Chapter Text
Once upon a time, on the edge of a great forest, there lived a woman known only as 'The Witch'.
Abigail, having just turned eight, never really believed in the stories (or so she told her friends when they mocked her for being too afraid to venture near the edge of the wood). Of course anyone in the small village heard the stories, and most adults would bring their children inside once the sun began to set. Even though she claimed not to believe any of the stories, it didn't mean that Abigail hadn't seen the witch from time to time.
The woman was thin in a way that spoke of meager food and she had the willowy limbs of someone who wandered much too often. Her eyes were large, lined by dark lashes and deep purple bags indicating sleepless nights; Abigail thought (secretly of course, because the people of the village would always throw wary and thinly hidden hostile glares toward her), that the witch looked very lonely.
"They say that she's actually married to the monster in the forest." Abigail looked up from the black board she was practicing her writing on, over to the two girls who were whispering rather loudly. They were situated around the small bubbling fountain that was positioned in the middle of the village, and could clearly see the wisp of a woman gliding between booths in the market; she was holding a basket that looked as if it contained fat fish, trying desperately to sell them to anyone who would look her way.
One of the girls snorted and glanced toward the witch, her lip curling in inherited distaste. The witch was speaking lowly with a heavy set man with dark skin, her mouth pulled down in a frown. "Those are just fairy tales meant to scare babies. My mom says she's just crazy." Abigail chanced a glance at the witch, and startled when their gazes locked for a brief second.
The woman's eyes were an eerie electric blue, and seemed to stare deeply into her soul. She felt the back of her neck break out into a sweat, and her heart begin to pound aggressively against her breast bone because the witch really was magic and she was going to see what daddy really did when he says he's out hunting oh god he's going to be so MAD--. The woman looked away, a deep frown tugging down the corner of her mouth as she shambled away from the market, her basket of fish still full.
Days later, Abigail skipped her class, telling her father that she had an upset stomach. Thankfully the hunter believed her, and allowed Abigail to stay by herself in their little cabin. The man left with a quick kiss to the top of her head, and told her not to get into any trouble.
Abigail waited until the sound of her father's horse's hoovebeats were gone and immediately hopped out of bed. She dragged the little pack of food and water from under her bed, the pack heavy on her shoulders as she ventured out.
Many people didn't go into the woods for fear of the beasts wandering through the trees. The worst monster, or at least according to the stories, was the king of the forest.
The monster was said to be as tall as the trees with antlers as large as any great buck her father brought home. His skin was dark as pitch, and worst of all was that he feasted on the flesh of those who wandered unknowingly into his domain.
Abigail swallowed thickly and quickened her pace. The image of the witch's too knowing gaze burned in the girl's mind, and by the time she was on the very edge of the wood, the forest king's domain and (if the stories and rumors were to be believed) the witch's domain as well, her heart was pounding with fear and worry.
Abigail studied the line of trees, noting the many colors of autumn and the scent of decaying leaves. The forest didn't look as scary as it did at night, Abigail thought; her mind was going hazy at the corners, and she found that the forest looked greatly inviting. Her foot strayed off the well worn dirt path, heading in the direction of the woods. A loose lipped smile worked over the girl's mouth and a little giggle tumbled from her lips.
The loud howling of dogs cut through the hazy thoughts like a knife, and when Abigail blinked, the forest seemed to be reaching towards her with spindly, greedy fingers.
A pack of seven dogs, all varying in size and shape, suddenly began to circle the girl. One of them moved in front of her and the forest, showing its teeth as she backed away with a cry. A sharp whistle sounded out from behind her, and all the dogs stood a attention; their tails wagged lazily, but they all eyed her with gazes far too wary to belong to animals.
"What are you doing here?" Abigail flinched at the harsh voice, and felt her heart begin to thud loudly in her chest. The girl turned and briefly met the witch's eyes before the woman's gaze flitted somewhere else.
The witch snapped her fingers and all the dogs moved away from Abigail to stand beside their master. Abigail fully turned and breathed out a quiet thank you. The woman sneered slightly and crossed her thin arms over her chest. "Don't thank me, thank the dogs. Without them catching your scent, you would've been lost to the wood."
Abigail lowered her gaze to the pack of dogs that sat at the witch's feet. They stared at her with intelligent eyes, their tounges lolling out of their mouths. She looked back up at the witch who was studying her intently; the woman's mouth was pursed in a thin line, but when she saw that Abigail had caught her staring, a strained smile tilted the corners of her mouth crookedly. "You're...the Hobbs girl, aren't you?"
Confusion caused Abigail to only nod in agreement, and the witch hummed quietly to herself. "I see." She turned and clicked her tongue in a command for the dogs to follow. "You didn't come all this way out for nothing. Come on." Abigail strayed for a moment, only realizing that the woman was talking to her when one of the dogs (the one that had bared its teeth at her) nudged her hand with its nose.
"Wait," the girl breathed as she hopped into step with the witch, "How did you know who I am?"
The woman was quiet, and stared ahead. Abigail wondered if she even heard her, and was annoyed that the woman would ignore her question if she did. "Why did you come here?" The witch asked instead, her tone flat.
Abigail swallowed and tried not to remember the woman's intense stare, one that stripped away her flesh and as able to see directly into her soul. (We must honor every part of them, Abigail.)
They came upon a small cottage that was positioned directly across from the forest's edge, directly on the great river that cut through the wood like a knife. The pack of dogs yipped and barked playfully as they bounded up to the cottage, and Abigail once again met the eerie blue eyes of the witch. "I-I," Abigail tore her gaze away and blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Are you really married to the forest King?"
The question was met with a stunned silence before Abigail heard the woman release a long breath that ended in a soft snort of amusement. "...I wasn't expecting that." The witch said quietly. The woman moved away from the girl, her feet crunching over the pebbles that made up the river shore. "Come inside, it's a long story."
Abigail followed the witch inside and was impressed by the amount of things shoved into the small cottage. Impressive heads of deer and even elk graced the walls, their massive antlers painted black and twined with strings of beads and brightly colored glass bottles. A number of paintings were hung on the walls next to the trophies, depicting men and woman dancing through meadows, looking wild and uncaring or even myths of long forgotten gods who devoured their children, mouths stained a deep crimson red and eyes crazed. Heavy fishing nets were strewn over the rafters, looking well used and cared for; a fire was in the dark stone hearth, warming the small space and allowing Abigail to relax.
The witch set down a plate of cookies that were slightly burnt around the edges, and a pot of something that smelt like tea. Abigail sat down at the little round table that was piled high with papers, books, and a few stray herbs. She eyed the cookies warily, and when the witch sat across from her, the girl received another crooked smile. "Don't worry, I didn't put anyone you know in there."
Abigail frowned and picked up a cookie, a pleased sounding noise coming from her mouth when she bit down and found it was actually good. The girl swallowed and looked up at the witch; the woman was staring it the window, eyes tracing the lines of the trees with a frown tilting down a corner of her dusty rose colored mouth. "Are you married to him?" Abigail's voice was small, and thigh this wasn't the true reason for her making the track to the witch's house, her curiousity was peaked.
The witch's mouth twitched. "It's a long story."
"Then start at the beginning."
At this, the woman laughed. It held no real amusement to it, and was filled with a hollow sort of bitterness. Her eyes closed, and she sighed softly. "Alright..."
"Once upon a time, on the edge of a great and terrible wood, there lived a poor fisherman and his daughter..."