Chapter Text
The hunters in her village would hunt deer during the winter.
In the summer, after spring when soil was healthy and plants grew quicker than they could make baskets. Diets revolved around sweet berries, leafy greens, spry mirror rabbits and foxhen’s grown fat after months being fed grain.
But during the winter, when energy was spent keeping warm and keeping the frostbitten plants alive for the following spring, food was scarce so far from the sea and so close to a forest where animals evaded the people easily in the dark waste. So, they hunted the twilight deer. Animals big enough and strong enough to be filling and useful to everyone in the village. Their black furs were impossible to see in the dark, but during the day when the sun reflected off of the snow, they were the easiest prey to find.
Coco could remember her first real winter like it was yesterday. The winter where food was scarce and the snow piled up so high you couldn’t open the door.
Her mother, fondly loved by their village, made coats and cloaks for the hunters in exchange for the first pickings of their game.
Coco couldn’t remember what her small hands toiled with, what the noise and hubbub of the village was about, even the faces of the myriad of people that came to the shop wishing for something warm to wear.
No, she couldn’t remember that. But she did remember the deer.
Beautiful, large, with midnight fur. It was bound near their porch.
Its eyes were wide open, mouth agape and beautiful fur smeared with blood that soaked the pristine white snow. Its face was set in a perpetual fear, a wrinkle between its eyes and the arrow shot through the heart, its hooves tied together with thin and cutting wire.
Her mom had wrinkled her nose at it, and said words illegible to Coco’s small ears. The hunter had hummed, held his arms out, and her mother stacked deer hide cloaks and coats into his arms. Taking the carcass with him, only to come back in the evening with a dizzlebee wax paper parcel full of meat.
Then at dinner, Coco’s mind had raced with thoughts.
She knew what hunting was. The act of racing hearts and aimed arrows all for the sake of killing to provide. At school, her teacher's husband would ramble and rave over his latest catch. Explaining how they ensnared a mirror rabbit, caught a rogueboar with his bare hands, shot a milkpheasant out of the sky.
She had never thought much of the glory of the hunt. There was no part of her that knew the feeling of a racing heart, the fear of thumping hooves or the noise of missed arrows entering trees. She had always thought the simple act of providing made the gore worth it, but it became apparent that there was a strange joy in the act of shedding animal blood.
Venison soup tasted metallic on her tongue, the taste of the cured meat blending with fresh making a thick mixture of sweet and salty, making the few scraps of vegetables taste like sweetened lumps. The gray-red of the broth, the bobbing chunks of meat, nausea was all she could feel. So, when she vomited into her bowl, it was no surprise to Coco why.
The blood from the midnight deer was all she could think about as she stared at her leg.
Digging into her right ankle was a wire snare, wrapping around and cutting off the circulation of her ankle in a painful dig.
Everytime she moved and every time she tried to remove it, it tightened and tightened, digging farther and farther. Each time allowing less blood to flow to the rest of her body.
She’d been there for thirty clock ticks and Coco could feel the night begin to wrap its talons around her. The dread that bled into her ribs as she began to understand that there was a timer on how long she could stay out in the cold with a wire wrapped around her ankle before she succumbed to the world around her.
It was an old trap, rusted and meant for the mirror rabbits that stopped leaving their dens late into spring, so no one would be coming to check on it in the morning.
She had tried wriggling her ink wand between the wire and her ankle and was left with a splatter of leftover ink that was once on the nib dashed across the paling color of her ankle. She had thought of burning the wire off, but her palm quire had fallen into a pile of snow too far away when she had crashed down.
Coco had even thought about crying out, screaming and wailing, she had even touched the idea of crying for her mother. For her warm arms to protect Coco from the cold, but Coco wasn't sure stone could warm her up anymore.
Iguin had gone back on his promise, he left her here . He was supposed to wait for her, to shepard her to the next town where they could play the part of Professor and Apprentice, but he was nowhere to be found.
A quick trip into town he had said, words to be had with the farmer who let them rest in his barn, a simple mission that would be completed in a moment. But he had left , the old hag at the farm telling her with faux kindness and real annoyance that he had walked into the woods and hadn't returned.
Coco had tried to sleep, maybe he needed to pick up something they left at the stream, or maybe a craving for the winter berries that grew by the underbrush. But as clock marks passed and she became painfully aware he had taken his pouch that held his ink wand and quire, she had a sneaking suspicion he had left her. So, like a diligent apprentice, she followed. Unfortunately, Coco had not mastered the art of sylph shoes.
Now she was here, eyelashes freezing together and the tips of her fingers becoming frozen and raw.
Coco wondered if this is how her mother felt, the pitter patter of sleep threatening around her eyes, a strange sense of warmth too unusual to be normal spreading around her body. Almost unbearably so.
At a point, Coco’s breathing evened, and the want for rest became so intense that she was forced to go limp against the tree the snare was wrapped against.
Coco’s eyes began to flutter and her mouth dried as it became more clear what was happening, the elements were taking her from where she came, and it terrified her that she couldn't fight back.
As her eyes began to close for what she believed to be the last time, at the corner of her eye, light glowed. The light of a lantern, and with it, a figure stood at the clearing where she had fallen.
And as her eyes closed, Coco found peace in the fact she would be found so quickly.
Olruggio was put in charge of the safety of three little girls in the eyes of witch society.
Affectionate Tetia, passionate Riche, and most recently, the very astute Agott. Although he would never say it to someone who was important, he considered himself in charge of caring for his best friend as well.
So, stumbling upon a young witch whose face he did not recognize while strolling through the woods almost made his heart give out.
She was about Tetia’s height, with an olive colored head of hair and dressed in a nightgown that was covered by a healthy amount of cardigans, although not enough to keep the cold out.
He had been on an emergency commission in Kalhn, the insulation glyph had failed for the community shelter and they needed a witch to fix it for a generous five hundred silver pieces, so Olruggio had found himself coming home much later on a different path than he’d normally take.
When he discussed the fact he’d be traversing through the woods to go home, a farm boy had asked him to take the longer route after an apparent witch's apprentice and professor had left their barn during the night and hadn’t come back, and ever the public servant, Olruggio obliged.
He hadn't actually expected to find them, it was very very unusual for a professor with a single ward to be a transient. Most higher ups were strict on keeping apprentices where they could see them until the professors took on more students. So either they were witches living outside of the eye of the witch society, they were traveling from somewhere important, or the professor was more seasoned than he assumed. Possibly with their last apprentice?
All philosophizing went out the window when he saw the girl slumped against the tree, her ankle wrapped around the snare he had set out maybe three winters back, so far ago neither Agott nor Riche had joined the atelier. He hadn’t checked those since he put them out, if he hadn't stumbled upon her on this night, he might have never. Olruggio felt the need to kick himself, in the surrounding area of where three children lived he put up snares that they could easily stumble into? ‘ Watchful Eye, my ass.’ He thought with an unkind level of bitterness.
Still, Olruggio made haste in slipping his utility blade through the wire, cringing at the frozen feeling against his skin.
Giving her a basic one over, he thanked every one of his mentors when he began training as an apprentice his professor drilled into his head every which way on how to attend to illness, as he was absolutely sure another ten minutes into this cold the young witch wouldn't have survived.
Taking off his cloak with slight reluctance, Olruggio wrapped her up within its folds and hoisted the girl up into his arms, akin to how he and Qifrey would carry the triplet of apprentices back to their rooms after a night in the living space. Although in this situation, Olruggio felt it was more than dire to get back to the atelier with haste.
Looking up at the bright full moon, the howls of scale wolves only made his heart pick up and the want to hurry out of the darkness more powerful.
When Olruggio made it to the clearing where Qifrey’s humble atelier stood, he could make out the form of its owner standing in the doorway as he carefully glided with his sylph shoes.
Olruggio’s confidant gave him a look of both aspiration and confusion as he entered his near vision with a bundle of freezing witchlet. “Wha-- I just checked on Tet-” Qifrey trailed, getting a final glimpse of the girl's face as Olruggio carried her into the atelier.
“Not Tetia, it seems.” Olruggio coughed, putting her down onto the couch and stealing a throw blanket from Qifrey’s designated chair to cover her with.
“Snow was falling all day… I wouldn’t let any of the girls go outside even if I wrapped them in fur, who is she?” Qifrey questioned, eyeing the sylph shoes she had on.
Looking at her, she seemed like a witch-- if a witch had a look. Dressed in an underdress Qifrey would assume would be layered with an apprentice uniform, although it did not appear to help her condition, as she still seemed periled by the effects of the cold.
“I have no idea, but according to a farmhand in Kalhn she's an apprentice who lost her professor in the woods.” Olruggio briefed, Qifrey’s face setting into determination in the same way it had when he announced that he was allowed his first apprentice in Tetia.
“Well, we must take her up as a charge until they get back, no?” Olruggio almost groaned, “we can't.” He stated. Qifrey frowned.
“Why can't we? It’s like when we leave the girls with Hiehart and Jujy for a day, I’m sure the Professor just lost sight of her. He’ll round back into town by morning and we’ll reunite them.” Qifrey explained, an air to him almost fooling Olruggio into thinking it was a good idea.
“The rules set out by the Three Wise and the Knights Moralis state that any unattended apprentices should be returned to the Knights instead of their professors if they are found without supervision. Apprentices aren't witches, they make mistakes without watchful eyes, mistakes that are difficult to fix in the eyes of the Unknowing.” Olruggio spoke, a tad pointedly, “Besides, when we leave the girls with Hiehart we’re never too far away. This professor left their apprentices alone in the snow, and she got caught up in a snare.” He explained, pointing to the red ringlet around her ankle.
“I’m sure it was an honest mistake, nothing that's anyone's fault. We warm her up, give her a meal, and send her on her way. All these rules just allow the Knights to use force when it's unnecessary after simple mishaps and lapse of judgment.” Qifrey scolded, Olruggio sighed.
“After she wakes up we’ll take her into the town hospital and give her professor a chance to show face. If he does, we can have a quiet reunification and sweep this under the rug. If he doesn't show, I’ll have to send word to the Knights.” He attempted to compromise, Qifrey beaming back at him.
“Thank you.” Olruggio’s confidant spoke, and the man turned away and scoffed.
“You're thanking me for not doing my job.”
“Maybe I am.”
Olruggio groaned, standing and stretching his creaking back.
“By the braids in Beldaruit’s hair I was not born to carry small children, how do you do that on the daily basis?” Qifrey stifled a laugh, tossing more wood into the fire and taking blankets from storage and piling them onto their guest.
“They train you to do it when you train to be a professor.”
“Really?”
“Yep, you must carry sacks of grain every which way. On sylph shoes, up mountains, in a quarry. Gave me a back of steel.” Qifrey spoke, giving Olruggio a look of jest and mock flexing his arm.
“I could use one of those…” The bearded man cringed, eyes resting on their young guest.
“Go back to bed Qifrey, I’ll take a night away from rest.” Olruggio offered, Qifrey scoffing.
“As if, it’s three clock marks past midnight, even if I wanted to get more rest I'm doubtful I could now.” Qifrey spoke, bringing a dry cotton rag to the girl's face and attempting to remove any moisture before pausing.
“That's strange…”
“What?” Olruggio asked, watching the way Qifrey’s face churned to make sense of something.
“Nothing, she has some facial scarring…” Qifrey trailed, Olruggio gave him a look.
“I wouldn’t have thought someone like you would find scars as strange. Children get into accidents and fall on their faces all the time.”
“No, no not like that. It’s just… cracked. Like her face is cracked.” Qifrey tried, his friend taking a closer look.
Akin to a mirror dashed across the floor, thin white scars crackled along her right eye. Some of it looks as if skin had grown over cracked clay, but some of it looked out of place.
Some of the scarring over the cracked-like skin looked intentional and practiced, faintly more brown than white and covering the area where the cracked skin laid in a circle with smaller symbols in it.
A glyph was etched over the scarring on her face, a glyph that was meant to reverse the effects of another glyph.
The room got colder, and Qifrey’s knuckles turned white as he gripped onto one of the blankets. Forbidden magic, etched onto the face of a child no older than his own apprentices. The idea made his heart pound and the room around him disappear, the crackle of fire to cease and the warmth of Olruggio next to him to vanish from his body.
She couldn't be an apprentice, no witch in any power would've let her keep her mind after being tainted with forbidden magic like the one on her eye.
So who was she, what was she?
Qifrey made multiple attempts to school his expression, moving from fear to disgust to pity to apathy in quick succession. Olruggio eyed him with worry.
“That's … not good. Not good at all.” Qifrey spoke, words carefully decided as he looked down at the girl.
“Under law I have to report this Qifrey.” Olruggio warned, meeting eye(s) with his confidant.
“You can't --” Qifrey pleaded, “Olruggio, she's been engraved with a glyph, onto her eye .” Qifrey stressed, motioning towards his own.
“If the Knights Moralis find out we’re harboring a person with forbidden magic on their skin it's not just us who are affected.” Olruggio hissed, looking up to the stairs as if to remind Qifrey who was just a few planks of wood away.
“They don't have to know! If I could just have words with her…” Qifrey pleaded, Olruggio shook his head.
“It's better to cut our losses, for her and ou- your apprentices. If they find we harbored a witch with forbidden magic on her body that hardass of a leader the Knights have will have our heads before they take away your apprentices.” Olruggio attempted to explain.
It wasn't like he wanted to lick the boot of the Knights, but if push came to shove he knew he had to protect the people he vowed, both to himself and in the eyes of witch society, to protect and watch over. Even if it meant letting one witchlet get swept under the rug.
Qifrey’s face turned to indignation before settling on neutrality, an air came over the two and Olruggio knew any obligation he had to witch society would be thrown out the window if he met Qifrey’s eyes.
“We’re not making any decisions with her condition and in this weather. Even if the Knight’s wished to find themselves in my atelier, a blizzard is set to come around the nearing days, so even if they wished to invade our home they cannot.” Qifrey spoke, directed with a slight tone of anger. “The Sages know I wouldn't let them use my Windowway…” Olruggio sighed, he had heard news of a blizzard that formed up north bringing itself downwards, they’d simply have to do what they could for the girl in their care and hope no one came knocking in a snowy night.
“In the morning I’ll do a sweep of the space between the trees she was found in, I’m sure she must've dropped a bag or something to identify her…” He said, turning his attention towards their new guest. Only to be met with the color of bright honey staring back at him, a look of bubbling emotions in her face.