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I live for quiet mornings.
There's no need to worry about the rest of the day. You can lie in bed, close your eyes and relax… Let things stay peaceful for a little while longer.
Hewie snores at the foot of the bed, stirring in his sleep. I smile gently, running my fingers through his moon white fur. Good boy.
I shuffle out of bed, careful not to wake my companion. As I walk, my nightgown flows across my body like a cascade, the silk soft against my skin. The floor creaks as I head towards the kitchen.
Sunlight shines through the big windows above the sink, bathing the crystals sitting on the windowsill in warmth. Various herbs sit in bottles that line the wall, their faint scents mixing into a peculiar aroma. My cauldron sits in a corner, ready for potion making.
I open the windows, letting in the fresh morning air. A chill washes over the cottage, and I let out a content sigh as I close my eyes and feel it caress my skin.
This is a good life.
It’s a small shock when the bell tingles from the front of the house. Oh, it’s early for a customer…
“One moment, please!”
I hurry to my bedroom, swinging open my wardrobe and swiftly putting on a moss green dress and witch’s hat. Hewie’s ears twitch and he raises his head, alert. He watches me as I rush back to the front door.
Standing in the doorway is a ghostly pale, slender woman. She examines her surroundings with icy eyes, meeting mine. Her lips curl into a small, subtle smile.
A low growl crawls from Hewie’s throat as he creeps into the room, claws tapping against wood, caution in his steps.
“It’s alright, Hewie.”
He huddles beside me, staring at our visitor intently. I greet her with a warm smile.
“Come with me.”
The mysterious woman’s heels click behind me as I show her to the kitchen. When we enter, I pull out one of the chairs from under the table. She sits, her motions almost robotic.
“I’ll make us some tea.”
I take out a pot, placing it under the faucet then turning it on. Turning it off, I place the pot on the stove, lighting the wood inside with a snap of a finger. As the water heats to a boil, I grab a bottle of dried chamomile and open it with a satisfying pop. I pour the flowers into the water, letting it boil for a moment. Its pleasant aroma wafts through the kitchen.
I turn to the woman, who sits still in the chair. She stares at me with an emotionless expression, lavender curls framing her stunning face. She’s beautiful, but this is a little creepy…
My attention returns to the pot. The flame disappears with another snap, and I cover it and let the tea steep. I strain the drink, pouring it into two teacups. Then I take a jar of honey from the cupboard, scooping it up with a spoon and dropping a dollop into each cup, stirring the delicious concoctions.
I take the cups in each hand, careful not to spill the drinks as I cross the kitchen floor, setting them both on the table. Pulling out the chair across from her, I sit.
The words linger on my tongue. She’s gorgeous, but she has an intimidating aura.
“Do you need my help?” Of course she does, Fiona. She wouldn’t be here otherwise.
“Yes.” Her voice is cold, monotone.
I tap a finger on the wood. “What do you need? Health? Money? Protection?”
Hewie comes to my side and lies down, eying the woman.
She’s silent for a long moment, totally still. “I am not complete.”
“Pardon?”
“I cannot have a child.”
Oh, her problem is infertility.
“I can help you.”
Standing, I walk across the room and take a small, pink crystal from the windowsill. I whisper a prayer, kissing the stone; it glows softly in my grasp.
“This is a rose quartz. The crystal of love.”
I place the gem in her hand, and her cold fingers brush against mine.
“It will heal you. Place it near your womb before you sleep. In time, you should be able to conceive.”
Her gaze meets mine, her smile softer than before. Genuine.
This is the first time she’s felt hope in ages.