter nights, an entertainment no one else could see.”
I swallow hard, tugging the strings to close the pouch again.
Spark powder was one of my mother’s only splurges in a life of scraping by; she used the powder to help give her clothes a more vibrant hue, and we’d discovered its colorful effect on flames almost entirely by accident.
I haven’t seen this stuff in years, nor do I have a single clue why it would be here, tucked away with the books in this tiny little building.
I tilt the pouch again, then shove it into the pocket of my skirt, tucking it against my thigh. Is it really stealing if it’s been shoved in here and forgotten?
Even if it is, I can’t make myself care all that much.
We work in tense silence for another few minutes, stuffing books into Gray's baskets with little regard for organization. Every creak of the old building makes us both freeze, ears straining for footsteps that might mean discovery.
"I think that's enough," I whisper finally, eyeing the bulging baskets. We've taken maybe a dozen books - hopefully enough to find something useful, but not so many that their absence will be immediately obvious.
Gray nods, shouldering the baskets with practiced ease. Even in her partially transformed state, she's far stronger than any human woman, and the weight that would stagger me barely seems to register.
We slip out the same way we came in, through a window I'd pried open earlier while Gray kept watch. The night air feels sharp against my skin after the stuffy interior of the building, and I take a moment to orient myself in the darkness.
That's when we hear the voices.
Gray and I both freeze at the same instant, pressing ourselves against the side of the building. The voices are coming from the village square, perhaps fifty yards away, but in the still night air they carry clearly.
"...can't keep ignoring this problem," someone is saying. I recognize the voice—Elder Morrison, one of the village council members. "The attacks are getting worse."
"Three farms hit this week alone," another voice agrees. Elder Hendricks, I think. "Livestock killed, crops trampled. And that's just what we know about."
My stomach clenches. They're not talking about Gray—she hasn't been anywhere near the farms. But clearly something has been, and of course the village assumes it's connected to her.
"The forest has to be cleansed," Morrison continues, his voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty. "Burned out, root and branch. It's the only way to be sure we get all the monsters."
All the monsters.
My blood turns to ice in my veins.
Gray makes a soft, wounded sound beside me, barely audible even to my ears. I reach out blindly and find her hand, squeezing hard.
"When?" Hendricks asks.
"Tomorrow night," Morrison replies. "We'll start with the eastern edge, where most of the attacks have been centered, then work our way through systematically. By week's end, the whole cursed place will be ash."
I have to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. Our cave is on the eastern edge of the forest.
Our home.
Everything we've built together.
And the only place I’ve ever felt safe…until now.
"What about the witch?" a third voice pipes up, younger, nervous. "She's still out there somewhere."
"If she's in the forest when we burn it, then the problem solves itself," Morrison says coldly. "And if she's not, well. A witch without her familiar spirits is just a woman. Much easier to deal with."
The casual way he talks about my death makes rage flare hot and bright in my chest. But it's the sound Gray makes—a broken whimper like a wounded animal—that decides for me.
I press the baskets of books into her hands and whisper urgently in her ear. "Take these. Get back to the cave. Start reading. Find something, anything that might help."
"Maris, no," she breathes, understanding immediately what I'm planning. "Come with me."
"I can't." I pull the pouch of spark powder from my pocket, weighing it in my palm. "They're going to burn our home, Gray. Burn the whole forest. I can't just let that happen."
"Then we'll find somewhere else—"
"Where?" I demand, my voice barely a whisper but fierce with desperation. "Where can we go that they won't follow? How long before every village for a hundred miles knows about the monster and her witch? How long before there's nowhere left to run?"
Gray's eyes are wide and frightened in the moonlight, but I can see her understanding. We've reached the end of running.
The end of hiding.
"Go," I tell her again, more gently this time. "Trust me. I'll meet you back at the cave."
She hesitates for one more heartbeat, then melts away into the shadows with inhuman grace. I wait until I can no longer sense her presence before making my own move.
The village square is lit by a handful of torches stuck into the ground, casting dancing shadows across the faces of the men gathered there. I count seven of them, all elders, all respected members of the community. All planning to destroy everything I hold dear.
I grab one of the torches from its holder as I stride into the circle of light, spark powder clutched tight in my other hand.
"Gentlemen," I say pleasantly, and have the satisfaction of watching them all jump like startled rabbits. "What a lovely evening for a meeting."
Morrison recovers first, his hand dropping to the knife at his belt. "Maris. We wondered when you'd show yourself again."
"Did you?" I tilt my head, studying their faces with the same detached interest I might show a particularly interesting insect. "How thoughtful. Though I have to say, I'm a bit concerned about your plans for tomorrow night."
Hendricks steps forward, trying to look brave. "You should be. We're done tolerating your presence here, witch. You and whatever foul creature you've allied yourself with."
"Foul creature?" I laugh, and there's something sharp and brittle in the sound. "That foul creature has shown me more kindness than any of you ever did. More loyalty, more love, more basic human decency."
"It's not human," Morrison snarls. "And neither are you, anymore. Whatever you were before, you've given yourself over to darkness."
I consider this for a moment, rolling the pouch of spark powder between my fingers. "You know what? You might be right. I might not be human anymore. Because a human woman would probably try to reason with you. A human woman might appeal to your better nature, beg you to reconsider."
I hold up the spark powder, making sure they can all see it clearly.
"But I'm not feeling particularly reasonable tonight," I continue, my voice dropping to something soft and dangerous.
"So here's what's going to happen instead.
You're going to abandon this ridiculous plan to burn the forest. You're going to leave me and mine alone.
And in return, I won't visit upon this village the kind of curse that would make your children's children weep. "
For a moment, uncertainty flickers across their faces. Then Morrison straightens, and I see the moment he decides to call my bluff.
"You're just a woman with some herb knowledge and a talent for parlor tricks," he says dismissively. "You can't curse anyone."
I smile, and it's not a nice expression.
"Can't I?"
I tear open the pouch and fling the spark powder into the torch flame. The effect is immediate and spectacular - the fire explodes into a column of brilliant green and silver sparks that shoot fifteen feet into the air, casting eerie shadows across the square.
The men cry out and stumble backward, shielding their eyes from the sudden flare of light.
"That," I announce over the crackle and hiss of the burning powder, "was just a demonstration."
Before anyone can recover, I hurl the torch itself onto the thatched roof of the nearest building - the same one Gray and I just robbed, as it happens.
The dry thatch catches immediately, flames racing across the roof with hungry eagerness.
"There's your curse," I call out as the men rush about in panic, some trying to organize a bucket brigade, others just running in circles. "Watch it all burn, gentlemen. And remember, this is what happens when you threaten what's mine."
I don't wait to see if they'll manage to save the building. I don't particularly care if they do or don't, honestly. The fire will serve its purpose either way; chaos, distraction, and a very clear message about what I'm capable of when pushed.
As I slip away into the darkness, following Gray's path back toward the forest, I realize I'm not even sorry. These people would burn my home, kill my love, destroy everything that matters to me, all in the name of their own fear and ignorance.
If their precious village suffers for it, well, they brought that on themselves.
I have more important things to worry about now. Like getting home to Gray, and finding a way to break a curse. Hopefully, before the world decides to break us instead.
But this chapter of my life is behind me now.