Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Caleb had decided that this night was going to become the night where his story ended.

The dry leaves crunched under Caleb’s feet. His slow walk of gloom between the trees and shrubbery made autumn feel even drearier than it otherwise would be. As though his grievances snuffed the trickling lights through the spindly branches.

The rope in his hand was neatly looped, the tail end swinging by his side.

He sighed, deeply, and looked ahead into the darkness. Then turned to look at his home in the far distance. The last sunlight of the day was coating the roof yellow. The chimney had a small tail of smoke lingering from it, the fire inside was dead. But the ashes still snaked a trail of smoke through and out into the air.

Philip was writing in his room, probably, and most likely thought Caleb was either working late or was having a stay at the pub. Either way, his brother wouldn't notice him amiss just yet.

Caleb smiled fondly at their home. Thinking of his brother, imagining him continuing living there without him. Perhaps with a wife and children someday.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

Smiling, nodding, he turned and continued onwards into the depths of Gravesfield’s woods.

As he wandered on, he reflected on his life. You were supposed to see your life flash before your eyes before you died, and Caleb wasn’t sure if this was it or if it would happen as he dangled and choked.

Caleb stopped by a tree, the branches above him were stark shadows against the skylights, the cold autumn winds blew off the tree's last leaf.

The sky was pink and golden, painting the leaves on the forest floor in vibrant orange. He stood with his head hanging and his hand stroking the bark like the comfort of an old friend. His dirty boots crinkled the dry leaves ontop of the wet ones beneath.

He squeezed the rope in his hands.

The guilt wet his eyes welled up into tears that wouldn’t fall. His chest loaded with grievances.

It comes to a point when you got to choose what kills you: Let the flames of your moral crimes catch up to you and burn you alive, or jump out and into the depths of a grave you dug yourself.

Either way, you die.

Everything had just escalated. Lies were like weeds, once it was there it didn’t matter how much you pulled it out, you’d have to pull it next year again and again, forever.

You can’t run away. The amount of lies are the depth of a grave you dig and lay in.

Caleb climbed the tree. Determination for his damnation as he pulled himself up.

He sat on a branch, a beautiful view over Gravesfield.

This place had been a good home, all the misery aside. He had plentiful of friends that would take care of Philip if his brother ever needed help or a good word. Heck, if Philip lost his apprenticeship, he was certain his own boss would give Pip a job as a woodsman too.

His death would bring Philip pity, for sure, and plenty of support. The community of the church would definitely be there for Philip. Caleb had built their lives up here, all for the sake of giving Philip a future.

It was all for the future. But not his own. He was just a means to an end, a tool that used itself to forge a path ahead.

He hadn’t actually had that much time to sit down and think of himself. It just made him sad, anyway. He had to work, so Philip could go to school. Caleb had to go to the courthouse, apply for poverty aid so Philip could have an apprenticeship until he turned sixteen. Caleb had to do plenty of unfavourable things to get the two of them by, most he wasn't proud of, being a thief or gambling wasn't the best resume to get into heaven, certainly.

Being a liar, to get social favours, wasn't a grand personality trait either. Especially if you lied in court. Young and stupid, but now it had shaped and tainted his soul.

Caleb hadn't been a good person. His past made it impossible for heavens graces now. He tried not to be afraid of hell, but he was. He was terrified.

Either way, the guilt was too much. There was nobody to talk to without ruining everything he had built up for Philip and him. And it ate away at him, how much he wanted in life - you’re not supposed to want things. You’re supposed to strive for absolute purity. And Caleb wasn’t pure. Not in mind or heart.

He had anger so deep and red it scared him sometimes. He had needs that shamed him to his core as soon as their whispers stroked his thoughts. The world was better without him now. Caleb felt like the good things he had to offer had run it’s course and all that was left now was broken pieces and bad influence.

The world didn’t need that.

So it was okay.

He hoped.

Yeah, it was okay to leave.

He fastened the rope around the branch, securing it with a sailors knot, and looped it around his neck.

Caleb put his hands together to pray for himself, his sins, the poor people he had participated in killing. It was only a matter of time before someone figured out his “deductions” were based on gossip, rumours and sprinkled with a lot of flavour. Lies, that is. 

Caleb’s heart beat fast.

He prepared himself for the drop that was to end him. “Okay..” He whispered to himself, trying to gather the courage to end it. “Okay.. Okay..” beneath him he could see the red leaves turn into licking flames, welcoming him to hell.

”Okay, okay.”

He heard the crackling of fire, the warmth of the devil’s embrace beckoning him to do it.

”Okay.”

Caleb had decided his story was going to end here and now.

But this is not how the story ends. This is how it begins.

“What ya doin’ up there?”

Caleb nearly fell off the branch and clambered himself to the tree, looking down at the girl in the bonnet - the bonnet really did not suit her at all. Her big fluffy red hair exploded behind her. She was smiling up at him and he was blinking back down at her.

“Uh–” Caleb became painfully aware of the rope around him and hugged himself to hide it. “Uhh– Birds!”

“What?”

“I am.. Looking at.. Birds!”

“Birds?”  She chuckled, not believing him but smirked anyway.

“Y-Yes! Yes. Birds. I love birds! Can’t.. Cannot get enough’o’em! I’ve been seeing some doves, even an eagle!” He started lying and couldn’t stop. “I love seeing them fly high and far away! I thought if I climbed up here I might spot a barn owl but–”

The girl was no longer on the ground. He looked around, and saw her nowhere down there. Like teleportation, she was perching herself right next to him on the branch, looking down at the ground with him.

“Well–” She started and he shrieked in surprise. She laughed at having startled him.

“How– How did you– Where–”

“I’m a good climber.” She fluttered her lashes innocently. Caleb could only stare in a mix of surprise and horror. “And.. If you wanted to see owls, I could take you to some! I know a place where all birds in the forest gather!”

“R-Really..?” He said dumbly.

“Yeah!” She nudged him. “Why don’t you take that off and come with me, eh?”

Caleb looked down at the rope, embarrassment rose from his chest to his cheeks and tainted his ears red. He quickly removed it and turned to her but she was already down beneath the tree. Once again, he marvelled at her with caution, like she was a trickster fox in human disguise.

“Who–”

“Are you coming?”

“I– Yes… Just a moment.” And he climbed down.

She was already in the bushes, wavng him along. ”Come, lets get far away from that tree, yeah?”

Caleb paused, but decided to awkwardly follow the enthusiastic girl into the woods.

Caleb walked with his arms crossed and in silence, next to her but not quite too close. She glanced up at him, but he avoided returning the look. She sadly pouted. Behind her back she circled her finger and an illusion of a beautiful giant bird showed up.

“Oh look!” She said and pointed at a peacock. Caleb’s eyes widened in utter shock. “A bird!” She grinned and it fell at his expression.

He grabbed her and threw them both behind a bush.

“What is that?!” He hissed, peeking through the leaves at the humongous peacock.

“A.. peacock..?” Evelyn said, now unsure. “Unless it’s not? It has wings and a beak–”

“Peacoocks are not that big!” Caleb hissed.

“They.. Aren’t? I saw it in a book once.”

Caleb turned to her like she wasn’t human. The girl nervously smiled.

“Was it a FAIRYTALE book perhaps?!” He hissed loudly and flailed an arm. “That’s too exotic for this land! I think?! I’ve never seen one and I’m out here all the time! Besides, birds aren’t that big anywhere as far as I know!”

The girl twirled her finger discreetly and quickly made the illusion go away and when Caleb peeked over the bush to look for it, it was gone.

“Where did–”

“Maybe your rustling scared it?”

“... But you saw it too, right? I’m not crazy.”

“I saw it! Mhm! Not crazy!”

“Right. Good. Okay. Good.” He eyed her up and down, squinted and carefully pushed at her shoulder.

“What?”

“Are you.. Real? Am I… Dead?”

She laughed. “You’re not dead! I mean, you could’ve been!” And slapped him on the arm. “Stupid! Don’t do things like that.”

And Caleb quickly returned deep inside his shell. She dropped her boisterous attitude.

“Sorry.” She apologised and Caleb shrugged to avoid the conversation. “...Maybe the bird went to the gathering of birds I told you about.”

Caleb glanced at her curiously and more than willing to change subject quickly. “Yeah..?”

“Yeah. if you still want to see it.”

Caleb nodded shyly.

On their walk, the girl made more birds appear. There were birds from all over the world, parrots, sparrows, penguins (which he had never seen before), even chickens and geese. They all tweeted beautifully, like they all knew the same song.

Caleb’s eyes were up at the trees where he spied the wonderful display of flying feathers. Wings flapped and caught the last bits of sunshine.

The sun lowered itself down over Gravesfield and their long shadows blended with the trees.

The redheaded girl watched Caleb’s expression soften at all the strange, as well as usual, birds she conjured.

“Ssshh..” She hushed him and crouched by a bush. Caleb followed her lead and peered into the grove. There, all the birds had gathered.

Caleb had never seen something so magical before, his jaw dropped with wonder and the girl had expected another cry or yelp.. And instead she saw his eyes sparkle and his lips turn warm with adventure and joy.

Her heart flickered happily.

“What is this?” He whispered faintly.

“Uh..” She looked unsure. “It’s.. A bird coven! I think?” 

“Bird coven–” Caleb blinked. “Like a.. Familiar gathering, or something?” He turned to her with an expression of suspicion and alarm.

“Uh.. Sure!” She grimaced.

Caleb sat back as the birds flew in a circle, tweeting and singing together beautifully. The huge peacock sat there like a king of the party, a parade of colours and feathers. The birds sang, they merrily hopped around, fluttering in dances Caleb had never seen birds do before.

From somewhere there were drums and violins, flutes and little lanterns swung from some beaks.

“is this.. witchcraft?”

when he saw her caught-red-handed expression he furrowed his brows at her and she shrank where she sat squatted.

“Who are you? How do you know about this–” He gestured to the now empty grove. The flute-like tweeting music stopped.

The silence filled the forest.

There were no birds.

Just the two of them.

The lady next to him stood up, he looked up at her and the golden sun in her back.

“I’m Evelyn Clawthorne.” She said and held her hand out. From her pocket came a big spider that threw itself out and Evelyn caught him like a staff. “And I’m a witch. Nice to meet you, human!”

Caleb stared up at her sweet happy smile with wide eyes and open mouth.

And fainted.

Caleb sat up like he rose from the dead. Stiff and pale and in a strangely comfortable pile of sticks- a nest. His blanket was soft. There was a scent inside it, he lifted the cloth to his nose and smelled the lavender.

“I wouldn’t inhale that too much. You’ll get sleepy.”

Caleb looked over at Evelyn by her desk, writing in a journal. Caleb quickly plastered himself to the wall.

He found himself inside a cave of sorts, an inhabited cave, with furniture and various home-y decorations. Like the kinds of inhabitation a scholar would have when traveling in a foreign land and residing in a large tent.

“It’s lavender sheets, helps you sleep better! Lavender only grows in the human realm, so I like to harvest it and bring it home. My mom sews them into the stuffing when she makes quilts.”

Caleb dropped the blanket like it was a nestle. She scoffed at him.

“You don’t have to be scared, Caleb. I won’t eat you or anything.”

“How.. Do you know my name?”

“Oh please, Caleb Wittebane? You live in the cuuurseed hoouusee~!” She snorted through a giggle. “Of course I’ve heard of you. You’re the one who chopped down my tree.”

“Your... Tree?”

“Yes! My tree! I did an experiment where I planted a palistrom tree here, to see what would happen! And it was going merry well until you cut it down!”

Caleb blinked, sank down against the wall, back into the nest. Confused, he squinted his eyes at her and raised a finger to point. “But… If you know who I am, then why did you…?”

“Did I what?”

He looked down shamefully. She sighed.

“I’m not gonna let you die just because you chopped down my tree.”

“No, I’m– Don’t you know I am a witch hunter?”

She pursed her lips and tilted her head at him like a confused cat. ”Yeah I’m a little confused about that if I’m honest. I’ve heard of it, but you humans aren’t ever chasing me, just other humans.”

”Pardon? Wait- Witches are humans- Are you not a human?”

”No? I’m a witch, you’re a human. They’re different things. What’s a witch to you?”

”What? How dont you know what a-- Wait hold on a minute–” He furrowed his brows even deeper and crossed his arms around in the air. “A witch is someone in alliance with the devil. You gain your powers from him, in exchange of giving him your soul, and you do his bidding by tempting us other humans to sin.”

”That’s not a witch at all. It’s just people like me! We arent humans.”

”But.. You can do.. Magic?”

”Yes.”

She twirled a finger and a bird flew out and turned to glitter in the air, Caleb ducked away from it.

”That’s called an illusion. I made a few earlier for you, in the woods. Illusions are pretty harmless, they can’t hurt you.” She shrugged. ”Humans can’t do magic, only witches can. But that’s why I find you facinating. I’m researching how you get by without it.”

Caleb stared at her like he was on the verge of losing his sanity.

Evelyn chuckled nervously and stroked her hands. “What..?”

”Wait.. So.. NONE of the witches we ave executed have actually been witches?”

”Nnno, not to my knowledge, no.”

“We’re trying to hang you witches! Not innocent people!”

And it dawned on Caleb that it wasn’t just the people he had helped capture, then, but all of them had been innocent. Every. Single. One.

“Well you’re not doing a good job then." She bobbed her head. "They’ve all been humans, I should know! I’m the only witch here right now and I’ve been traveling around for a bit!”

“You.. travelled around?”

“Yeah!”

She pointed at a big map on the wall, it depicted all of Gravesfield. Uptown, downtown, the harbour and all of the woods, the lake, the tulips field and the farming lands. Even where the Mohegans were.

He stood up again, stepping out of the nest to look closer at it. She had pinned various places where witchcraft had taken place. Caleb knew them well, most of them anyway.

It was like she had pinned every place there where an evidence of witchcraft had been found, and then some.

His eyes darted across the picture, the light from the fireplace threw a horrible realizations into each location.

“What in the world is this...?”

“Like I said, I study your realm. I’m writing a book on the subject of human biology and culture!”

He turned to her like he couldn’t quite believe his ears.

She gestured across the map like it was a wonderful beautiful thing.

“I believe we can learn a lot from one another. We are different, and you guys have so many things we don't. Like your lavender! Or your animals, your seashells and your metals.  And your strange inventions. We don’t know a lot about you guys, soooo… I’m researching!”

Evelyn’s golden eyes swept across the drawn landscape.

”Humans have no magic, and yet you.. Find a way through.”

She smiled at him and he just stared like a ghost back at her. She grimaced awkwardly in return, that wasn’t the reaction she had expected.

“Aaanyway, Work in progress!”

She sailed a finger up into the air as she walked around him in a zigzag. His eyes haunted her around the room.

“I’ve been trying to help, but people just get mad. I'm logging everything to keep track of what works with humans and not.. Friendship begins with understanding!”

He slowly returned to the map. “You did all this?”

“More or less.” She nodded, looking at the map with him. ”There,” she pointed. ”Was yesterday. I helped!” And smiled. ”The well was broken so I made sure it was full to the brim. Now there’s water.”

The blonde Englishman slowly turned his gaze at the girl next to him. He couldn’t detect any malice, her so-called-helping had caused an overflow that had flooded a basement and ruined a year’s worth of savings. It hadn’t been thought of as witchcraft, just an unfortunate accident of the soil breaking up after heavy rain. Gravesfield was a wet and muddy town after all. 

Caleb could feel his brain sagging together into mush. He couldn’t even be afraid of her, she was so sweet in nature and perhaps even a little innocent in the way she appeared to just sort of… Have waddled into things.

She was either an unfeeling demon who thought wrecking havoc was fun, or she was just that negligent of how her powers truly frightened and hurt the humans. He opted for the latter. Caleb took one look at her and, well, you can’t blame a fox for being a carnivore.

He tapped an area on the map. “This..? What did you do here?”

”Oh that, there was a couple whose farm wasn’t doing well. And the farmer next to them was boastful about how he was doing better and he wouldn't share even if they were starving! That’s crazy! Sooo..”

She wobbled her head and wiggled her brows.

“I just pulled some plant magic and made their farm better. And I thought, well, that farmer was so rude! So I took the nutrients from his farm to theirs.”

Caleb knew where this was going.

“So! That way, I made their farm better than his. Great right?”

“No… Not great.”

“Why not?”

“I… When we came there, it was so obvious they had used witchcraft to ruin his crops and boost their own.”

Evelyn blinked at him, not understanding.

Caleb put his fingers to his lips and realised she had no clue.

“Miss Clawthorne - it was Clawthorne, right?”

”Yes!” She said. ”But you can just call me Evelyn, Caleb.”

Caleb gaped, he didn’t have time to explain the social rules around that, and continued. ”Evelyn, that’s the sort of thing we are hunting down as witch hunters.”

“...What?” Her voice sounded so small now. ”Wait, you mean to tell me you kill your own because you thought.. They were… Me? And for that little plant magic of all things? But it didn’t hurt anybody!”

“What you are doing is a crime against the natures of what our God intended. It’s not right, it’s evil to manipulate nature like that- It’s unnatural– you’re not supposed to be able to, it’s un-human to do things like that - That is to say, you must be evil.”

”Of course it’s un-human, I’m a witch!”

”Exactly! a witch! We hunt witches. This? Aaaaall of that stuff! Has gotten people in trouble, or had them executed.”

He watched as pieces were put together in her head. Her eyes widened.

“So.. You… The farmers I helped…”

“Witchcraft is heresy. Heresy is punishable by death.”

She went pale. “WHY?!”

“Because it is witchcraft! It’s evil! Devil stuff!”

“What even is this DEVIL thing?! You– You kill people because of– Because of what could be thought of as a prank?! It’s so easily fixed! I could’ve just done it back the way it was! You didn’t have to kill anyone!”

“A prank? That's what THAT was to you?!” Caleb fretted.

“Yes?” She looked at her map, it was dawning on her now; her innocence left her. All those little helpful things had not been very helpful at all. And Evelyn’s heart sank. Her eyes got lost amongst the needles pinning her map.

Caleb tapped another place on the map. “What about here?”

“I just… You people were all looking so miserable and you have literally no colour anywhere. I just thought if your pigs were in the colour of the rainbow it might.. Make you.. happy? Who doesn’t want blue ham?”

Caleb looked like his eyes were going to fall out from stress. “You did that too?”

“Yes?”

“Oh lord..”

“No! Did you kill those farmers too?!"

“NO, not the people! We slaughtered the pigs! And burned them!”

“That’s really, really, wasteful considering you’re all practically starving.” She grimaced. ”I mean, I tried to help because you are all so pitiful and poor.”

“I KNOW!”

“THEN WHY DID YOU?!”

“DEVIL STUFF! You can’t eat DEVIL stuff!”

“That’s SO stupid!” She gestured at him and the rest of human kind. ”Really, really, stupid!”

Caleb was pacing back and forth in her cave. ”No, okay, okay, no. I can do this. Okay… Okay… It’s okay! This is fine! I’m sure I can get through this.”

Evelyn watched Caleb pace himself around in a circle, then down on his knees like his entire worldview had dissolved like paper in a puddle.

“You good there blondie?” Caleb fell over onto his side. “Not yet, got it.”

”This is horrible.” Caleb muttered into the ground. ”Awful, just great. Fantastic. It could not be worse.” And was now  groaning his woes into the dirt.

Evelyn curled her lips in and jutted a thumb to her desk. “Imma.. I'm gonna just.. Write a few things down.”

Caleb nodded as he spaced out.

“Cool.” Evelyn wrung her hands, looked at the miserable puritan on her floor, and was unsure what else she could do. She threw a glance at her map and something inside her shrivelled up. Crestfallen, she sighed and went to her writing desk.

Caleb was thinking and thinking hard. Perhaps God had heard his prayer? Let him live so he could meet Evelyn, take her to his town, to the witchfinder general, tell him she was behind it all.

That might save him from his guilt, right? Maybe God made them meet to give him a chance to do right?

This was the real witch. The real criminal. The real crone of the Devil.

“... You have to turn yourself in to the authorities.”

“Huh?” Evelyn had just seated herself by her books. ”Turn myself where now?”

“You– It’s the only right thing. You did all of those things. You’re the reason people died–”

“Hold on a minute. I did not kill people. You people did.”

She pointed sharply at him, and Caleb felt it like an arrow shot right through his chest.

“I could have fixed it. It was you lot who started getting crazy ideas about what it all meant.”

Caleb curled together. She was right.

He had never dunked anyone under the water to see if they floated, he never put fire to the kindle and burned them. But he was there, he watched too and jeered, he chased and he pointed. In court he had given many false witnesses.

He felt his soul get heavier and heavier with the soot of his victims' charred and rotting corpses.

Caleb stared out into the cave like a hellhound was coming for him soon.

“Are you.. Going to kill me?” He asked.

“Of course not.” She scowled. “I'm not like you humans around here.” She waved her hand at the exit. “You are free to leave if you want, you are not my hostage. I only brought you here because I felt sorry for you, after what you almost did by the tree, and after you fainted. I didn’t want to leave you in the dark woods.”

She plucked up a lantern and conjured a flame into it. Caleb held his breath, despite himself, watched the magic with a twinge of wonder.

She put the lantern into his hands and frowned up at him.

“There. You’re some kind of.. woodsman, or whatever it is called, aren't you? You’ll find your way I’m sure. I’ve seen you lot walk around the woods before.”

Caleb stood there in his large coat and lantern in hand, she huffed and left him standing dumbfounded by the cave entrance.

The entrance had a blue glow to it, and when he put his hand through it, he realised it was a mirage.

He stepped through it. The warmth of the cave gone, behind him was a mountain wall. No entrance. Just moss and the cold stone.

Caleb stood there in the dark, looking out at the vast and silent nothingness. The autumn air was chilly, moist and still.

The glow of the lantern threw light at the world nearest to him, illuminating the pine trees and cedar. The night smelled of wet grass and dirt.

But he did not leave.

Caleb stood there, hauntingly, staring out into the darkness with no hope in his eyes. The next day would never come. His life was as endless as the darkness ahead.

Part of Caleb hoped he would die in the forest on his way home, the other part was terrified of it happening and sinking into hell.

Caleb held the lantern and didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t go home. He couldn’t pretend this night never happened.

Tonight had been a bad night. He hadnt expected to last into the late hours, he was supposed to be dangling from a tree. And now, instead of death holding his hand, he was now holding a lantern in one and truth in the other.

And had no clue what to do.

Caleb sniffed quetly, then stifled the choking sob that pushed out through him. The broken man put his hand to his eyes to hide how he crumbled.

Evelyn heard the sound of the human that was beginning to wilt at her doorstep. She was too nice to kick him out or abandon him.

Her heart broke for him, and she carefully went through her mirage and saw his shoulders shake with quiet, stifled, sobs.

She gently put her hand on his back and he jumped a little. But her hand didn’t leave. And it was warm against his back, soothing and kind.

His wet brown eyes met her gentle golden.

“You can be my hostage, for a little bit, if you’d like?” She offered.

Caleb stroked his sleeves at his eyes, a little embarrassed, but didn’t reject her hand or offer.

“For the night.” Her smile soft and gentle. “I could terrorise you with my magic.” She joked, and let little fireworks spark from her hand and, like she had hoped, Caleb’s eyes poured with more wonder.

He was the first human to have this reaction. Like he loved it. Evelyn’s chest bloomed with excitement.

“Come.” Evelyn invited him back inside, taking his hand like they were old friends already.

Caleb stroked his stained cheeks. Evelyn noticed that he must have been a bit dirty from work, because his tears left strokes on his cheeks. She hadn’t noticed it before because of the night and shadows. 

“Oh, what a mess you are.”

She put him on her chair by the desk, he glanced at all the books there and understood none of what they contained. She returned to his side with a soaked cloth to wash his face.

“I–I can do it myself–”

“Yes, I know, but let me be nice to you. You are my hostage after all.”

Her kind smile and playful eyes melted him. He dropped his hands into his lap. Allowing her to care for him. She held his face when she was done and smiled at how clean it was now.

“There we go, all better.”

His cheeks bloomed like roses. He quickly escaped her hands and put his own on his cheeks to try cool the heat off. She pulled her hands away, worried she had been too invasive, but saw he was just shy and smiled.

“Caleb, look at this.” She offered a distraction, a paper folded itself into the air, into a dragon, and sailed around the room, circling him. He avoided it, but soon enough got courage and tapped it. It dissolved into little bubbles.

“What… What are you, exactly?”

“A witch.” Evelyn repeated.

“No, no you’re… Not, I think.”

“Not the sort you think of, I guess. But that’s what I am.”

Caleb looked uncertain. “No, you're not. I can’t believe I’m saying this but… if you’re honest, and I think you are, then you’re not a human that sold her soul to the devil for power. You’re not even here to tempt us. You’re… something else.”

Evelyn tilted her head, her red hair falling to her side like a river of copper.

”Then, what I’ve done is worse than I thought. They’ve been innocent. Unless there are human witches and they’re different than what you are. But then- You have magic. They didn’t really- I mean- my head hurts. I cant make sense of this.”

He looked down at his fidgeting dirty hands like there was blood on them. His gaunt eyes full of grief again.

“I deserve the same fate as them… I should hang for having lied to get them convicted. I can’t undo it, or set it right. I’m a coward. I wanted to just end it without facing more than that. But perhaps I should… Perhaps I’m theone who should turn myself into the authorities- but if I do that, then Philip, my brother-! I can’t. His reputation would be tainted, and-”

“Geez, none of that is very helpful. How is any of that going to help anyone?”

“Um.. Well, it’s about redemption–”

“By dying? That’s very reductive. If you want to redeem yourself, do better. Be better. Don’t give yourself into the authorities, they won’t listen to you anymore than what you would’ve before you grew wiser about all of this.”

”but… what else is there? Shouldnt I be punished somehow? I deserve it.”

”do you?”

”yes?”

”I dont think so?”

”you.. dont? How should I redeem myself then?”

She tapped him on the nose and swirled around him and his chair. He followed her movements eagerly.

“What you need to do, Caleb Wittebane, is to live.”

“Live? But I have done irreversable damage to others and–”

“You should live, and!” She drummed her fingers in a pitter-patter on his back, before coming around to face him again, “And~! Don’t lose hope that things can change for the better.”

Caleb wasnt sure yet.

“Because if it’s not yet better, it is not yet the end.” She backed up, over to her cauldron where she was cooking something. “We all make mistakes, you know… Intended or not. Big or small. The big ones are more difficult, yes, but nothing is impossible to heal, to mend..”

Caleb heard experience in her voice, conviction snd belief in her eyes.

”At least, that’s what I want to believe in. I could give up, you know? I could lay down and say: this is it Ev. Theres no solution. Just this. But that’s sad.” She looked at her hands. “It won’t help me, not trying anyway.”

and now he believed her. Maybe there was a better option than giving up. Maybe there was hope in trying.

Lost for what to do or say, Caleb came over to her. The warm glow of fire spread across his face and he leaned against the hot stones. She gave him an elbow nudge.

“Don’t be glum.” She told him in jest, to cheer them both up. “You’ll spoil my soup.”

He chuckled. “Forgive me, madam, I will try to shed some moods of joy instead. Perhaps that would taste better?”

“It would.”

Evelyn turned back to her stew and stirred it. Caleb rubbed his neck, trying to think of a conversation but got his racing thoughts interrupted by her sweet voice.

“I don’t think you’re bad, Caleb. A little lost, dumb and desperate.. But you can do so much more being alive than dead. So don’t do that again, okay?”

"Mh.."

She gave him a cup with a handle for his thumb, and a pretty ill-made wooden spoon. He rubbed his fingers against it's dry surface and wondered if she had made it herself, or bought it from someone who had no idea what they were doing. But he wouldn’t complain, and simply used it to stirr the heat out of his portion. Taking a small sip from the yellow soup.

He took a seat on a stool near the fireplace.

"What is it?" He asked, never having tasted this sort of thing before.

"Oh, toads from this realm, and spice from my realm." She grinned excitedly. "Do you like it?"

Caleb glanced down into his cup, the spoon scooping up what he now could identify as a chopped up toad foot.

grimacing through a polite smile, he lowered the cup into his lap. "We... don't eat toads here."

"You don't?" Evelyn hummed thoughtfully. "Truth be told, there are some things here I have seen humans eat, I tried it, but I got really ill from it."

"Like what?"

"Well, cheese from a goat?"

He snorted. "Goat cheese made you, a witch, ill?"

"Is that funny?"

"Goats are said to be in alliance with the devil." He scooped around in his cup, and almost took a bite out of habit. "Like witches. So yes, it is a little funny."

Evelyn smiled, perched herself upright. "Oh! Goats are friends then? Like pets?"

"No, they are, er, well.... livestock."

"I see, huh.." she mused, happy with some new information.

Evelyn took a seat on a stool opposite of him, and Caleb silently watched her eat her toad soup.

“So.. You mentioned you were from another realm? What is your realm like?” He dared to ask.

“Well! What would you like to know?”

“Everything.” His heart glowed with infatuation.

”oh! Goodness, where do I even begin? Oh, haha, hold on, wait, I wasn’t ready!” She laughed and flapped her hands. Evelyn’s merry spring melted his cold winter.

He had never known he had been a winter waiting for spring. She was a whole summer.

Caleb forgot everything that was sad and bitter with the world. Evelyn began to tell him about her realm, how she lived on a big dead Titan, about the different types of magic. Illusions, she explained again, was like the birds in the forest and the doorway to her cave was made with a galderstone tool.

Evelyn told him so many things, he wouldn’t remember it all. She jumped around from topic to topic, clearly not used to infodumping like this. He saw her get flustered halfway through and lose courage, so he asked her a follow up question, and it gave her wind under her wings again.

She chattered away happily, showing little illusions to try demonstrate what things was like.

Caleb’s dark and lonely, cold, world full of fantasies were now full of dreams and warmth, and life.

He drowned in her presence. Evelyn was a witch, but nothing what he’d met as a witch hunter or as a human. And yet, she was proving to quickly be one of the best companies he’d ever experienced.

Caleb thought to himself, as she explained the strange world she came from, that if his life were to one day flash before his eyes sometime in the future - he’d like this moment right here to be one of the fond ones he could linger in.

Right there, with her shadow large against the wall and the warmth painting her happy face, right here in this cave.. Caleb felt found.

But all good things come to an end, when there are voices from the woods.

The two of them stopped their merriment when echoes called for Caleb's name in an echoing distance. Amongst the voices, a younger one.

“Philip…”

“Oh yeah, I heard you had a brother. Right? Short and smart.”

“Yes– Goodness, the time! Oh– I must leave.”

“Alright hold on.” Evelyn put her empty cup down, and whilst her back was turned, Caleb poured his cup back into her cauldron.

She walked him out of the cave, through her mirage. From her hair hopped a Spider that alarmed Caleb. It was the same spider from before he had fainted, and he watched it extend itself into a staff.

That she hopped on. And was now hovering above the ground like it was the most ordinary of things.

"Hop on!"

Caleb Stared. "Um... no."

"I'm a very good flier! Dont worry, nobody will see us either, all they will see is two owls."

Caleb still looked apprehensive but once she lowered it, and put her feet on the ground, he awkwardly got on behind her.

Both with a stick between their legs, Caleb was going to make a joke about brooms, but the staff elevated and he hugged her.

"Oop!" She looked over her shoulder at him. "You alright?"

He had turned a shade redder than her hair and let her waist go, to hold onto her red coat.

"Um- wow-!" His feet were dangling. Caleb laughed. "Oh god we are flying."

"Not yet! Just floating." She moved his arms back around her waist. "Scoot in, hold on tight, and if youre scared of the height just close your eyes."

Caleb didnt protest, he trusted her, and hugged her tightly when they lift past the tree tops.

She flew slowly for him. Far down there in the endless darkness of forest, he saw lanterns throw long lines of light between the trees.

Evelyn's scent got caught in the wind, and it was cinnamon and cardamom. 

The witch smiled to herself, glancing over her shoulder now and then at the human, and felt both chuffed and proud.

She had made contact with a human.

Finally.

The forest and sky was too dark to see anything except the distant lights of Gravesfield. Caleb closed his eyes, feeling safe behind her.

Evelyn flew them to where she had found him and did him the favour of taking the rope with her.

She floated above him, smiling. "There you go." And put the rope around her arm.

“Um, thank you, Evelyn. For... Well, you know.”

“Any time, Caleb. See you around, maybe?”

"Maybe..." He smiled, and waved.

She waved back.

Evelyn lifted up into the night sky and merged with the night above.

Caleb just stood there, watching the stars. Feeling more whole and light than he’d ever felt in his life. Like she was a dream that had spirited him away and back.

The lantern lights stroked his back, the forest floor was full of leafs. He was back tohis life again.

“Wittebane!” Said a man with a lantern. “Good lord! There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere!”

“Oh, sorry." Caleb turned to greet them, feeling foggy. "I… Must have fallen asleep. I just woke up.”

“You.. Slept here? Right here? All this time?”

“I guess so. I can't remember.” He couldn’t even think of a lie, he felt so light.

“Caleb!!” Philip called from between the three men, he threw his arms around his older brother. “Don’t ever disappear like that again! I was terrified something happened to you! You werent at the pub, or with any of your friends! And Karl said you had hone home for the day and--”

Caleb ruffled him to male him stop. “I’m alright. Don’t be such a worryworth Philip.”

Philip pouted. “I had every right to be worried.”

Caleb awkwardly squirmed and eyed one of the men besides his brother, who gave Caleb a look. Caleb didn’t like the implication of what Philip might have told them to make his disappearance so worrying.

"What if a witch got you?" Philip added.

Caleb masked a cringe. He didn't like when Philip ran around conspiring about witches, either. Sure, it was great to be alert and aware, but Philip did little else than talk about witches these days.

Caleb could see in the corner of his eyes how the mention of witches made the other men a little on edge.

He could also feel how they were eyeing him now, with bad ideas planted and growing: had he really just fallen asleep?

"A witch? Really Philip, a witch wouldn’t dare their hands on a witch hunter."

The men relaxed a little.

Philip frowned. "A witch could be bold! Who knows what the devils game is at?"

And the men tensed again.

Caleb held his frustration in with an overtly pleasant tune, and through grithed teeth and the smile, he said: "Pip, I think I of all people would know. Don't you?"

Philip opened his mouth, but shut it when he recognised Caleb’s shut-up-philip look.

"Right.."

Caleb wished for his little brother to make friends, to fit in with the other teens, but no. Philip was unbudging; if they didn't share his niche interest of speculating how to spot a witch on sight - they'd have little chance becoming his friend.

Caleb had never made a friend through conversation about how some witches had a secret third eye somewhere or hairy moles, and had explained as much to his brother. But Philip was determined.

“Just glad you’re okay.” Said one of the men and slapped him on the back, making Caleb walk.

Nobody wanted to stay there and talk about witches.

“Sorry for the troubles.” Caleb walked with the group back to town.

"Not at all Wittebane, you'd have been the first to come to our aid if it had been one of us."

The other two nodded. "Exactly. Besides, Downtown cant afford losing their golden guard."

Caleb chuckled. "Golden Guard? That's new."

The tallest of the men nudged him. "It's what they call you, haven’t you heard your own nickname? you're one of the best witch hunters around here, surely you're aware of that."

Caleb wouldnt call himself the best, but he knew he was up there, next to guys like Robert and Karl.

"Brave enough to chase them when they try to run." the man continued. "I heard about that, you know, incredible. Wasn’t that witch armed, too?"

"He was!" Philip joined. "A shotgun!"

"Pistol." Caleb corrected and wanted to change the subject. "But, really, golden guard is a little much."

"No, it fits." Said the first. "Lads like you don't show up in places like downtown. Brave and honest. A good Christian too. Good role model for the younger boys, y'know, instead of becoming crooks and the likes."

Caleb wished the forest swallowed him up. He was not honest, 'nor sinless, and he'd comitted crimes too - he was just never caught. Hardly a model citizen or christian.

"Haha..." Caleb tried to be merry and feigned bashfulness. "You flatter me. I think someone like Silver might be a bit more upstanding than I."

"Silver is a chummy cove, but he's not from downtown. People here need to see there's good people from this part of town too."

Caleb looked down at Philip, who looked proudly up at him. And caleb thought to himself that that person would be Philip, not him.

"Very kind." Caleb said. "But you know, sir, if your wife is someone to trust the word of, I hear you've made a stellar husband. You ought to teach us bachelors a thing or two."

And when the good sir blushed, the men and Caleb laughed, and made jokes on the line of rhyme to lift the man's confidence up.

Philip smiled up at Caleb, watching him glide with so much ease around people.

And saw how Caleb's smile didn't reach his eyes, how the merry tone was voice alone, without his body's language to fit what he said.

Philip made note.

And the brothers were finally at home. Caleb made some more jokes about having falled asleep, and finally bid them farewell.

And sighed behind the closed door.

And Philip watched Caleb’s shoulders sink. Watched him tiredly pass him in the stairs.

"Bed time Pip."

"I thought you said you slept all this time."

Caleb stopped by the stairs, paused as if considering continuing the conversation. Philip waited with baited breath.

And Caleb continued upstairs.

"It's still late." He said, and the youngest pouted.

Philip lingered around him as they had changed into night gowns. He eyed him by his bedroom door.

“Pip, I’m fine.” said Caleb, climbing into his own bed.

“Are you?” Philip leaned in the doorway. “Because.. You’ve been really glum lately and, I dunno.. I meant it, when I said I was worried. There are witches out there you know, and they're right! Youre one of Gravesfield’s best hunters, what if they target you to scare us? To make us weaker? Strategically it's actually--"

“I’m fine.” Caleb threw up the covers of his bed. “I had a long night, I’m tired. Go to bed Pip.”

“I thought you said you slept this whole time.”

Caleb avoided Philips hard stare. He put on his parental voice.

“Go to bed, Philip.” And blew out his candle. ”Now.”

Philip stood there for a while longer, staring in the dark with his own candle.

“Philip. Bed.”

“What actually happened in the woods, Caleb? You didnt sleep, did you.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. Really.”

Philip nodded. “...Okay. Good night then.”

“Good night. Close the door.”

Philip closed the door and stared at it. Closed his eyes and sighed bitterly. His brother still underestimated him, it seemed.

But he would prove himself! He would prove himself reliable.

Philip went to his bedroom and opened a new book he had gotten his hands on. A book about witches and how to punish them. He opened his journal next to it, it was full of notes about witchcraft and how to find witches.

Call it a hyperfocus if you will, but Philip Wittebane wanted to capture a witch.

if he caught a witch, his brother would for sure start to see him as an equal. Take him seriously, listen to him… And include him.

He was trying to make his own guide about them, a guide for witch hunters. The first step to overcoming an enemy was to understand them. Caleb hadn’t participated in the last witch hunt for some reason, and Philip was hoping this guidebook could help him get his mojo back.

They could publish it one day under both their names! They would be known all over the world as the witch hunter brothers!

He crossed his feet and swung them, happily researching any knowledge that would be useful in their future.

Their future as witch hunter generals.

Chapter Text

The skinned rabbits hung in clusters on a stick, the man selling them sat on a wobbly stool next to them. He had four teeth and the good use he thought he made of them was no use at all.

Caleb wasn’t sure which rabbit to buy was better. The one with a big head or the ones with thick paws. Rabbit meat wasn’t exactly the best meat around, but the English made do with what scraps the forest and sea offered.

“Hmmmm…” Caleb rubbed his chin. “Theee… one with a big head.”

“Aw’ wight!” Whistled the man as he spoke, spitting Caleb in the face all the way from where he sat.

Caleb swiped a finger on his cheek, shuddering at whatever the saliva of the man could contain, and whipped his finger in the air to send the spit flying somewhere else.

“Thass’ the uuusual pwice!”

Caleb was impressed with how the man could still be somewhat understood, really. At this point it might even have done the old man better to lose the last remaining four ivories that filled his mouth. In Caleb’s opnion; They were mostly there for decoration anyway, because they were moreso blocking words than assisted the old git to be understood.

“Well, I was thinking.” Caleb smiled, tilting his head to the side. “If perhaps the usual could be changed to a sliiightly less usual price of–”

“No.” The man snuffed at the cold autumn air, the fashionable dead possum on his head bobbed it’s head as the man leaned back on his stool against the backwall of a building. “The uuusual on’y!”

“Come now!” Caleb put a hand on his hip and swung the other, winking. “You haven’t even heard my offer!”

“No.” The salesman repeated. “I know yo’ fwicks. I’we pwayed cawds wiff you!”

Caleb squinted his eyes, pained, trying to keep merry. “That’s your loss then!” He pulled out three small wodden figurines from his bag. “These could’ve been yours!”

“Whaff am I to do wiff those?”

“You could sell them! For far more than one little rabbit could get you, which.. Let us be honest Manfred, is looking rather meager.”

If it was true, Caleb would've sold them himself.

Manfred licked his bottom row of two tooths and pinched his lips together. “No.”

“Oh come on, I have a little brother. He’s still growing, you’ve seen Philip! He’s so scrawny… If we want the future of our town to bloom we should make sure the educated youths are well-fed and energetic, eh? He could be a doctor someday!” He leaned in. “Maybe even a dentist, mh?”

Manfred tought about it. Looked at the three figurines of woodland animals in Caleb’s hands.

“Eeeh? Come oooon. Manfreeeed, old boooy. Please? For me?” Caleb blinked his eyes and pouted like an angel.

Manfred rolled his eyes and spat as he groaned. and Caleb knew he'd won the old fellow over.

“Fwine.”

“Yes!” Caleb handed the figurines over and Manfred gave him the rabbit.

“But on’y fo’ this twime!”

“Of course! Thank you! Really! I won’t forget this!”

Manfred shook his head and thought about the previous times Caleb had managed to get something in the exchange for something else.

This was not the first, and most likely not the last either. But the old man felt sorry for the young bloke, he was just trying to make sure there was food on the table. It was admirable to the old man, whom had watched Caleb grow up in town and run hither and dither to scrap together enough of anything for his brother.

"Be well Manfred, sir!" Caleb shouted, spinning around himself as he ran off. Manfred shook his head and smiled.

Caleb made a quick haste away from Manfred’s corner of the market all the way to the harbour, which was not far from Gravesfield’s cove. Where Louisa and her daughters were at the fish stand.

“Heeeyyy, Mrs.Fishermaaaan~!”

“No Wittebane.” Louisa sighed, not even turning around to greet him.

“What! You don’t even know what I’m here to say! At least greet me!”

Louisa turned around with a pair of mom-eyes that were too tired to put up with whatever he was about to say or do. “Hi. Good morning.”

“And a very, very, pleasant morning to you too!” He grinned with all the charm a young man could have to win a woman’s sympathy.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing! I have nothing I want, I have something you want.”

“If it’s not my husband’s hat full of gold, I don’t want it.”

“Ah, but you are mistaken!” Caleb held up the rabbit. “Aaah?” Presenting it like it was a jackpot. “Rabbit! A nice change, isn’t it? You could make a paste, a good broth! And the bones are not as brittle as fish. You could make hooks and needles out of them. Maybe even buttons from the flat bits?"

Louisa leaned against her table, the row of meaty fish still fresh.

The skinny rabbit with the thick head in his hand did not impress her. She looked back up to his pleading face.

“Please? I need this. Don’t make me beg infront of the pretty girls.” Caleb said quietly so her daughters wouldn’t hear it.

Louisa crooked a brow at him. “Pretty, are they?”

“Thankfully, they do take on from their mother.”

He knew it was a typical thing to say. But it was because they both knew he was jesting, that she folded - it made her roll her eyes and smile. So he knew he had won her favour.

He had the kind of charm that made inexperienced and naive women mistake him for a prince charming in pauper’s clothes.

Downtown Gravesfield’s golden guard had a reputation of being a friend of everyone. A friend, that is, that you shouldn't actually have in your social width if you cared at all about appearances and the right people; but despite yourself, for some reason, somehow, had made a spot for him anyway. One day Caleb Wittebane spoke to you and you were left with feeling like there was at least someone in this rotten town who'd come to your aid if you were sinking in this mudslide of a settlement.

Like when Caleb had escorted Louisa's drunk daughter home, and never told anyone that she had been partying with some non-puritan men and women in the woods.

A lesser man would have used his silence as leverage, an even lesser man would have seduced her. But not Caleb. He just did the right thing because it was right.

Downtown could produce nice people too, after all. 

And it was difficult to dismis somebody like that When they were trying to trade a big-headed rabbit for a fatty fish.

“Alright then.” Louisa sighed.

She picked a fish for him and they exchanged meat, the fish was far meatier than the rabbit.

“But next time, if you must exchange something, fur would be preferable. It is getting colder.”

“Of course, thank you, really, I won’t forget this!”

She shook her head as he ran off. Her two older daughters sighed whistfully.

“Do not sigh for him like that!” She warned them with a wagging finger.

“Oh but mother, he’s so–”

“Trouble! That’s what that boy is.”

Exactly , two of her daughters thought dreamily. The kind of trouble that youth dreamed of and the elderly remembered and regretted.

“Oh stop it mother! Wittebane is a sweetheart. He’s just got it rough.” Said the eldest. "And he was so kindly to me that one time.."

“We all have it rough around here.” Louisa scolded. “But we got to look after one another. And although he is kind, the oldest Wittebane is not marriage material, he can’t even read the bible. kindness don't pave any ways out of downtown, girls. And he has no prospects, just a simpleton woodsman - is that the life you want for yourselves? A pauper woodsman's wife?" She concluded.

The daughters huffed and puffed. "No..." they groaned.

“His younger brother though.. Give him a few years, some life experience, and he would be a good match. He could be a doctor. He's got a good apprenticeship too, I bet he will get a job in uptown afterwards.”

Louisa looked at her youngest daughter who was around Philip's age and smiled meaningfully. “Don’t you think?”

The youngest stuck her tongue out. “No way! He's so weird. He just talks about witches all the time, and I heard he spies on people.. it's creepy how he snoops around.”

“Don’t say that about your future husband!” Her sisters teased and the girl slapped them with a cod fish.

Caleb was on his way back home. Thinking about what to do with the fish. Smoking it would make it last longer, but a stew was always good too.

He turned a corner and there he was, Nashoba. A handsome Mohegan man with arms that could hold down a wolf.

Caleb immediately plastered himself against the wall from the corner he had come around. Inhaled and breathed out.

He could do this. He stepped back out, trying his best to act nonchalant.

“Oh! Nashoba! Hellu hellu, mate~!” And immediatelly regretted opening his mouth. “Uh, what ah, brings you around the market?”

“Oh!” Nashoba was the embodiment of male beauty, his smile melted frost and his manners were better than any gentleman Caleb had ever met. He also turned Caleb’s knees to wax. “Hello Caleb. I am here with my father, we are selling our pelts. He needed a translator.”

“Oh! That- That must be going SO well for you!” And tucked his hand under his chin, accidentally bumping the fish against his side with the other. Immediately tried to correct his posture and laughed nervously.

Nashoba smiled gently and patiently at him, like he knew that forbidden feeling Caleb was feeling around him was. And Caleb’s ears turned crimson.

“Yes, it is going well. And you? Nice catch there.” Nashoba nodded to the fish.

“Oh this? No, PFH, I bought- uh, exchanged- no, I bought- I mean, we- uh- you know.” And flickered his hand flamboyantly, stopped the gesture as quickly as he could by tucking the hand under his armpit. “Aaaanyway, hahaaaa~! I will, I must, you know. Go. Business to attend, and.. stuff! Things! Just very important and handsom– HANDS ON kind of things. Yes. Nice to see you, though!”

“Alas, you must go then.” Nashoba said in his deep melodic voice. “Take care.”

“You too! Uh, take care, I mean! Have a nice day! Er, baaiii~~!”

Caleb nearly walked into someone, danced around them, apologised and pretended to be in a hurry so he could escape. He turned around a building and put his face in his hands.

“Oh my god….” Caleb muttered. Why could he never be cool around Nashoba? Caleb didn’t even dare to thread the fortress of complicated feelings he had for the man. He admired him, he wanted to be him (perhaps be held by him??) and most of all he desired his approval and friendship more than anything.

Caleb squatted down to shrink himself into his glum. “Kill me…”

“Wow.” Said a familiar voice next to him and he looked up at Evelyn, who had also chosen this alley to hide in. “You are a terrible flirt. That was impressively bad.”

“Wha–!? AH!? YOU!!” He stood, pointing. “What- Why- What are you doing here?!” He looked around, making sure nobody was around, then pushed her deeper to the shadows and hissed. “What are you doing out here Evelyn?”

Evelyn laughed. “What are you on about? I’m researching!”

She held up a notebook and a quill, her smile shining from ear to ear. Well, bonnet brim to bonnet brim. That bonnet really didn’t suit her at all. Caleb wished she'd exchange it for a nice scarf instead, yellow or green, to compliment her hair.

“But people are ignoring me.." she continued, disappointed. "I thought since you and I had our encounter last week, maybe humans were going to be more approachable this time around.”

“It’s dangerous.” Caleb hushed. “If someone finds you out–”

“Oh please, I've been here plenty of times. Just not talked to anyone.. much.” She waved a hand at him. “And it is nice to see you too, by the way, in better spirits, I hope..?”

Caleb tensed up and looked away. “Could you please forget about that.”

She tilted her head at him, he made a point to avoid her gaze.

“Kinda difficult to forget a friend in a situation like that.”

“Friend?” Caleb blinked, then scoffed. “Weeee are not friends.”

“We aren’t?”

“No! I mean, of course not. I mean.. You are, um.. You know.”

“is it because I eat toads? That's a bit prejudice.”

“What? No! A witch–” And covered his mouth like the word itself would summon every ear in Gravesfield. “Evelyn, I’m serious.”

She smiled at him, a little sadly. “I would like to be friends.. I would consider you a friend. An acquaintance at the very least, how about that then?"

Caleb's face twisted with guilt. She had been so nice to him last time, even now she was being considerate. It's not like he didn't want to be friends, deep down someplace secret he did want to be. But she was a witch, and he was a witch hunter.

“Friendship has to go both ways.” He explained.

“But we are going both ways, you’re just in denial because youre prejudiced against my kind.”

And passed him by. Caleb spun himself around and caught up with her.

"Which!" she continued, walking backward. "If you recall our conversation a week ago; isn’t even the same kind of w-i-t-c-h as what you thought we were."

“I am not in denial!” He protested, ignoring the rest of what she said (no clue what she spelled either.)

The duo squeezed through a very slim alleyway between two houses that had to lean against each other to not fall over.

“Yes you are, just like your crush on that guy earli- blrgh!” She shook her head to get away from his fish-smelling hand. “Ew!”

“Shush! You can’t say things like that. And, besides, it’s not like that.”

Evelyn looked him up and down, he was flustered and his ears were as red as his frown.

“Alright, sure.”

Indignantly, Caleb gasped. “Stop it.” He hissed at her. “It’s not like that.”

Caleb walked ahead to prevent her from exiting the alleyway. He threw a look around the corner to secure nobody was around, before returning his attention to her.

"I'm serious." He chided again.

“What was all of that then?” She teased. “You were all beesknees.”

“B-Because– He– I just admire him. There’s nothing wrong for a man to have an idol to aspire to be like, is it?”

Evelyn crooked a brow at his desperate defense. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” And marched onwards, pushing past him.

Caleb gaped and followed her across the street, into another slim alley where clotheslines hung in criss-cross. Evelyn flickered her finger and the sheets, shirts and pantaloons moved out of her way.

Caleb had to use his arms and dodged a pair of long Johns she dropped down in his path. He grumbled. The fish resting over his back.

Caleb saw a pair of nice socks and nicked them, tucking them into his inside pocket. You could never have enough whole-socks.

He decided to let the subject drop. He didn’t want to talk about that sort of thing! Let alone with a her. What did she know anyway?!

“Are you coming along with me?” She asked as he caught up beside her.

“Huh? Oh, uh–” Was he? Why was he following her? He squinted at her like she had him under a spell.

“What?”

He poked her. “Are you hypnotising me?”

“No?”

“Oh.”

“... Do you want me to?”

“No!” He paused. “Can you even actually do that?”

“Nope. But I can pretend for your sake, if it makes it easier for us to hang out?”

Caleb wasn’t sure if she was lying or not, he had never met someone who was just so– frank. But the more he looked into her golden eyes, the less doubt he had. She was just an honest person, wasn’t she? Very unlike him, who couldn’t seem to stop a lie from toading its way out of his mouth.

A twinge of a blush, he shrugged. “Maybe…? At least I would have denialbility.”

“Alright. Boopity boop!" She poked him on the chest. "You’re my loyal henchman for the day, you have to do what I say now.”

Caleb snorted. “Boopity boop?”

“I don’t know? I'm not good at rhymes..” She swung her skirt back and forth. “My sister is a poet though, she would have come up with something more fancy, I’m sure.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yep. Two older ones! Twins.”

“Oh.” He elbowed her as they walked, smirking. “Are they just as wild as you are?”

She grinned. “Wilder.”

And his smile fell somewhat, not sure if he should be afraid or intrigued.

Evelyn gasped and hooked her arm to his. “What’s that thing? I’ve been trying to figure it out every time I see one! Its not a chicken. I thought it was, but its not.”

Caleb looked at the duck.

“That would be a duck.”

“A duck.” She whispered like it was an answer to a grand mystery. She opened her journal and wrote it down to her old notes next to a sketch of a duck. Caleb peered into the page, he couldn’t read. But he was curious anyway of what the squiggles meant.

He knew the alphabeth, kind of. He knew C, P, W, and T on sight. Most which were scarlet letters, and the others were initials. He always signed with C.W. if he had to. Philip took care of all the paperwork stuff, Caleb never signed anything without his brother reading it to him first.

Philip had insisted on teaching him how to read, and it proved to be incredibly humiliating, and his little brother wasnt a good teacher either - Caleb was just left feeling stupid and embarrassed. He couldn’t bear it, and thus never picked it up.

“Are they pets?” Evelyn asked, squinting at the duck. "I see girls walking hoards of ducks using a stick sometimes..."

“No, not pets. they’re food, mostly.”

“Hm.. Mostly food.” And wrote it down too. Caleb leaned sideways to glance at the duck drawing. She caught him staring at her page. She tilted the book closer to him so he could read.

“Um..” Caleb pretended to read. “Nice.”

Evelyn looked at him, he looked at her.

“What..?”

“Nothing.” She said, but he could tell she was thinking something. Hopefully she couldn’t tell he couldn’t read.

“Mister Wittebane!” said an older, kindly looking, gentleman with a well-groomed brown beard.

Caleb quickly plastered on a new mood to greet the witch hunter general with. Oh god, the witch hunter general. He let out an undignifying squeak, coughed, and gave him a little salute.

“Mister Hopkins, sir. How do you do.”

“How do you do! And pray tell, who’s this little robin by your side?”

“Oh, she’s nobody. Just my new friend Miss Evelyn, uh- Clawthorne.” He caught himself too late having called her his friend.

Evelyn held her hand out for the general. “Evelyn Clawthorne, that's me!”

Mr. Hopkins looked at her hand, at Caleb who held his polite smile as best he could, and then Hopkins took her fingers into his and turned her hand around to a proper greeting with a woman, instead of a usual handshake. Like she was a daint little thing. Evelyn arched her brows, a little bit confused over the strange new treatment.

“How do you do, Miss Clawthorne?”

“Oh very well thank you! It is a very nice autumn day–” She got a slight nudge from Caleb, he was trying to tell her to be quiet with his eyes, but she couldn’t read him and looked puzzled instead.

Hopkins chortled. “What a brisk little maiden you are.” Looking her up and down with a gleam in his eye that made Caleb uncomfortable and Evelyn completely misstook for a smile.

Mr. Hopkins licked his dry lip before he continued.

“I haven’t seen you in church before.”

“I’m new!” She said honestly and received another light bump from Caleb. She couldn’t understand why he was doing that? They were just having light conversation.

“Oh..?” Hopkins folded his arms behind his back and nodded. “Where from?”

“Actually, Mister Hopkins, sir, we are in a hurry.” Caleb grinned bashfully and held up the fish. “As she said, she’s new, I’m just escorting her to her father as a favour. And we are short on time.”

“Ah! Do not let me detain you.” Hopkins tipped his hat and Caleb politely bowed his head down to his social superior.

Once they had parted, Caleb grabbed Evelyn around the back, walked her to a short fence between two shacks and swiftly lifted her over it.

"Oh!" She cheered and looked around herself in the make-shift chicken pen. Caleb stepped over the fence soon after.

"Oh, chickens!" She mused at the clucking feathery creatures around her feet. Caleb turned to Evelyn angrily. She blinked.

“What? What did I do?”

“Do you want to die?” He hissed in a whisper. Chickens clucking, he scooted one off of his boot.

“Huh?”

“That’s the witch hunter finder general Hopkins. If he knew what you are, he'd not just hang you, he will drown and burn you too."

“OooOooohh.. Huh.” She looked back over her shoulder at the older man, not at all impressed with his appearance. He was difficult to imagine as anything but a nice older man, hardly the look of someone who would sink, charr and torture someone to death.

She squinted at Hopkins. "Really? Him? But he was so friendly."

"Well duh, look at you." The chicken kept trying to sit on his foot, he scooted it off.

Evelyn looked down at herself, then up at Caleb like a lost little kitten. "What's wrong with how I dress?"

"...You're sending out signals. And you were addressing him so directly, too."

She tilted her head. "Wha..?"

Caleb inhaled and pinched the skin between his eyes. “Okay, Evelyn... Are you aware that you are wearing a saintly women’s bonnet?”

“Yeah, I heard others call it puritan though. It’s what I could get my hands on, along with my dress.”

“Right, strangers call us that. But you are a woman, first of all. You cannot go around talking to and greeting men willy nilly without company, be glad I was here. You shouldn’t, not at your age.”

“My age? How old do you think I am?” Wondering if Caleb thought she was a minor or something.

He didn’t. But unmarried women were treated as such, by most of the church. If not all of British society. Unless, of course, the maiden had fallen into unsavoury reputation or grew into a spinster.

Which, by the looks of her, she could be.

Caleb looked her up and down. “I don't know, twenty-one?"

He began to leave the little chicken area, passing through and out the other end.

Evelyn followed. "I’m twenty-two.”

He grimaced, looking back at her as she came out the other side with him. 

“You are older than me?”

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-one. But I’m born in late October.”

“Well, I’m born in January! So I already turned and you’re catching up!”

Evelyn fluttered her lashes at him like being born the same year made them kindred spirits. maybe even friends.

This street was quieter.

“Never mind that." Caleb huffed, and began to walk with her. "You are still unmarried so– right?”

“I am not married, no.”

“Right, so you are a maiden but wearing a married woman's bonnet." He gave the bonnet a distasteful glance. "In Gravesfield, most people are part of my branch of church; you look confusing.”

“Oh, is that why people ignore me sometimes? That’s very rude.”

“Uh– sure, I mean, it’s for your honours sake, too. And your father’s- and, er, husband. If you had one.”

Her brow arched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Wearing these clothes, people will assume you are a married Christian woman. But you're also.. Not wearing all the right things. It's all jumbled and miss-matched.”

He eyed the bonnet in particular, nodding up, and Evelyn peeked upwards at it.

“The bonnet, for instance, means you belong to your husband. You are also.. Wearing it wrong, your hair isn’t tucked under it. So you look… Unruly. If you go around talking with men, alone, they will presume you are an unkempt lady and are trying to flirt with them. Which, by extension, means that if something would occur… It would bring embarrassment to your husband for not keeping you under his thumb. As well as disgrace you.”

“But my hair is too big for it.”

“It is. You’d be better off not wearing it. You look like a stranger who’s pretending to be a saintly woman. you should wear a scarf instead-- if you want my opinion, yellow or green would suit your hair."

Evelyn patted her own head. "Would it?"

"Yes. So, please, for the love of all God's creations, get rid of that illsuited bonnet. It's an insult to your pretty face."

Evelyn giggled at his aggression to her bonnet. He had such strong feelings about the garment. She clicked her tongue.

"oookay, well, it is just a hat, Caleb. It's not a personal offense."

Caleb put his hand on his hip and puffed at his hair noodle. "It's an offense to me and fashion itself." She giggled again and he smiled at her amusement. "It.. also makes you give off a lot of signals that I don’t think you intended to send out. It turns people away.”

“Signals?”

“Yes, unspoken social ones. It’s how we judge someone on sight, usually people dress the way they want to be viewed. You dress like this - it sends out a message you may be… a bit… er… loose. Or nutty.”

Evelyn laughed. “That is so silly! You poor humans, living like that sounds awful. Having to guess and interpret all the time? So you have to judge each other by looks? That’s nutty. Why on earth would– Then how does women around here, or in your.. choorch.. ever make any friends at all if it is so restrictive?”

“They make friends with other women. At church. They can have male friends, but it's usually... er, a friend of teir brother, father or husband too. Or they're children- er- there's convoluted exceptions, of course. But on the safe side, best to just keep to the rules.”

Evelyn scrunched her entire face together, like the dead fish was not what was smelling here. “I need to get the heck out of this dress-up, then.”

She looked at what Caleb was wearing, and thought about how people greeted him. Both the native man and the general spoke with Caleb.

Perhaps she ought to dress more like him?

“Well, good luck with that.” Caleb saluted and began to walk towards his home.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“Home.” He held the fish up. “I need to prepare this, then I have work.”

“Can I come?” She hopped along with him by his side. He would refute her, but couldn’t find a shred of his heart that wanted to turn down her happy face. She tilted her head like a cat. “You are my loyal henchman today, after all.”

Damn her, she was adorable. And clever.

He made note to not underestimate her just because her nature was sweet.

Caleb thought to himself that, maybe in another life; they could have been best of friends. They were not so unlike one another after all.

She was the Reynard fox and he was the big bad wolf. One cunning, one sly. 

There was something so fun about Evelyn, that Caleb couldn’t resist.

Evelyn knew she had won him over when he scoffed and rolled his eyes, wearing a smile.

“Fine, come along then.”

“Yay!”

“So..” Evelyn walked up to Caleb’s house with him. “The mayflower is a ship, not an actual huge flower.”

“Uh-huh.”

She was writing in her journal as she walked, and Caleb had to gently put a hand on her shoulder to steer her away from walking into an old firepit and sticks. She walked around it and stopped when he did.

“And there’s two types of human arrivals from that ship that aren’t native to the land here; the saints and the strangers. You were a stranger, or, your parents were. And you and your brother became saints, by joining yourrrr… chhooorch..”

“Church.” He corrects her.

“Chuuuurch..” She writes in her journal. Dotting a sentence happily. “And if I want to talk to people more openly, I should be a stranger, not a saint. At least as a woman.”

“Yes.”

Caleb made some space on a stick that hung high from the ground above the firepit. Evelyn watched him measure where to hang the fish.

He felt her eyes on him and could see the quill in her hand waiting to write some observation down.

“...Yes, Evelyn?”

“What are you doing?”

“I was going to smoke the fish later, just thinking how much string I will need. I think what’s already tied here will do.” He sighed and put the fish against the stones. “I need to gut it first, though…”

“I can do that quickly for you.”

“Oh, no, it would soil your clothes and hands.” He gestured to her and the book. “It might stain upon your pages.”

“Not at all!” She twirled her finger and Caleb watched the golden circle come into the air. His eyes lit up at the sight of her magic.

Evelyn pointed her finger at the fish and the knife that Caleb kept in his belt. He jumped aside when the knife was drawn out of its sheath and flew into the fish’s belly. Evelyn flicked her finger around like she was directing an orchestra, the fish’s stomach slit open and Caleb quickly looked around for his bucket and put beneath the floating fish.

Evelyn emptied the fish's guts into it. “Bones too?” She asked.

“Uh, if possible?”

She ripped the spine and all the bones with it. Caleb, a mix of fear and interest, watched the skeletal fish drop into the bucket. For good measure, she decapitated the fish too and the head landed ontop of its entrails.

Caleb and the fish stared at one another. He turned up and saw her having tied the fish by the tail.

“There! All done!”

Caleb stood there, quietly, looking up at the fish and then slowly turned to face her. He held the bucket full of guts as it dawned on him how easily she could do the same thing to him.

“... What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He put the wooden lid of his bucket on and put it on the steps to the house. “Thanks for the help with the fish.”

“No problem! Any time!”

“Erm.. Perhaps there shouldn’t be more times. You should go.”

She blinked, saddened by the sudden atmosphere change. “What did I do now?”

“Nothing. Just… You are a witch.”

“Does it still frighten you?”

“Yes! Of course!”

“I don’t mean to frighten you. What is it that is so scary about me?”

He gestured at the bucket. “You– You just did that! What’s to say you won’t do that to people! That’s horrifying!”

She furrowed her brows. “How is it any more horrifying than what you would have done to the fish? The only difference is that I didn’t make a mess and it was faster.”

“Let me repeat the important part you skipped there: You could do that to people!”

“I would never.”

“But you could!”

“So could you!”

“I would never in my life hurt someone like that!”

She wobbled her head back and forth and grimaced. “I mean, you humans kinda have already, so...”

And Caleb’s chest filled with guilt and grief. He looked down at the ground. “Uh– Right.”

Evelyn pouted sympathetically and walked over. “Caleb… For the same reason you wouldn’t, I wouldn’t either.”

And Caleb thought of all the innocent people he had appointed to witchcraft. From what he had come to understand of Evelyn, she loved more than she hated or feared anything. Witch or not, she had not hurt anybody to his knowledge.

Unlike him.

“You are right, forgive me, of course. I’m being antagonistic..”

His shoulders sloped like he had become the rain itself. A drop from above hit his nose.

Ah.

They both looked up at the sky as the first drops of rain came.

Caleb sighed and took the bucket, he was going to go fetch the fish too but Evelyn was quicker with her finger and brought over both his knife and fish. They sauntly hung in the air and he watched the golden glow hold the items, surprised at himself for how normal it was already beginning to feel to him, to see something hanging in mid-air like that.

“Can I come in?” She asked when he took his knife and the string attached to the fish.

He smiled forlorny at her. “Yes, of course. I wouldn’t want you to get wet and cold.” He couldn’t say no to that hopeful face.

And invited her iside.

“I have never been in a human house before. Or, at least not invited.”

Evelyn seated herself on the chair Caleb pulled out for her. She placed her journal on the table and opened her mouth to ask something when the autumn rain began to hail down from the skies, a heavy shower, smattering loudly against the windows and the house.

“Woah. You know, the rain freaked me out the first time I came here. In my realm, the rain is made of acid.”

“What’s acid?”

“Oh, like a poison that burns your skin off.”

Caleb gags on his surprise, she giggled quietly at his reaction.

He imagined people’s skin melting off and the mountains melting like candle wax.

“How does anything stay up or alive then!?”

“Most of the timber and rocks, and such, are made out of the Titan–”

“Oh yeah I remember you told me that last week.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Do you really live on a giant corpse?”

“We do.” She crossed her feet and leaned back on the chair, looking around at all the items and furniture. Some familiar, some were not.

“Does it smell?”

“Eh, no different than here.”

Caleb hummed, smiling. “Heh, weird.”

Evelyn felt her heart soar. Caleb seemed interested and intrigued about her realm, it allured her and made her curious of why that was. It was strange for a human, after all. He was a lot less hostile than she had imagined.

“So you live here with your brother?”

“Yep.”

Caleb hung the fish on a hook by the stove; a wide square in the wall that was made out of bricks and stones that guided the heat up into the house, and the smoke out through a chimney. Above it was a shelf where Caleb kept his cooking utensils, dried spices and oils. Pots, pans, skillet and cauldron hung on hooks by the wall or further above the shelf.

“Just the two of you?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

Caleb got a small shovel from the side of the oven and began scooping up the ashes into a metal bucket, to save the ash for later use. Ash was good for plants, not only as pesticide but it held nutrients for soil as well. He also used it on himself when going into the woods, to keep the bugs away. His blue coat had faded in colour from all the ash he dashed onto it.

“Where are your parents?”

Caleb remained silent, letting the scraping of metal against stone fill the room with the sound of rain.

“Um..” He started quietly. “They’re not around anymore.”

Evelyn stroked her hands and lowered her chin. “Sorry to hear that.”

Caleb shrugged. “It’s fine. They’ve been dead for a while.”

Evelyn watched Caleb empathatically. He wouldn’t have the conversation facing her, it seemed.

“Still, it must have been rough.”

“I made do.”

Now that the space was clean he did a reverse tower of logs and sticks to burn. you kept the wet ones and the small ones at the bottom, the dry ones at the top. Heat goes downwards as well as up, this way the logs lasted longer and would dry the wet logs beneath.

It also meant that, if he lit it now, he could keep the cold autumn rain from pushing the cold winds into the house.

He kindled a small flame and lit it.

“Aren’t you going to work later?” She asked, wondering if he was wasting wood on their short stop in his home. Which, she hoped, might not be so short after all.

“No point in this weather. Nobody will be poaching in rain like this. And if they are, kudos to them. And I can't do my other duties in these conditions either..”

Evelyn opened her journal and wrote a little in it. Upon hearing the sound of her pen, Caleb curiously looked over. She smiled up at him and he turned back around to blow at the fire, pretending he hadn’t looked over.

“Are you curious?”

"Of?"

“Of what I am writing? You can read it if you want.”

She wanted to lighten the mood. And perhaps if he read her journal, he wouldnt be so frighted of her being a witch anymore.

“That’s alright.”

“You’re not curious at all of what I have been writing about your realm?”

Caleb turned halfway around, the fire picking up.

Her coy smile tempted him to at least come over and peek at the pages as she held the book out to him.

Caleb had hoped there would be anything in there that made it apparent what it was about. But her squiggly handwriting was about as useful to him as a sock with a hole in it.

(Oh yeah, he remembered the socks in his pocket now.)

He didn’t want her to know he couldn’t read, so as he held the book he traced a finger along the text like he had seen Philip do many times and hummed here and there.

Evelyn carefully reached up to the book, and turned it the right way around.

Caleb looked at her.

She looked at him.

He handed it back, his cheeks turning pink. “Nice.” He said and retreated back to the stove and pulled out the socks he stole to hang them above the kitchen, to warm them.

The book in her hand felt heavy now, like a weapon that had hurt him. That's not what she had wanted at all.

Carefully, she decided to ask: “Caleb.. Can you not read–”

“I can read JUST fine.” He cut off. “I just– It’s your handwriting! It’s too messy.”

It was actually very neat. She puffed her cheeks and closed the book.

“There’s nothing wrong with it if you can’t–”

“Ap-Ap-ata-ata-ta-ta!” He flailed his arms to cut her off. She hid behind her book. he didn’t want to embarrass himself further with an admission. She curled her lips in and put her book in her satchel.

Angry and frustrated with himself, he clenched his jaw shut. Hoping that his silence would wash the moment away. But it just made the atmosphere heavier.

Had she been human, or English, perhaps she would have understood it was more polite to pretend you didn’t catch someone being insecure.

"Sorry.." Evelyn whispered.

The rain poured outside. Gravesfield would be even muddier than usually for a few days now.

Caleb was very good at theatre, and he liked it - He could be anybody to anyone and never himself. And he was somebody to everyone. Usually a friend.

Because he had nothing else but a reputation to his name. A good one, at that. Not the best, but good enough to get by.

He knew his place. Nobody would be hoping for their daughter to love him, but nobody would reject his comradery either.

Caleb knew the value of friendship, and had very few true friends, and chose them carefully.

He rarely felt truly safe with anybody enough to show them his true self. He had learned quickly that who he was were not favourable. It was better to fit in than be understood if you wanted to get by and be treated nicely.

So he never corrected people when they made assumptions about him that gained him favour in their opinion of him.

He and Evelyn both looked out the window when the rain began to press harder.

Caleb threw a glance at her, she looked at the rain with worry in her eyes and wondered if the weather spooked her.

The tension hadnt passed yet, and he didn't want to give her consolation incase it would invite her to believe they could have a friendship.

Relationships were brittle, especially when people only liked the idea of you.

Evelyn frighten him, not because she was a witch, but because she saw him. His real face.

Caleb had a library of masks he wore for people. And could put them on in seconds. Some he had crafted himself, some others had put on him.

He didn't complain. He just wanted to be liked. It hurt to be alone. It was difficult to figure life out on your own as an orphan boy with a baby brother.

With Evelyn, however, he'd never gotten a chance to be anything else than authentic. It felt too vulnerable. Nobody had ever given him the impression he could be this authentic before. Everyone either told him who he was to them, or told him how to be.

There were rules to follow, after all. Better follow them, unless you want to be an ostracised weirdo.

Vulnerability was not something he could afford With just anybody. He had never been able to afford that.

He had to raise his brother and provide him with security, the type of security Caleb never had but had to charade into existance for his brother.

It was much better if Philip thought that Caleb was untouchable.

But thats not how Caleb saw himself. He was not brave, he was not untouchable. He just winged most things on luck and pure leap of faith.

Nobody would like somebody so fake and stupid and useless. That's who he saw in the mirror. A desperate, broken, boy who had to pretend he was better than he was.

Who would like that?

Well, Evelyn was a surprising exception.

Evelyn was still watching the rain. His chest pained at the sight of her sad little face. She had been so kind to him. No judgement at all.

Caleb inhaled, and exhaled.

“It is fine.” He said, and didn’t sound fine at all. "So stop looking so glum, you'll ruin the fish."

She smiled at the reference. “I'm sorry if I upset you.”

“I am not upset.”

“You sound upset.”

He turned around at her defiantly. “Well, I am not. Okay? I was just.. a little.. put on the spot!"

She let out a snort. He was so easily frazzled.

“Don’t laugh at me. I'm trying to make peace here!”

But Evelyn laughed anyway, and Caleb watched her giggle behind her hand and wheeze at his bad attempt of saving face.

“It isn’t funny..!” Caleb tried to keep his tone but the smile crept out over his lips anyway. “It is a very embarrassing ordeal for me.”

“I’m sorry! Sorry, you’re just– You got so heated. It really is fine if you cant read, I don’t think less of you or anything.”

“You.. do not?”

“No, of course not, why should I?”

“I… Most people would think it a bit stupid to not be able to. Especially since I am.. You know, of the saints church. We are known for educating our children. That’s why I chose to join with my brother in the first place, so he could get an education.”

“But none for yourself?”

Caleb bobbed his head and puffed. “Someone had to work to pay rent in the lodgings we had at the time. And food. I saved money to buy cheap wood and build this house and this lot of land.”

“It’s very sturdy though. Well done.”

Caleb smiled and theatrically bowed. “Thank you! I am very proud of it!” And knocked on a wall. “I did cut down some other trees though, for sturdiness, that were outside the borders. I wouldn’t recommend doing that, the natives don’t like it but Nashoba told me which trees I could cut, if I dared.”

“Ah.” Evelyn nodded. “My tree.”

“In my defense I was told it belonged to nobody but evil spirits.”

“And you cut it down anyway?” Evelyn grinned, leaning into her hands. “How brave of you.”

“I had it blessed first! I thought that would help.” He grimaced.

“Didn’t it?”

“Well, I mean, it did. I think. But people heard about it and now nobody dares to visit. They think it’s–”

“Cursed. I heard.” She chuckled. “I was looking around for who had done it and found out who you were that way.”

“Aha.” He looked around his house. “Um.. Sorry, about the tree. Though I cannot repay you or anything.”

He looked so guilty, she felt sorry for him.

“Eh, it’s alright. Maybeeee you could... just be my friend?” She fluttered her eyes. "Or I can find some other way for you to repay me. I'll think of something!"

“Why do you even want to be friends with me anyway? A witch hunter is a poor choice for a witch, you know.”

“I think you’re perfect.”

“Why’s that?” Only a twinge of suspicion for the witch’s interest in him. He knew her to be frank and honest by now, but still, she was a witch and he only just sort-of knew her.

“You’re the only human who seems interested in magic.”

“I-I am not interested! Not even a little bit!”

“Yes you are though?”

“Am not!”

“Yes you are!”

“Nu-uh.”

“Yu-uh.”

“What makes you think that I am?”

“You weren’t scared of it. Youre apprehensive of me, but not my magic.” She said, “In the woods, in my cave. You were… You smiled at it.”

Caleb shrugged. “So? Maybe you’re right, maybe I’m just brave.” and stroked a hand through his bangs, striking what he thought might be a heroic pose.

“No, you’re not.” She chuckled.

“I am very brave! I’ll have you know I sit in the woods where there could be enemies and poachers willing to shoot me!”

“That’s not brave, that’s dumb.”

“I’m a woodsman, a type of guard. It is what we do. It is important stuff! The king lives far, far, away. These woods were purchased in his name. Without me or the other lads, people would go around taking what isn’t theirs!”

“Thieves you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you a thief then?”

“I am not a thief, stealing is a sin.” The pair of socks were hanging just behind him above the kitchen.

“But you took my tree.”

“I was told it was free for the taking. Had I known I would have at least asked.”

“Even if you knew I was a witch?”

Caleb pondered, squinting his eyes. “Eeerr… I guess… I would probably have reported you, and then taken the tree anyway.”

“Aha! A scoundrel!”

“Am not!” He was.

“Am too!”

“Am not!”

“Am too!” Her fox grin spread and she laughed again.

She was enjoying these debates with him, they were fun and so open. caleb couldn't say otherwise, he enjoyed it too. Like, because she was a witch, he somehow stopped pretending to be anything but himself around her.

There was no mask to wear for her. And he was giving up trying to carve one. Evelyn pointed out everytime he was trying to pretend. That he wasn't fine, that her magic amazed him, that he did want to be friends, that he was actually upset or scared.

She had already seen him at his most vulnerable and insecure - and seemed to like him anyway.

Not even his best of friends had met him this intimately, and most likely never would either.

“You are a very difficult woman to converse with.”

It was strange to be so brazenly himself. Like there had been a fog around him his whole life and somehow she had found him lost in it.

“Oh hush, you enjoy it just as much as I.”

Caleb shook his head and turned back around to hide his growing smile, rolling his eyes at her stubbornness - but he liked it. And it was nice to be seen and not judged.

“Would you like some pine tea?”

“What is that?”

“Boiled water, honey and pine needles.”

“Sure!” And she stopped him as he took down a jug from a shelf. “Actually, Caleb, while you do that. May I look around? I’ve never been this long inside a human home before. I’d like to see how you live, if that’s alright?”

“Oh, uh, sure. There isn’t much to look at, so I’m sure it’s a quick look around anyway.”

“Thank you.” She beamed and went upstairs with her journal.

He watched her go and tapped his fingers on the jug.

She was different, but he liked it quite a lot. He just wished he could figure her out. If only he knew, maybe he wouldn't feel so bare before her. It made him nervous. But... as bare as he was, ahain, she didn't seem to judge him.

It was.. strange.

Smiling, just to himself, his eyes lingered on the stairs. he had to force himself away from doing so. Her very presence warmed the house in a way he wished he could understand how.

Maybe it was because she was a witch.

Caleb went outside with the jug, the rain pouring, dipped it in a barrel that stood by the wall next to the house on the backside.

The rain greeted him with a WOOSH and a splash.

Rainwater had filled it up over the past days and now with the gushing weather they were having, it poured it over.

He returned inside, shook his shoulders and poured the water into a kettle and put it over the fire that had begun to rise.

He removed his coat and shook the rain off of it, and hung it on a hook by the door.

Caleb prepared two mugs of tea, and thought that she sure was taking her time for just looking throught the three rooms upstairs. Or maybe she had found the attic?

Or.. maybe she had found Philip’s room and all of his books.

Oh no, Philip was so particular about his books and where they had to be in order. Caleb never figured what that order was, so he wouldn't be able to put things back if she had re-arranged anything.

He hurried upstairs.

Caleb opened the first door to the right, Philip’s room, but she wasn’t in there.

Furrowing his brows, he opened the left door almost opposite of Philip’s, the slim room. They called it a parlour, but it really wasn’t. It was just a room for them to keep most of their things.

Which were mainly tools, clothes and lots of things Caleb collected from the forest: Branches, wood, pinecones, and food. The room also served as a library of sorts, where Philip stored books he had either bought or slipped into his bag.

Caleb pretended not to know that Philip took forbidden books. It was best to pretend you didn’t see anything, sometimes.

That left his own room.

“Evelyn–” He opened it and halted.

Before him stood Evelyn, her dress discarded onto the floor.

She wore his trousers, her striped purple stockings. Her corset was on full display to him and her pale back a stark contrast to the emerald green silk it was made out of.

No longer wearing that bonnet Caleb thought didn’t suit her, either, her red-brown puffy hair looked so soft to him.

She held one of his shirts against her torso when she turned to look at him, smiling.

She stood framed with the window behind her. The sun was beaming through the rain.

Her bare shoulders.

Her smile.

Her eyes.

He was frozen as time moved slowly.

“Caleb–”

He shut the door with a bang. His skin tomato red all down his neck.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“Oh! I found your clothes.”

“I can tell! But that doesn’t explain whyyy you are undressed!? AND IN MY CLOTHES?!?”

“Well, you did say earlier that I was dressed like a puritan wife. Kind of. So I thought, well! People speak to you! If I dress like you, I won’t have to think about all those unspoken social rules.”

“I am a man! It’s different! You can’t wear those clothes!”

“Why not?”

“Because– They– They are for men! And they're my clothes.”

“Women can’t wear shirts here?”

“Buh–Deh– They can wear shirts and skirts! But not trousers!”

“They do where I am from.”

“Well, this isn’t the demon realm, Evelyn! You can’t wear men’s clothing! It is obscene.”

He heard her scoff in there. “Well, unless you have a different dress for me in here… oh! I know! I’ll take these as payment for the tree! That way you wont hace to feel bad about that anymore.”

Caleb put his hands on his hips and frowned at the door.

"Evelyn! I dont know what they do in your realm, but here, it is unacceptable to barge into your friends homes and take their clothes!"

"Aha, so we are friends!"

He cursed inwardly. "No!"

"But you just said-"

"I know what I said! It was a figure of speech!" He heard her giggle. "You just– You just do what you want! Don't you?”

“Most of the time!”

“You can’t just dooo what you want! There are rules, I will have you know there are consequences to breaking the rules! You can’t just–”

She opened the door, now dressed in his shirt and vest as well. Her pointy ears poked out from between two bangs of long hair. But she quickly tucked more hair forward to hide them.

He looked her up and down and quickly made use of his arms to cover her legs up.

“Good god!”

“Don’t you think I look dashing Caleb? no more uggo bonnet either. Do you have a scarf I can have too?”

Caleb patted his chest, then his back pocket, and produced a yellow handkerchief for her. She put it on.

He still held a hand up to shield his view.

“You can’t show off your legs like that!”

Evelyn looked down at her shins, her striped stockings clad them, no skin exposed.

Evelyn turned her golden eyes back at Caleb who was turning his flushed face away, staring down the hallway with a gulp as his hands hung frozen before him.

“Have you never seen a woman’s legs before?”

“I’m not some perv! I don’t go around looking at women when they undress.”

“It’s not that strange, it’s not even a sensual body part, I think?”

“It– Yes it is?”

“How?”

“It’s– I mean–”

Now that he thought about it. It was a bit silly. After all, he saw men’s legs all the time (and he did like men too) and didn’t feel particularly allured by it. Hell, he had even seen men in the nude, it wasn’t strange or that terribly sensual at all.

Caleb lowered his hands, looking down at her legs.

From her legs, he could trace the curve of her through the fabric, up to her waist, her chest, her shoulders. In his mind's eye, he saw her as a nude red and swnsual silhouette in the dark. The warmth of it spread through his chest and to his stomach. Like it touched him.

Shame came over him, for having such an image of her flash before him.

Caleb coughed. “You just– No! You cannot wear that!”

“I am and I will.”

“Change back! Lest you want people to think you’re a boy!”

“Do you think they will? Will they speak to me if they think so?”

The more he took her in, the more he fancied it on her as well. It annoyed him.

His eyes kept flickering away from her, then back to look her over. The legs wasn’t even the problem anymore. It was that he liked how she looked in it, how pretty she was both as a girl and a boy.

It confused him, and the warm feeling in his stomach spread to his hands and he became clammy.

Caleb grunted and walked into his room to pick her dress up.

“Please put this back on.” He folded her garments neatly and handed them back to her. “It is disgraceful for you to walk around like that.”

“Why?”

“Because it just is! It would confuse people!”

“How?”

“It just would! If women dressed like men, and men like women, you could– accidentally– uh–”

“Be attracted to both of them?” she tilted her head, smiled and shrugged.

That little note he made earlier about her being clever, was tapping him on the shoulder now.

He stared at her; wondering how she had managed to come this close to subjects he kept so carefully secret.

Shooing her away proved unfruitful.

He covered his heart even more. Terrified that maybe she had seen too much, and maybe not enough of the wrong things to properly judge him. Maybe once she knew him, she would hate him just as much as he did.

That would be the worst possible thing, wouldn’t it? To have it confirmed. To be vulnerable enough to say this is who I am, and then the person didn’t like it.

He shut the door inside him as hard as he could. Terrified of the light she almost threw into him.

“Back home I wear pants all the time.”

“B-But it is crossdressing.”

“Even if it was.. So?” She stepped forward to him, Caleb leaned back against the wall.

“It is unnatural.”

“Don’t you think it makes more sense for men to wear skirts then? considering you need the extra room?”

Caleb’s face turned an even darker shade of crimson red. “I-I don’t know what you are referring to.”

“Your genit–”

“EVELYN.” Caleb handed her dress back. “Good gracious, I was NOT being literate!”

“Oh. Sorry. I kinda struggle with sarcasm.. It drives my mother crazy sometimes.”

“I can’t imagine why...”

“Right?”

“...”

“Oh. You were sarcastic again. Right, gotcha.” And she clicked her fingers at him.

Caleb sighed, he gave up. There was no point in fighting her.

“Fine. Just– You can’t tell anyone you are a woman, is all. You need a different name.”

“Hmmmm… How abooouutt…. Everet!”

“Everet?”

“Eheheheh. Evelyn Clawthorneeee in disguiiise.” She hunched her back and rubbed her hands, like a mischievous lil old hag.

Caleb crooked a brow at her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m an undercover spy.” She danced her fingers on top of the folded dress, her hand was doing a pink panther walk. “A spy of the sexes, heheheh.”

“...You are going to be the death of me, aren’t you.”

She stood up and tilted her head towards him. “Not if we work togetheer~~! Like friends~!”

“No.” He tapped her on the forehead. "Being your friend us definitely a death sentence."

“Oh come on! Stop being so stubborn! We are totally friends! You called me a friend to Mister Hopkins! And earlier just now!”

“That was a slip up! We are not friends!” he crossed his arms into an X. Then tilted them so that it became a cross. “Begone, witch.”

She poked her tongue out at him. “Boo on you.”

“Boohoo unto you too, madam. Get another human!"

"But I like you!" She protested, and his chest felt lighter. "And it'd be nice to have a guide too.. I admit."

"Aha! I knew you had motives! I knew it! You witch, you almost had me there but I knew it was too good to be true! You just want a realm guide."

taken aback, she shook her head. "No, that's not it at all. If you dont want to help me, thats fine. But I do genuinely think youre nice."

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Yeah right, and sasquatch is real." Evelyn opened her mouth but was cut off. "Look, dont play games with me alright?"

"I'm.. not? I meant it. I think you're nice."

He frowned at her, lookingher up and down in his clothes. She was giving him a pleading look but he decided not to buy it.

"We are not friends. I choose my friends carefully."

"You appear to have plenty friends in town.."

He laughed. "They're friends with Caleb Wittebane, the golden guard, the Goodie downtown lad, the hardworking boy, that chummy neighbour." And shook his head. "Theyre not friends with me."

Evelyn held her hands to her chest. "I want to be friends with you-"

"No you don't. You want to be friends with Caleb, the human guide. You don't know me. I dont know you either."

"But we could know each other, if you want..?" She offered and he took a step away from her.

"Right, so you could tell your friends back home how you ensnared a stupid human so easily by being all.. nice!"

"I dont have any friends.."

His heart hit the floor.

"What..? But.. youre so nice?"

she shrugged. "Yeah, and annoying. And people just tolerate me to get stuff from me."

"Oh.." she wasn't so unlike him, it seemed. Just on the opposite side of the spectrum.

"You're nice, Caleb."

"I'm.. not. You deserve someone so much better than..." he gestured at himself. "You don’t know me well enough, but if you did, you wouldn't want me as a friend. I'm ill-tempered, petty, vain and stupid."

"I want to chose people carefully too." She faced him. "And I have a good feeling about you, even if you dont think so. You're... different. Good different. I like you. Im different too. We could be different together."

"Evelyn, I’m-"

Downstairs, the door opened and closed.

From where Caleb and Evelyn stood, they could see the teenage boy come in through the entryway, shaking his hair from rain.

Caleb instinctively shoved Evelyn into his room, she dropped her dress on the floor in the hallway and she flopped onto the bedroom floor like a ragdoll.

He slammed the door shut and leaned on it nonchalantly as Philip came upstairs, just missing her.

“Hi Caleb. You are home too?” He eyed the door, wondering why his brother was slamming it and why he looked so suspiciously nonchalant.

“YEP. Why–Why are you home? Mh? What brings you? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Oh I have to change my vest.” He showed off the ink stain on it.

“Philip!” Caleb gasped, aghast. “Be more careful! That vest was not cheap!” And lamented over how to fix it. Perhaps he could sew a pocket over it? Would that look improper or tacky?

“It wasn’t my fault! It was that stupid Sarah–”

“Pip!”

“It was! Anyway, I’m just here to change it and while I’m here, I’m getting my leather jacket. If you haven’t noticed, it is pouring.”

“Uh-huh, mhm. I noticed.”

“... What's the matter?”

“Nothing! Why are you changing the subject? Why aren’t you getting along with Sarah.”

Philip rolled his eyes. “She’s so bothersome. She keeps disturbing me at my job.”

“She likes you!”

“Ew.”

“Philip, it would do you some good to talk with girls. Some social practice, if anything. You got no friends–”

“I have friends!”

“Name one.”

Philip opened his mouth.

“That ISN’T an animal, an author, a fictional character, or your boss.”

Philip closed his mouth and huffed. “That’s not fair. If I told you to list off a friend and then said; bUt nObodY whO liVEs in GravesField! You’d have no friends either!”

Caleb smiled with as much schadenfreude an older brother could possess on his lips. “Nashoba.”

“Oh– He– He doesn’t count!!”

“He does not live in Gravesfield!” Caleb said in a sing-song voice and pranced his hands in the air as he mused over his victory.

“You are not friends!”

“Yes we are! He knows who I am, we greet, we even converse whenever we see each other. I tell him a bit of what I’m up to, he shares a bit of what he is up to, we even drink together. We. Are. Friends.” And grinned.

Evelyn, who was pressed against the door, took notes.

Philip was going to argue when he saw the heap of clothes on the floor. “What’s that?” and reached for it. Caleb kicked it out of the way. “Hey!”

“None of your business!”

“What is that?”

Philip tried to get by his brother and Caleb tried to block his brother from getting by him.

Philip managed to slip past him, threw himself down and picked the dress up.

“Uh..?”

“Um-! That’s, uh… A dress!”

“I can see that… Why is there a dress here..?”

Caleb stared at Philip.

Philip stared at him. Then the dress. Then his brother, and looked his brother up and down.

“Umm… You’re not, like–”

“NO. NO. NO-NO-NO. NO.” Caleb waved his arms around. “Absolutely not! It’s not mine!” 

“What? No, of course not, you aren’t a pervert. I thought maybe you– Might’ve– I don’t know. Met.. Someone… To whom does it belong to?”

“Uuhhhh… Long story short, I’m fixing it.” a lie toaded out of his mouth.

“Fixing it?”

“Yes. Fixing it. I tore it, now I am fixing it.”

“Where is it broken?”

Philip investigated the garment and Caleb joinked it away from him. Philip held onto it, a tug of war erupted between the Wittebanes.

“Caleb! You’re being weird!”

“You are being weird! And let go! You’re going to tear it again!”

“OH, so now it’s already fixed? You spoke of it as though you were GOING TO fix it!”

“I misspoke! It happens!” He tugged.

Philip tugged back and wasn’t winning.

“You always lie to me and hide stuff! Why can’t you trust me! Just even a little bit!”

“Because you are my little brother Pip! I’m protecting you.” He tugged it away from him, Philip let go and Caleb stumbled and dunked himself against the door. Evelyn leaned away from it when he hit it.

“So you admit you are lying then?”

“Ugh, Philip.”

“Admit it!”

“Philip, let it go. Okay?”

“No, I’m not a kid anymore! I’m fourteen, almost fifteen! I–I– I am capable! I want to help–!”

“You can’t help! Alright?! So just– Just leave it be!”

Caleb saw the hurt behibd the scorn in Philip's eyes, and rubbed a hand against his own face, sighing.

“Pip… I’m sorry, it’s just.. It is complicated. You will get it when you’re–”

“Older, yeah, you keep saying that. But I will never be old enough to you, I will never be good enough either.”

“What..? No. Philip, you are good enough. You are the best! You are going to change the future of this town, I know it. You just–”

“I just can’t help the only person I want to help.”

"I don’t need help, Pip. What makes you think I'm in dome kind of trouble?"

"The walls are thin, you know." He crossed his arms. Caleb glanced at their bedrooms and his shoulders rose.

"Oh."

"You pray every night as of late, and I have heard you cry some nights too."

Caleb ringed. "I don't ry. You're misshearing things."

"Whatever then, I guess you've got a ghost in there that sniffles into your pillows."

"Philip, cut it out. Thats not nice."

"Sorry..."

Caleb held onto the dress in his hands and watched his brother’s shoulder sink and his face grow foul with pain.

“Philip… If you knew… What.. What I’ve done..”

Philip turned to him, hopeful that Caleb would finally share, trust him, let him in.

“You would never forgive me.”

“I would–”

“No. You wouldn’t. But you are right, I do keep secrets from you. And you have no idea… No idea.. The burden I carry. And I cannot let you share those secrets with me.”

“But–”

“Pip. Please. I would never forgive myself if you had to carry even a feather of weight of it. None of it is yours to carry.”

“So there is something burdening you after all.”

Caleb closed his eyes, stroked a hand through his hair and inhaled, exhaled.

“This conversation is over now.”

“And the crying? Don't eny it.”

“I said it’s over.”

“whatever it is, I can handle it! Is it about--”

“I said: the conversation is over.”

Philip growled, turning to the room to the left to get his leather jacket. Caleb breathed out, stroking his hand over his face a few times to find his composure.

Evelyn sneezed.

An adorable little kitten kind of sneeze.

Philip slowly leaned back out of the parlour with an expression of suspicion.

Staring at his brother’s bedroom With wide eyes.

"Uuhhh..?"

Caleb started to force a loud cough into his fist to try to cover it up.

“That was NOT you, don’t you even try!”

“It was!” Caleb sniffed. “Ahh, it’s really getting cold lately isn’t it?”

Philip grunted, annoyed with Caleb now, and marched over to his bedroom. Caleb got in his way.

“Caleb, who’s in there.”

“Nobody.”

Philip looked at the dress, the door, his brother.

“Who is in there?”

“Nobody.”

But Philip steeled his icy blue eyes into Caleb’s warm brown. And Caleb couldn’t hold his expression any longer and the façade melted into a nervous chuckle.

“A cat–” He tried. Philip grabbed the doorknob. “A FOX. A BIRD–”

Evelyn opened the door before Philip could, and smiled down at him. He stared up at her. There was a man in his brother’s room.

“Hi! I’m Evelyn Clawthorne– Ack! I mean, Everet!”

Strike that, a woman. There was a woman in his brother’s room, wearing Caleb’s clothes.

Caleb quickly shut it again, his lips sucked in.

The brothers stared at one another with wide eyes, anticipating the conversation to follow once Philip’s brain caught up with what he had seen.

Philip pointed.

“THERE IS A GIRL WEARING YOUR CLOTHES IN THERE!”

“NO THERE ISN’T!”

“YES THERE IS! I SAW HER–!”

“YOU SAW NO SUCH THING! HOW DARE YOU EVEN IMPLY THERE IS!”

“I SAW HER CALEB!” Philip did a sarcastic little wave. “SHE EVEN SAID HELLO.” mimicing her.

“I said Hi, actually!” Evelyn said from the other side.

“NOT THE TIME, EVELYN!!”

Philip shook his arms and hands and a foot at the door. “WHAT do you call THAT then?!”

“A ghost!”

Philip could not believe his brother would keep trying at this point.

“Caleb, a ghost. Really. Now you’re just being desperate.”

“I know, it’s sad.” Caleb squeezed his eyes shut, a palm to his forehead.

“Incredibly pathetic.”

Caleb let out a moan, leaned at the door and put both of his hands to his face.

Evelyn opened the door again and Caleb fell backwards. She stepped aside and he tumbled to the floor.

“Ops!”

Philip turned his attention from his fallen idol to the girl in men’s clothing. She smiled, waved, and held a hand out. “Hi! I’m Everet Clawthorne! I’m definitely a boy!”

Philip returned his attention to his brother. Who laid there on the floor like it was his grave and sighed, the gravedigger was being late on covering him up with soil.

“Philip.. This is Evelyn Clawthorne. Evelyn, this is my brother Philip.”

“Hi! Apparently I don’t get to use my cover name.”

“...Hello..?”

Caleb got up and re-folded the dress. The two other parties watched him try to win more time with his folding. Caleb handed back the dress to Evelyn.

“Thank you.” She patted it.

“...So… Evelyn.. is.. uh.. New in town …… And her.. father.. asked me to escort her home.”

“Oookaay…?”

“And it began to rain.”

“Uh-huuuh…?” Philip was still waiting for an explanation on the whole clothes situation.

“.....Philip, I cannot say it in any other way than that we took shelter here, I turned for a second and she was up here trying on my clothes.”

Evelyn nodded in agreement, that is what had happened after all.

Philip, however, did not buy it. “Caleb, if you want to bring women home, I’m fine with that. Just say that’s the case and I’ll zip it.”

Caleb shook his hands. “No! no no no! No! That’s– I was telling the truth!”

“Oh he is telling the truth.” Evelyn tried to support him, Caleb gestured at her like SEE???

But all Philip saw was a girl who was trying to save her dignity and virtue. He smiled smugly at her.

“Miss.. Clawthorne. I assure you, your secret rendezvous with my brother will be kept between us.” he shrugged. “Orrr, if you feel insecure, you can always pay for our silence–”

“Philip!” Caleb scolds sharply. “Shame on you!”

“I’m kidding! Kidding… But I’m not an idiot, I know what you are doing.”

Caleb crossed his arms. “Well, we weren’t doing that.”

“Doing what?” Evelyn asked.

“Uh– Um- he’s implying we– um– you know.”

She tilted her head. “What?”

“Nothing! Forgive my brother, he's being very rude.”

Philip watched Evelyn's genuine confusion. “Wait, you were telling the truth?”

“Yes! Unbelievable, I know, but I was! I knew you wouldn’t believe me! I know how this looks!” Caleb criss-crossed his fingers around to mimic the roundabout situation.

“O-Oh.. Sorry, I–”

“Yeah! Exactly. See? This is why I don’t tell you things!”

Ashamed, Philip curled his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“Yes, you shouldn’t have pried and– and–... Next time, just– Ugh.. Whatever..”

“No! Next time, I wont pry! I promise! I'll just trust you, please give me another chance? I wont let you down.”

Caleb sighed.

“I promise!”

“Aw, come on Caleb, he’s promising.” She nudged him.

Philip had no clue who this girl was, or why Caleb seemed to actually consider what she was saying.

And then his eyes travelled down.

To her legs.

“Oh.”

Caleb quickly grabbed Philip’s shoulders and spun him around to face the wall. “Pip!”

“I’ve seen legs before, Christ almighty...”

Evelyn shook a hand at the younger boy. “See?”

“Ugh, no, Philip she’s a woman. You should always look away for her sake!”

“I have seen girl’s legs before too, Jesus.”

Caleb blinked.

“You have what?"

“Uh– I-I– In books! Just in books! Anatomical ones! It’s good to know–”

Caleb let him go and went into Philip’s room. “Which books?! You can’t have dirty books!”

“They’re not dirty! Caleb! They’re medical ones!”

“Of women?! At your age? I think not!”

Caleb looked through one of Philip’s books that looked medical, but the illustrations were all of bodies without skin or flesh.

His eyes widened. He had never really browsed through them before.

“Lord Mary Joseph, what is this?!”

“Anatomical!” Philip claps the book in Caleb’s hands together, took it and hugged it like it was a secret pet of his. “Don’t take it please! I study them!”

“That’s vile!” the oldest wittebane pointed. "Why on earth would you need to know how to take a person apart?! Youre supposed to put them back together! Thats what doctors do!"

"But-"

"No!" Caleb growled. "I forbid it!"

Evelyn, who stood in the doorway, interrupted the spat. “My father is a healer. They must learn anatomy to be able to identify what’s wrong. Surgery is taking things apart, sometimes you have to do that to heal someone.”

“See?” Philip said, hoping Caleb’s new lady friend’s words would get to his brother if his own didn’t.

Caleb sighed. “Alright-! Okay. Fine….” But still snagged the book back from Philip.

“Hey!”

And opened it high above his head. Philip jumped to try to get it.

“No! come on!”

“I’m just checking there’s nothing erotic in here.”

"Theres not!"

"Dont pretend with me, I know what boys think. Looking at these illustrations under the guise of education wont fool me."

"I'm not interested like that!" Philip jumped, but couldn't reach his book.

"All boys are interested in girls."

"Im not!"

Evelyn tilted her head at them.

“Why can’t he look at illustrations? Isnt it better than peeping on real girls?”

The two brothers turned to her.

“Because…” Caleb began. “It invites impure thoughts.”

“Impure?”

“Yes. Impure.”

“what do you mean?"

“....Evelyn, it is not an appropriate conversation. Especially in the presence of my brother.”

“Honestly Caleb,” Philip grunted. “I have more experience than you with girls anyway, so–”

“You do not. I can at least speak with women, you spook every girl you look at - bless Sarah and her interest in you. There's hope after all. But to think you've even as much as held a girl's hand is hilarious.”

Philip fumed. “I haven't held a hand but I've seen more than you!”

Caleb crossed his arms and leaned forward. “oh yeah? Like what?”

“I’ve actually seen a girl naked, you haven’t.”

And Philip’s smug grin evaporated quickly as he realised he’d told on himself.

Caleb tossed the book to Philip’s bed, hands on hips, his face full of disappointment and anger.

“You WHAT?!”

“Uhhhh– I have work!”

Philip began to run, he pushed past Evelyn but Caleb caught up and grabbed him by the collar.

“Ap-ap! Get back here! Where?! What– How- where and WHOM?!”

“On accident! I saw some girls swimming this summer, that’s all! I didn’t linger too long or anything! I was just looking to see if anybody was a witch! Girls my age could be a witch too!”

“Everyone knows the girls go swimming! You give them the privacy! What were you doing there unless to spy on them?! You peeping tom!”

Philip turned red. “I wasn’t peeping!! I was looking for witches! Like you do!”

"I dont perv on women! Whats wrong with you?!"

Philip felt shame press behind his eyes. He hadnt even considered it might have been peeping. His head had been so full of examination that it never even crossed his mind there had been a bunch of naked girls right there.

"I-I really wasnt..!"

“Aw, Caleb, come now…” Evelyn elbowed him and Caleb let Philip go. “He said that wasnt why. It happens. And, I mean, he didn't do anything. Its not like he painted them or told people what he saw.”

"But it's invasive."

"A little bit maybe, but theyre none the wiser and - Again - he kept it to himself. If its their honour and dignity you're concerned about, I'd say it's intact? And I'm sure he wont do it again, now that hes gained some perspective. Right?"

Philip nodded rappidly.

Caleb sighed.

Philip darted his gaze between them, and when Caleb backed off, he turned his attention to Evelyn. Wondering who in the world this lady was to have such an ease with his brother? He listened to her.

“Fine..” Caleb crossed his arms. “But next time you see an undressed girl, what do you do?”

“Look away.”

“Good.”

“Oooorr!” Evelyn snaked a finger into the air. “Oorrrr, maybeee… The girl wants you to look.”

The boys looked at her. “What?” They said in unison.

“She could want you to look. You know? Like, trying to flirt. Girls do that sometimes. We can sit all nicely, and try to look prim and pretty, so you’ll look over and fall inlove~!"

Caleb scoffed. “Really? That’s your idea of flirting?”

Evelyn smiled. “One of many, unless he’s thick headed and don’t get it. There’s nothing wrong with wanting someone to look over and find you attractive.”

Philip stared at his brother, at Evelyn, then the air between them. “Is that why Sarah keeps being annoying? She always sits on my desk. that's how I got ink on my vest.”

“Probably.” Evelyn shrugged. “If you don’t like it, you can just tell her you don’t like your space invaded.”

Philip rolled his eyes. “Like that would work.”

“Have you tried?”

“... No, but–”

“So try. Girls like when boys listen to their boundaries, if she doesn’t respect yours then she is no good either.”

“Oh.” Philip rubbed his arm awkwardly. “..Who are you?”

“I’m Evelyn Clawthorne.”

“Yes, we have been introduced. But how do you know my brother?”

She looked at Caleb, who gaped a few times.

He couldn’t tell him the truth, no matter how much Evelyn’s nudging tried to make him.

Honesty meant vulnerability - he couldn’t tell him Evelyn saved him from a suicide attempt.

Philip looked up at him, hoping, inviting him to let him in just a little bit.

“Uh… I’m just escorting her home. It began to rain. I will do so once it’s done pouring.”

But Philip didn’t buy it. There’s no way that a woman he just met had this great of influence on him.

The younger Wittebane brother found the floor and all of their feet. Caleb’s boots were bigger than his, filthier than his, more worn than his. He would never be able to fill them, was he?

He wanted, more than anything, to be able to walk with him anywhere in the world. One day he would. One day, Caleb would see what he saw; the future so bright for them both. Just a little more time, just a bit more… If he was just patient, the time would come. Caleb would see how capable he was, how brave he was, how determined and loyal he was.

They could hunt witches together some day. But first, Caleb needed to get out of this gloomy cloud he'd gathered around him.

Caleb definitely needed a doctor of some sort, praying didn’t help after all. And maybe miss Clawthorne was just the right kind of help?

“Right.” Philip let the lie slide. “Well, it is very nice to meet you, Miss Clawthorne.”

“You too!” She winked at Philip.

Caleb sighed with relief, glad things didnt end badly.

“Anyway, run along, back to work.” Caleb ushered. “And… Sorry about invading your books. You can read whatever you like. Just.. You know, try to be saintly about it.”

“Of course!”

The three of them went downstairs to see Philip off.

Evelyn had to resist the urge to use magic to keep the rain from him. The boy wore a leather hat, his leather jacket, and ran with his new vest back to Gravesfield’s post office where he worked.

Caleb waved after his brother. "Love you!" He called.

"Love you too!" Philip's voice drowned in the rain.

They watched the boy disappear down the toad, nearly slipping in the mud a few times.

“He’s a good kid.” Evelyn said.

“He’s the best.” Caleb sighed. “I just… He’s growing up and he’s not as cute as he used to be. He rebels so much.”

“Well, duh, he’s a teenager. He obviously admires you! You should take him more seriously, I think he might want you to.”

Caleb squirmed with discomfort. “What I want is for him to have security. A good job, meet a girl, move out of this house and.. And be happy, you know, independently, without me. It’s how it should be.”

“I think he’s happy if you’re with him.”

“I will always be with him.”

But the way she looked at him reminded him of the night they met. How, had she not been there, Philip wouldn’t have had him there at all.

Caleb turned away from her. She ached.

“So… Caleb.”

“Mh?”

“If I got the list correctly.. For us to be friends..”

And Caleb’s sombre spirit broke into a chuckle. “Yes?”

“I need to: know who you are - Check! We greet, and even converse whenever we see each other - Check!”

She had written an actual list in her journal, Caleb was staring at her with both amusement and surprise.

“I tell you a bit of what I’m up to, you share a bit of what you’re up to - Check!”

“Uh-huh.” Caleb crossed his legs and leaned at the wall next to the stove. He poked the fish.

“The only thing missing is: we need to have a drink!” She tapped her pen to the paper.

He laughed. “Are you serious?”

“Yes! A hundred percent serious! We are going to be friends!”

“Alright. When the day comes I drink with you. Then, yes, I’ll be your friend.”

“Yay!” She pumped her fist and pulled out a wooden spider figurine from her pocket. “Wake up Artemis! We got things to do! I got notes!”

Caleb gasped when the wood became alive.

“That thing again..! Your familiar."

“Oh! yeah, I haven’t properly introduced you two! This is Artemis, my palisman! Say hi Artemis!”

Artemis waved a leg. Caleb waved back.

“Uh.. Hellu?” Caleb couldn’t help himself, he was awed by her magic, and smiled.

“Soooo~!” She leaned at Artemis. "See you next time, then, Caleb. Good luck with the fish, and thanks for the clothes!”

“Uh– Sure? um- Wait, you are going?”

“Yes! I have notes I need to copy into my book!” she looked at the weather wearily. "I better go before.. um.. there's thunder."

“Oh...”

“You sound disappointed. I thought you didn’t want me around.”

“I-I don’t! Go! Begone!”

She snorted at him and opened his back door. “You’re funny. I like you.”

She hopped up on Artemis, she floated and Caleb’s eyes filled with wonder, his chest with baited breath. He remembered her flying him through the woods. He took a small step forward, wanting to stop her and ask if he could come along. To make her magic last longer in his presence.

But he stopped himself, held his hands politely and watched her make a bubble over herself.

She tucked her dress and bonnet under her arm. Caleb thought she really did quite suit in trousers after all, even if it did make him feel some kind of stirr-in-his-stomach way.

“Fare thee well, then, Evelyn. Dont be up to any mischief now, okay?”

“Nah,” Evelyn grinned. “Until we meet again, Caleb.” And winked. "And then we can mischief together."

And off she went like a pistol through the rain.

And the magic was gone.

Caleb looked out through the open door, the rain splattered and poured. The patter of rain against the windows echoed into his soul and everything was empty again.

“A drink.” Caleb mused. And looked forward to it.

Chapter Text

Evelyn was grinning from ear to ear, marching forward through the autumn leaves and kicking them playfully and purposefully as she strode onwards.

She wore Caleb’s clothes.

Prepared and ready to finally talk to the humans! Finally, she could make some real progress!

...aaaaand was faced with absolute disappointment.

The humans thought she was an annoying and strange young man with invasive questions and was not sensitive to the nuances of the social culture. Too blunt and inconsiderate - is how (s)he appeared.

She had no tact. Dressing correctly was not enough, it seemed. She was not Caleb Wittebane. She did not have his ease with people.

After having watched the blonde Englishman from afar, around corners and behind bushes,  she had observed that when he interacted with people. He smiled a lot, laughed a lot. And they always reciprocated. A social magmafly, if you will.

Evelyn was not a soicial magmafly. Not at home, anyway. But she thought it would be different with humans. All she had to do was what Caleb did! Smirk with a joke and lean in a little, right?

But no. Whatever the guy had going on for himself did not work for Evelyn.

They especially kept looking at her notebook suspiciously as she held it, happy and ready, to write down what they were telling her.

Evelyn could now be found sulking in an alleyway, head drooped over her book and butt on an upside down bucket. Sighing, as she scribbled down her misadventures and lack of success.

Two days had passed since she had bothered Caleb Wittebane.

He had made it very clear that he did not want to be friends. On the other hand, though, she had this gnawing feeling that he was lying. Either to her, or himself, or both.

She puffed a loose strand of hair from her face, tucking it in under her yellow scarf. She touched her ears to make sure they were secured, they were.

Evelyn looked around and saw that at the opposite side of the muddy street, there was a pub.

That’s right! She thought, if she had a drink with Caleb, he would be her friend! He had promised!

She looked through her pocket, counting the pennies she had, trying to convert what they were worth. She had enough for two gins.

“Have you heard?”

Evelyn overheard two women talking from the window she sat beneath, and tilted herself to hear better.

“Mister Hopkins said there is witchcraft afoot in the town again.”

“Really? Does he have a suspect yet?”

“I don’t think so, but let's keep a watchful eye out.”

“What wickedness has caught his attention?”

“I'm not sure. But it might be about Goodie-Ann, she might have had help.”

"You don't mean to say there were two witches? She had an apprentice?"

"Perhaps. Thank god she hanged."

"Indeed, thank god. Let's hope whomever our new fiend is didn't learn enough to get by on their own then."

"Let's hope so!"

"And thank heavens for the witch hunters,  and bless Mr Hopkins."

"Yes, and, oh! Speaking of the hunters.. I heard Mr Wittebane was found in the forest a week or so ago."

"The golden guard?"

"Yes, Wittebane says he was just napping, but my husband - you know my dear husband Richard?"

"Yes, I know your dear husband Richard, Lena, I've met him."

Evelyn could hear the women lower their voices as the gossip got juicer, and had to stand up squatting to hear them better.

"Yes, well, Richard was there when they found him! All awake and spying into the forest. Veeeery curious Margret, very curious indeed. And Richard told me he was certain Wittebane was actually out snooping on a trail for witches. But excused it as having napped, to not spook his worried brother. He believes this to be so, because he met Wittebane the next day, and it was by some conversation implied he'd been patrooling."

"Oh, he is a fine young man, the oldest Wittebane. Such a shame his background and position is so meager."

"Agreed, but at least downtown has somebody with wolves' eyes to protect us from witches. It's nice that men like him are here, too."

"It is! It is. Speaking of, how's your son? How's it going with him and that lass?"

"Oh.. well, you know, hear this..!"

Evelyn faded her attention away from their conversation and quirked a brow.

Everyone seemed to be snooping for witches, and be wary of them. Almost a fearful excitement by the sound of it.

Hearing the way they spoke about Caleb both with hearsay and rumour, as well as painting him both positively and negatively - confused her.

How could someone be considered a good person, and also not good enough?

Evelyn was so confused. Caleb had been right, there were so many social rules and codes that sailed her by completely.

no wonder Caleb was miserable. Having to balance reputation and always feed the machine with enough good-will to stay afloat, so rumour kept him in shades of white instead of black.

she dreaded thinking what the consequences would be, if you lost favour with the wrong person, and they set your reputation to flames.

You needed a silver tongue like Caleb, to be able to turn a bad story into a good one. By the sounds of the gossip, there was no doubt in her mind Caleb had turned his terrible night in the woods into a positive in a bypass conversation the past week. 

She thought of when she found him in the woods. At his sad figure at her doorstep. How lost and alone he was. How his eyes lit up at her magic.

Ever since Caleb had been in her cave and freaked out over her map, she had had to re-think her approach on things.

She could not do magic here without consequences. Consequences she could not second guess on her own - she needed a guide. She needed Caleb.

It would be nice if he would like to be friends. But if he didn't want to be, she was strongly considering buying his service as a guide at least.

She didn't want humans to get in trouble because of her. And although she didn't think their death was entirely her fault, Evelyn couldn't help but feel at fault, too.

She had to be more careful with her powers.

Evelyn looked at her hand resting on her page. She was a very powerful witch. She wanted to help people... she wanted to know how humans got by without magic. It might help people back home.

it might help Evelyn, too.

But never mind that, she had a mission!

She needed to get Caleb, or she would never be able to learn how to immerse herself in the human culture properly.

The clothes had helped, a little, but it did not bring her as far as she had hoped.

She knew he was a woodsman, a guard of sorts he had called it (she did not quite understand what that meant), so he was probably in the forest where she had seen him and other humans before.

Making clear there were no humans around, she hopped onto her palisman staff and made an illusion of herself as an owl, and flew towards the forest.

Caleb coughed.

The cold air was making his sore wet nose even sorer. He was coming down with a cold that he was stubbornly ignoring.

His axe hung on his belt, and as he bent down to tie a bundle of sticks together it tapped the cold ground and he had to adjust the belt.

Caleb didnt fit anything he wore. His broad shoulders indicated the size he should be, if he had been well-fed. But he wasnt. If his meals were heartier, he would have been putting on muscle. Instead, he wore clothes like a scarecrow. They draped over his sorry figure.

The wheelbarrow nearby him already had a huge pile of sticks in it.

He coughed again and dropped the bundle with the rest.

Caleb seated himself on the barrow, putting his hand to his damp forehead. His skin was cold and clammy, his lungs rasped with flem and autumn chills.

He glanced back at his work. Perhaps that was enough for the day? He really could use a break.

Caleb licked his lips and removed his musket from his back, tucking it to the side of the sticks, and leaned back against the bundles to gaze up at the colourful leaves above.

His lips dry, his bony body slumped against the bundles.

Caleb followed a leaf sauntly making its way down from the crowns and onto his chest.

He closed his eyes.

This would be a nice place to die, he thought. Should this dreaded illness take him, or his empty belly.

“Hello~!”

Caleb opened his eyes to Evelyn gazing down from high above on her staff. She waved down at him with a big smile, her golden eyes matching the trees.

What a sight.

She tilted her head at him in that fox-like way she did. She was almost completely camouflaged amongst the treetops, had it not been for his clothes she was wearing.

He groaned. She grinned.

“Whaaaat are you dooooing~?”

“Working.” He sat up with some effort. “I was just taking a break.”

She nodded and looked at the sticks.

“What’ya gonna do with all of those?” She lowered herself to the ground and hopped off. peering into the wheelbarrow like it might tell her.

Caleb watched her staff turn into a big spider that crawled over her arm, to her shoulder, and disappeared into her hair.

He grimaced.

“Er, I collect them and sell them.” He patted himself on the chest. “Woodsman, you know?”

Evelyn nodded. “I don’t think I get what a woodsman actually does? I thought you said you guarded the forest for your king?”

“I do. But I also take care of the woods. I pick sticks, timber, chop down trees when necessary. Hunt when requested. We just do miscellaneous work in relation to the woods, more or less. I work with some other fellows, but they have other posts.”

“Is this your post?” She looked out into the woods, trying to understand the parameter of where he worked.

“Yes, it’s closest to my home too. So that is why. There are three. I’m at the downtown post, the other two are on the other side of the river, you got to cross the bridge. You can’t miss it.”

He sniffed, inhaling snot, and breathed out a big cloud of steam into the crisp air. And then let out a stream of rough coughs. He turned away from her to cough into his sleeve, having to raspily recover in-between them.

She cringed at each cough being tougher than the other to get through. And pouted pitifully at him.

“Are you ill, Caleb?”

“No.” He gurgled.

“You sound ill. Terribly ill.”

“But I am not ill.” He frowned at her, his nose pink and his eyes tired. He even looked a little pale to her.

She curled her lips in.

“I know a sick person when I see one.”

“You are mistaken, then. I don't get ill, and even if I did, I can’t afford being sick. This? This situation on my face? is nothing.”

Evelyn crooked a brow at him. Last she checked, illness didn’t care about your schedule.

He grabbed the handles of his wheelbarrow and began pushing it up the little slope he was in. He had no energy. And the mud was still soaking from the rain two days ago, and made his boots slide.

Evelyn flickered her fingers and the barrow lifted up, and placed itself on the road.

He opened his mouth to complain but thought better of it. Nobody was around and he was so, so, tired.

“Thanks.”

“Any time.. Buuuddy~!” She knuckled his arm lightly.

He scoffed. “Are you still on about that? We are not friends. You are a witch, I’m a–”

“Woodsman, human, I get it.”

Caleb closed his mouth. Had she forgotten he was a witch hunter?

“And a witch hunter.” He added, just to be sure.

“Yeh yeh yeh.” She swatted her hand. “You humans all hate witches, I get it. But you’re different!”

Oh. She had misunderstood, then.

“No, Evelyn... I hunt witches. Just because you were nice to me, it doesn't change how things are."

Perhaps if he could get this through to her, she would give up on trying to be friends with him.

He didn’t deserve her friendship, anyway.

“Look, I get you guys get really paranoid and spooked over little things. And yes, you do atrocious things to one another. But maybe if humans got to know me, they would change their mind about witches! Like you! And understand we aren't bad at all! And that humans are just humans and can't do magic! Then, you won't hurt each other anymore, either!”

"Evelyn." Caleb climbed up the slope and put his hands on the barrow's handles.

"Yes?"

"That is incredibly naive." And began pushing.

She pouted, hopping after him.

"It's not naive to wish for the best outcome-"

"Aha, that's where you're going wrong. You wish for it to go right. Wishing for the best to happen is a quick road to disaster. You need a plan, and realism."

"It is a plan, it's an optimistic plan. Maybe you've heard of that word before? Optimism?"

He smiled at her, she smiled back.

"I dont want to rain on your parade, but realism triumphs optimism. And the reality here, sunshine, is that in this realm - witches are the devil’s henchmen. You may be a real witch, with real magic, but that doesn’t mean the evil we believe in aren't real. And so, we hunt it."

Evelyn furrowed her brows, walking next to him and all his bundles of sticks.

"Hunting other humans, then?"

"Yes, evil humans. Which brings me to tell you - no more turning pigs blue and green, and no more trying to help farmers. Okay? It makes it difficult for witch hunters like me to distinguish between you and true evil. And I also don't want people like me to find their way to you. Okay?"

"But... you know it's not real, right?" He was avoiding looking at her. She frowned and got infront of the barrow.

He stoped, and the squeaky sound of wheel stopped too. Caleb frowned back.

"There are no human witches, Caleb. That's not a thing. Humans can’t do real magic."

"But they can do real evil."

"Those people were innocent, you said so-"

"Perhaps they were, or, maybe they were evil?"

"I see, is that how you're going to cope with your guilt then? How is this doing better, being better?"

Caleb shrunk into his coat. She hit the nail on the head. And he discarded another mask he had tried to put on for her. It was impossible.

Evelyn lowered her scowl and sighed. "Those people were innocent humans, and I think you know that."

He was a sorry sight to see. Sick and not at all better than the night she had met him in that tree.

She saw it in his eyes, how heartbroken and lost he was.

His brown eyes found her golden In the quiet autumn forest. She lowered her chin, and he lowered his gaze again.

"You’re right." He admitted. "I’m just.." He trailed, he had no excuse.

"Caleb-"

He began to cough again. It sounded like a cat was choking in a bag inside him.

She reached for him. "You're really sick-"

He stepped away.

"You're right Evelyn, they were innocent. I just... I don't know what to do. Life is just continuing. Just because I know the truth now it- it doesn't change anything! What am I supposed to do?! What are you asking of me?! To quit?? I can't! Being a witch hunter is- it is-- it is one of the few things I have going for me!"

He spread his arms.

"Look at me! Behold, the golden guard of Gravesfield! He's a bloody sorry sight and God knows he's a poor sod but damnit! It's nice he's got our back, innit? It's nice to know Wittebane! If we cut him some slack, trade a good fish for a shit rabbit, maybe he'll keep watching our backs? So what if the human witches aren't real?! So long people believe it, all I got to do is run around and pretend to fight off illusions! Hell, maybe I could even prevent anybody else from getting falsely accused?"

He bowed theatrically, then gasped.

"But! Oh no! Whats this?? Wittebane won't hunt witches anymore? Blimey, what good is he then, eh? What a waste of time having believed in that bugger. Guess he's just a filthy rouge like all the rest of the downtown men! Thief and- and- bloody sinner!! Who can't even bloODY READ--"

He began to cough again, coughing so hard he had to bend over.

Evelyn blinked, worried for him. "Caleb-"

“NO. No, god. Okay, never mind.”

He snorted snot and picked his borrow back up, pushing it forward.

“forget I said anything! Forget we talked! Leave me alone.”

Evelyn tilted her head as he passed her, then hopped after him until she was walking behind him.

He heard her back there, crunching the dry leaves and digging heels into wet mud.

And once the temper had left him, he took a break, stopped, and looked over his shoulder at her.

"Yes.. Evelyn?"

“are you mad at me?"

"No, Im not." He wasn't. "It's not your fault."

"Promise..?"

"Yes, I promise. I'm sorry I yelled I'm... I've got a lot on my mind."

He sighed deeply, and seated himself on his wheelbarrow. Caleb leaned into his hand, he felt so dizzy.

"Sounds liiiikee.. youu.... could neeeed... a friend?"

Caleb stroked his hand down, peering his eyes up at her.

She smiled.

He sighed.

"We could have that drink! After you're done with your..." she looked at the sticks. "Stick guarding. Wood business. Stuff."

“Evelyn–”

“I will pay for your drink! You promised that would make us friends.”

He looked downwards. “Evelyn, we shouldn’t be friends.”

“You keep saying that, but then you also keep talking to me.”

“You are difficult to ignore.”

“No, most people ignore me when I talk. You dont, for some reason.”

Before he could respond to her, he began to cough again.

“That is a nasty cough you got.”

“It is fine, it is just a cold.”

“..You know, my father is a healer. I know quite a bit. I could help you.”

Her persistent olive branch of friendship was wapping him over the head. Like God had sent her as his personal angel, to give him a good whack.

She was too kind to him, too sweet, and honestly - a bit naive. She did not seem to understand that he was a bad man, that he had done horrid things in the pursuit of her kind. And, in failure of capturing her sort, had instead sent countless innocent people to face judgement of crimes they never committed.

He could never tell anyone the truth. They wouldn't believe him. They would suspect and punish him.

And ignorance was bliss. He had been building up a lie for himself to cope, and Evelyn just put a foot on his sandcastle.

He needed to cope. The guilt was eating him from the inside. Last time he stared guilt into its hollow eyes; his solution was suicide.

what was she expecting him to do now that he knew it wasn't just Goodie-Ann and those before her that he had persecuted, but also that every single so-called-witch in the whole empire was inocent!

what was he supposed to do with that?!

Evelyn was the truth. As long as she was in his life, he couldn't pretend. If she wanted him to live, she would have to let him lie to himself too.

“No, Evelyn.”

Her little smile fell and she sighed. “Why not? You do not seem to dislike me.”

“I dont dislike you, no.”

he quite liked her, actually. And that was also dangerous.

She smiled. “And I like you, I think we'd be good fr–”

“Which within lies the problem.” Caleb shifted his fingers around in the air, and Evelyn watched them dance like a couple of flies. “You shouldn’t like me, or rather, you wouldn’t if you could get it through your thick head that I am not a suitable friend.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are very self-deprecating.”

“Okay. Let me put this in terms you will understand.”

He grabbed his gun.

Evelyn blinked and looked between him and the iron pipe looking thing.

“I cannot be your friend.” He said. “See this? This is a weapon. It is called a musket. I don't know if you have these in your realm, but this kills. Okay? If someone aims this at you, you better fly away and do so quickly. This can shoot things at a long range. Like when we hunt animals.”

She looked at the pipe curiously. She had seen it before, but not known what it was or what it did.

“You have magic, we have these–”

“See! This is what I love about humans! You are so inventive! Most witches are of the opinion that you are all primitive and unpredictably violent. But look at this! You have no magic, so you make things like this! Imagine what your science could achieve if–”

“Evelyn.” Caleb grunted, “Please listen.”

“Oh, sorry.” She flapped her hands. “Sorry, sorry, You go on."

Caleb inhaled and sighed. He hated to do this. But it was for her sake. And his own.

He was a bad person. And he wanted to die, but he was scared to die, he wanted to live, but to live he had to lie. And she was too nice to let him live a lie.

“I have used these.” He said. “When I hunt witches.”

She blinked at him. And stared at the musket. “But you said it was for hunting animals?”

“Yes.”

She was quiet for a while, looking at the musket. He could see her put the pieces together.

“So… Have you actually shot anyone?”

“No. I have fired into the woods, though. To make them stop running. I have aimed it at them, so they will do as they are told and return to town for trial.”

He shook the gun in his hand for emphasis.

“Evelyn, if you don't want me to go sit in a tree again, then stop trying to be my friend! All it will do is make it difficult for me to save my soul! I’m not sure if you’ve noticed - but the more about this real witch business I know, the more difficult it will be for me to repent what I’ve done. My self-execution could’ve given those poor victims some justice. I’ve thought about it, you’re right: I should live. If only to suffer with the truth of their unjustified demise, and torment myself with it until it either eats me from the inside out or hell engulfs me.”

Evelyn scrunched her face. Thats not at all what she had meant by living, and finding reason to stick around. And by the sounds of it, Caleb’s mind were still set on death being an answer, if only now prolonged and torturous.

“I don’t want you to die, though. Don’t do that again–”

“Are you deaf or just this daft?!”

He smacked his forehead with his palm, twice, to really beat in the visual for her how hard he was trying to bonk sense into her.

“What don’t you get?! I– I have hurt people! I have lied! I lied so well I even believed it myself! Because– Goodness! They did confess in the end! Right?! So maybe I wasn’t making things up! Maybe they were witches, or evil, or something! But I knew in my heart…!”

Evelyn watched him spiral. “So… You… Wait, what? I'm confused.. you know they're innocent, but want to believe they're not.. because..?”

“Oh, for Pete's’ sake–” He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face to the skies.

“But Caleb, humans arent witches. How many times-"

"EVIL!" He shouted. "I'm hunting EVIL humans, mh? Better!? Is that better? Not a witch hunter, I'm an evil hunter."

He held the musket close to his chest.

“People like ME go and hunt evil people. And humans thinks evil means YOU. I know better, yes, you're right, but they dont! And if you're around me, they’ll definitely catch you. And you're nice, I like you, I do, but I'm not your friend."

Evelyn looked at his musket, and at him.

He held it up for her.

"Take a good look, sunshine. They will come after you with this! Amongst torches and pitchforks! We'll take you to jail, then trial, then when (and not if) you confess, you’ll be hanged! Or stoned. Ooor drowned. Sometimes we put you on fire, but not often. Because that’s a lot of sticks.”

He smiled through a squint of sarcasm.

“A bit time-consuming to collect all the sticks.”

Evelyn glanced at the bundles of sticks behind him. She stood there with her thoughts jumbled, and Caleb could practically see her olive branch wither and die.

Good. He told himself as his heart sank. Good. So she gets it.

“But..” she said quietly. “But Caleb, it doesn’t have to be that way."

Caleb's tired eyes held no contempt for her, all she found in his brown eyes were grief.

He lifted his weapon, aiming it at her.

“Please leave, Evelyn.”

She looked down the barrel of the gun.

Evelyn could feel the weight of the violence it held within it, like a beastly hungry hound waiting to bark out and tear her throat off.

He was a wolf, she was a fox. But she did not fear his fangs or his growl.

“I will shoot.” He warned.

She shook her head.

“No you won’t.”

And took a step closer, and he did his best to not take a step back.

“I think I get what you were talking about before in my cave.”

She was unmasking him again.

“Go away, Evelyn.”

“Is that it, then? You don’t want to be friends because you are punishing yourself, or something? You think that being friends with me, somehow might put me in danger?"

Caleb squeezed his hold on his musket.

"Caleb, you didn't know any better before. But you do now. If you want to do right by those people, you have to accept what you know to be real and move forward with it. You can't be stuck here in.. in limbo? And what? Repeat the cycle forever because it's easier?"

"You don't get what it's like." He snarled. "You don't get to preach to me about this. You havent been the reason someone died."

Evelyn took another step forward.

Caleb took another step back.

Why did she have to make this difficult?

"People are dead, Evelyn. And you expect me to just move on?"

“You’re not a bad person Caleb." She said, and the sweat on his temple rolled down his face.

He gulped. "I'm warning you Evelyn." He could see her down the barrel's bullseye.

"Caleb, I don't think hurting yourself is the answer. I don't think pushing people away is either. If you don't want to be my friend, fine, but I still care. And Im telling you--"

Caleb aimed the gun upwards to the sky.

And fired.

Evelyn gasped and ducked to the ground. The loud bang thundered through the trees. The echo faded and Evelyn sat curled up with her hands over her ears.

And Caleb saw genuine fear in her eyes. The loud sound, and the spark from the barrel, froze her. Caleb hadn't expected her to look so small and helpless.

he looked at his weapon, at her, let out a worried gasp and backed away from her, and moved the musket away.

Smoke slithered from the gun and her wide golden eyes turned to him. His expression contorted with regret and grief. Hers pale and terrorised.

“Leave, Evelyn… Please.”

She carefully got back up. Evelyn held her arm out and Artemis quickly crawled over her clothes and into her hand, turning into a staff.

Caleb breathed out in relief. His heart drumming.

But when their eyes met again, he could feel her jump into his soul and see how remorseful he was. Shame filled him.

Despite himself, he couldn't choke the words from escaping him, and whispered: "I'm sorry."

Evelyn soared above him for a moment, watching him. He dared looking up at her.

"I forgive you." She said.

And she flew away, disappearing amongst the autumn.

He sank down onto his knees, threw the musket onto the twigs and sniffled.

And coughed.

This had been for the best. He told himself. She shouldn’t be mixed up with someone like him.

He did not trust himself not to give her in to the authorities if it came to it. 

Right now, he only had his brother. Philips’s future, his reputation, his security... It was all Caleb had lived and worked for his entire life; make sure Philip had a good life. He loved his brother, he would do anything for him. Even reject someone like Evelyn.

She had come to him like an angel to a prayer. An ironic one, for sure. God had a sense of humour, it seemed.

God was testing him, for sure, to do the right thing for once.

This had been the right thing.

For sure.

Right..?

With his chest hollow and his shoulders cold, Caleb pushed the wheelbarrow to the lodge where the other woodsmen were.

Some of the woodsmen were on the site, doing what woodsmen do. Caleb spied George washing the cuttlery for them to use for lunch.

George was a good cook. The air scented of pork, bone broth and carrots. And ash.

Caleb parked the wheelbarrow by the side of the lodge, where all the skins were stretched out on square assembled rods.

Deer antlers and rodent heads decorated the entrance wall and the roof was coated with a camouflaging layer of tall grass.

Caleb stocked his gathering of stick bundles with the rest of the kindles by the window. Through it, he could see Karl, his boss.

Karl looked how you'd expect a woodsman to look, burly with a broom shaped beard. Two cauliflower ears from a rough youth, and large hands.

Karl had a pet possum, and Caleb saw Karl carry her from one shelf to another in there. He heard he had nursed the possum back from a wound, and since they hadn't been separated.

Karl wasn't a puritan, but Caleb didn't mind that. Religion was rarely a topic of conversation in this field of work.

The other woodsmen were an assembly of men of various ages and backgrounds - most with some criminal edge.

Tragic looking men, with their own brand of misery. It wasn't a competition.

Like Caleb, most men here were misfits of society. They just didnt quite fit in, either by who they were or what they've done.

Some of the woodsmen currently on site were good examples:

Lucas was here because he drank too much and lost every other job he had within a week. He would've done well, had he not been so easily persuaded by consumption.

Abraham was here because he had a temper that made him punch people (and a horse once.) Abe also had a lazy eye and scars from a pest he survived from as a babe, which gave him an untrustworthy look.

Dusty was a reformed convict who found God in puritanism. He was caught stealing when he was ten and got out at sixteen. Prison does things to a boy in his formative years. It also doesn't make it easy to fit in, either.

George was here because he had downsyndrome and that was that. He did the cooking and butchering.

Ezra was here because he used to be an serial adulterer, and thus had two of his fingers cut off by two seperate angry husbands. He was also a witch hunter.

PiousManNoEvil (Pete for short) was here because sometimes God just hates you. You did not have it worse than Pete, who lost everything and more in a fire. He was the Job of Gravesfield.

It is said that God makes some people have it worse because they deserve it. On some spiritual level, you did someting. And everyone knows that downtown were full of sinners, bastards and criminals. And a bad crowd breed more bad folk, ill-mannered and sleazy rouges.

That was why reputation mattered, it helped you climb up and out.

There was, of course, outliers - like Caleb's friend.

Happy Landon Goodfellow.

The scarlet letters on his arm were nearly covering his whole sleeve. The only thing that scratched peoples heads was how Happy Goodfellow had yet to be banished out of town.

One of those mysterious kind of dudes who got along with everyone, simultaneously as he gave everyone aheadache. Like a scabby streetcat that somehow now were your cat, as well as the rest of the neighbourhood. Despite yourself you would feed and pet it and insult it. And Happy would thank for the milk and compliments, and be on his merry way.

Happy hadn't noticed Caleb yet, too busy trying to open a jar of shoeshine with his teeth. And Caleb had no energy for his friend today.

Caleb began to cough.

His lungs caved in on themselves as he wheezed and he felt shakey. 

“Geez,” said Karl, coming out of the lodge with his pet possum snug on his shoulder. “You look like a beast chewed and spat you out, lad.”

Caleb grunted and unloaded the last of his wheelbarrow with the rest of the bundles.

“It is just a cold.” He sniffled.

“A wee bit more than a cold, don’t you think?”

“Mrgh..” Caleb coughed into his arm and turned away from his boss.

“Caleb, go home. We don’t need you here sick.”

George looked over and nodded in agreement.

“I’m not sick.” Caleb barked and threw the last bundle with the rest. “I’m just having a bad day.”

“Well, I’m your boss and I say: Go home.” And held up a half-day's pay to him.

Caleb grimaced at it. He needed a whole day's pay, but if he left now this was all he would get.

“Look, Karl, I kind of need to work the whole shift.”

“And I say; if you do, you’ll for sure get sick for a few days, and you will be worse off. So take the haff’pay and go home.”

Karl grabbed Caleb’s hand and pressed the coin into his palm.

Caleb curled his fingers around it and sniffed, wondering what kind of food he could buy with that. Cabbage, maybe? Butter and cabbage? He had plucked some mushrooms and chestnuts while he was out.

“Alright...” He muttered and handed his musket over too. “I guess that sounds sensible…”

“Atta lad.” Karl patted him on the back. “Get some soup or something, yeah? Keep your feet dry.”

“Sure..” Caleb waved dismissively as he turned to leave.

“Wait, did you fire this?”

“Huh?”

“Did you fire the musket?” Karl asked, holding it by the pipe.

Caleb stared at it stupidly. “No?”

“It is warm.”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry, you are right, I’m a little foggy.” He smiled and waved a hand around his head. “Yes, it fired.”

“By itself?” Karl furrowed his brows.

Caleb thought Karl looked like some kind of wickerman with all that frizzy hair, and a fairytale filled his head.

“Yes, see, it was the most curious thing.”

“Oh?” Karl’s cauliflower ears perked.

“Oh yes,” Caleb grinned. “There was a rustling in the woods, as I was tying a bundle. I had stupidly left my gun, for I had my axe see, and I went into the forest to where I had heard the noise. It had been a voice, I was certain its wasn't an animal.”

“Indeed?”

“I found nothing, so I turned to go back. But in the distance on my way, I could have sworn I saw a man made of sticks! All bushy from his head, to torso, to his thighs! But his legs, Karl, the legs were just two sticks thick as brooms. Like a hayman-scarecrow, It moved all by itself!”

Caleb waved his hands like he was just being silly when Karl looked somewhat serious about his tale.

"And the gun?"

Right, the gun. Caleb stammered and waved his arms around.

“Right! The gun!"

Caleb leaned in and whispered. Because he was caught up in his own story now, and the look in Karl’s eyes egged him on to make it exciting.

“The figure turned to me and I saw their golden eyes. saw me and lifts his hand, from it's finger came a zap! And the musket fired from where it was in my barrow. I jumped! For a second I thought it had fired at me, but nay, just a way to distract me for it to run. And the figure was gone.”

Karl's sticks-like brows arched high. “What a fancy little tale, Caleb.”

Caleb smiled, pleased.

Karl, however, looked very uncomfortable.

"Might've been a witch." Caleb said flatly.

And immediatelly regretted it. He had described how Evelyn does magic, her golden eyes.

"Ah! Er! I mean-!" Caleb waved. "Or not! I could’ve just been seeing things!"

Karl stroked his beard. "I heard youve been out at night looking for witches."

Caleb tensed up. "That... that was a nap after work. It was my bad."

"It's too dangerous to go hunt witches, on your own, in the dark. I don't want you to do that again."

"Yes sir, sorry sir."

"I invited you to join the witch hunts because i thought you were a sensible boy."

"Yes sir."

"and there are Mohegans out there, too, that might not know you're English. It's difficult to see in the dark."

Caleb grimaced.

Karl spied out into the woods. "Maybe you saw a Mohegan? I hear they dress in all sort of things. Maybe even sticks?"

The image of Nashoba’s pleasant face plastered itself in his head and Caleb felt responsible for any opinion Karl might get from this of the natives.

“Uh, nooo, it did.. zap.. and Mohegans can't do magic any more than you or me. It was a witch.”

Looking into Karl’s eyes was like looking into the eyes of a bison. There was a depth in him, a depth Caleb was too young to understand yet.

"Can't do?" Karl repeated. "They're human, too. All humans can sell their soul to the devil. I even hear the Mohegans-"

"I think!" Caleb cut his thought of. "That the natives can't conspire with the devil because they're not Christians. If they don't know of hell or heaven, then they're not aware of sin or Satan, and that means they can't be at fault. I mean, haha, they haven’t even read the bible!"

Karl was quiet.

Caleb shifted his eyes and grinned nervously.

"B-Besides! It struck me more of a… Pagan-like getup, the stick-suit, not the way Mohegans does it, you know? More like an English sort of thing.”

“An English witch. Yes… The savages have their own thing, I suppose.”

Caleb gaped and closed his mouth. This was his boss, after all, but couldn’t help himself anyway;

“Sir, if I may be bold. They are a rather sophisticated lot. I know a man who can both read and write, as well as speaks Pequot, English and Dutch.”

And just because Caleb was biased, he dared to throw in this as well;

"And he dresses very nicely, too.”

Karl nodded, impressed.

“Anyone who knows Dutch, though, must have learned it from them personally. Don’t you think? And if he can read, whos to say he havent read the bible too? How else did he learn?”

Caleb decided to ignore the later half of that.

“I wouldn’t know, sir. Damn them Dutch, but I do not fault the Pequots for wanting to trade on all fronts.”

Karl smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

“Well said. I think you have a point there.” And stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Hm.. A witch you say?” And glanced out towards the woods.

And grimaced.

Caleb turned too, and grimaced.

They were both watching Happy Goodfellow in a bush.

The man slowly turned to them.

"Sup." Happy greeted Caleb with a double-finger salute.

Caleb gave a small wave.

"Wow, did a bear chew and spit you out?" Happy asked Caleb from the bush.

Karl growled.

“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”

and Happy skedaddled away with his knees high.

“Happy!”

“I.. Will be going then, sir.” Caleb pointed down the road towards downtown.

“Right, yes, take care.” Karl patted him and left to chide Happy Goodfellow.

Caleb chuckled, watching Karl chase his nephew around the main post house.

On paper, Caleb was the same age as Happy Goodfellow, in reality he was two years younger than him.

Caleb had accidentally outed his real age a few years ago, but faced no punishment for having kept it a secret. There were worse lies than lying about your age. They were well acquainted with that sort of thing. Most of them wore scarlet letters, but none as many as Happy.

The woodsmen were the ones who got him the side-gig of witch hunting.

There was little else you could gain a good reputation for in this part of town.

If you were a man, with a slightly shady background, and no prospects; your best bets were to do something noble in your spare time.

Hunting witches was a noble cause. You were the front line of protecting the town from the Devil’s acolytes.

And Gravesfield had a habit of chewing the last bit of hope out of a boy, and spit him out all desperate and angry at the world.

The woodsmen had, one way or another, been handed a bad card in life, and made the worst out of it. Caleb was no different.

If they weren't already somewhat criminal, it was just a matter of time until they wore their own badge of a scarlet letter and joined the club.

Caleb had seen men come to work with a red letter on their arm, their head hung low and their hat hanging lower. Being a woodsman was the only job where you wouldn’t immediatelly get shunned or fired.

You'd have to whitstand the teasing, though. But it was often in good jest, and eased their spirits.

The shame of a red letter could turn most to alcohol and a spiral of I'm-broken-anyway-lets-make-it-worse!

Shame, Karl had told Caleb, was the real devil. And had therefore made an atmosphere for woodsmen to feel free from it while on duty.

The forest judges nobody. Caleb liked that. He liked the woods. He was free here.

Happy Landon Goodfellow was hopeless, though.

Nothing stopped that silly lunatic from being indecent in public. How or why women threw themselves at him was beyond Caleb. The man looked like a stork.

But he made for a funny character, and Caleb liked characters.

Caleb was walking through the woods, a shortcut home. He had picked up a thick lump of wood from the lodge site, and was using his knife to carve on it.

On his way home, he was making a story in his head about a wickerman-looking witch that flew on a stork.

and was carving the two figures into the wood.

Perhaps such a creature roamed the woods during stick season to help drunkards lost on the road?

Or.. Something..

He cringed at himself for having lied about the gun misfiring.

Why couldn’t he just shut up? He should’ve just said he saw a rabbit and missed it! Why didn’t he say that instead?! Stupid! Stupid stupid stupid!

And poor Evelyn.

Her terrified expression haunted him.

Caleb whittled on the wood.

He couldn’t concentrate on the story he was trying to make in his head - pressed too hard and decapitated the stork.

and began to cough again, leaning a hand against a tree for support. The coughs clawed in his throat and his spine tore itself from the lungs kicking violently. His gulps were dry.

she just wanted to be friends.

And now he had told Karl, a witch hunter general, about some make-believe wickerman witch in the woods?!

He threw the double figurine into the forest angrily.

Karl was kind to him. He always had been. But Caleb wished the man would stop trying to pry him open. Caleb could never resist trying to fill in the silences Karl purposefully left for him to babble away within.

Karl removed shame, yes, but that also meant Karl saw what you were ashamed about. It didn't have to be as obvious as a scarlet letter on your arm. It could just be... your heart.

And Caleb kept the door to his heart shut and jammed, the curtains pulled on the window. He sneaked around in there pretending not to be home.

And Karl was out there, knowing he was home.

Other than what was surface deep, nobody really knew Caleb. He liked it that way.

If Karl (or anyone else for that matter) ever asked Caleb about himself, Caleb quickly sidetracked to talk about Philip.

Philip Wittebane, everyone knew what a remarkable boy he was. Smart, professional, and well-spoken. Meant for greater things than downtown.

Caleb had made sure that's what anyone who mattered thought of Philip.

If you put the brothers next to one another, you wouldn’t believe they were related. They were too different.

Caleb had made sure of that, too.

That’s why Philip had nice clothes, so he could be presentable and respected at work and in public. Why Caleb was keen on working himself to the bone, so he could ensure Philip was fed, and respected in the community.

Like this, Philip had a chance to get out. Maybe live in uptown, maybe sail to study in England, have a good life.

That sounded nice, to Caleb. Imagine having something like that..!

Karl had asked him once what he wanted out of life. Caleb had done what he usually did and talked about Philip. It was all for him, for his future. And Karl repeated the question.

What do you want?

Caleb didn't want the conversation.

Like with Evelyn: having the conversation meant popping the lie. And then he couldn't live like this anymore, knowing he wanted something else. And then what?

Then what?

Who was he then? All the things he had given up on. He put all his hopes and dreams in Philip - he would make it. He would be a good person, a doctor! Have a wife, a nice house, children. A quaint little life, with friends who genuinely loved him.

To Caleb; opening up to someone meant burdening them. He knew how awful he was, and didn’t want it confirmed by people he liked and respected - loved.

It had to be masks and lies and theatre. Stories told by silver tongues through smiling lips. Better to be liked than understood, right? Nobody would love him for who he was.

He wanted to be loved.

After all, reputation was the social currency, if you wanted to be liked.

You could despise, but not deny, the importance of public opinion.

Philip grimaced. Caleb was coughing up a lung.

Caleb's coughing had a power that shook his whole body and anything he was holding onto. The drying clusters of spice by the window next to the stone kitchen, swayed when he wheezed out.

His linnen shirt hung damp over his back. He gasped, using his sleeve to dry his forehead and cheek.

He snivelled, shook himself better, and cut two thick slices of bread for Philip and one for himself.

Philip grimaced, throwing a judging glance up-and-down at him.

“That is not sounding good…”

Philip set the table, trying his best to ignore his brother’s daggering glare in the back of his neck.

“I’mmm just saying!”

“Well, I am saying: Shut up. It is just a cold.”

“Uh-huh.”

Philip looked over his shoulder, watching Caleb move Philip’s work out of the way on the kitchen table.

“Careful, the ink isn’t dry yet.”

Caleb carefully poked a page to see if it was dry enough to pile another paper on top, it was, so he did.

“What are you working on this time?”

“Still logging the storage units. It's boring work.” Philip groaned.

“Ap-ap-ap! Logs are easy work for you!”

“It is! But it is dull.” Philip complained, not catching Caleb’s eye roll. "I wish I had a different apprentenceship, where I could learn something interesting."

“Be glad it is dull.” Caleb coughed. “Easy money.”

“I need something more advancing!” Philip groaned louder.

Caleb scoffed at his brother's teenage tantrum, and tasted the soup before putting in more cumin. The carrots were soft enough now.

“You know,” Philip wagged the spoons before setting them. “A ship came in yesterday full of books! But I have to log all the other cargo first, they’re just sitting there, Caleb! Waiting for me to inhale them! It is driving me insane!”

Caleb chuckled. “I know you want to read them, but do a good job logging, and you will get to peek in them faster.”

The older Wittebane served out two bowls of cabbage and carrots soup, and a plate of bread with butter.

Philip glanced at the uneven amount of bread. But was used to every excuse in the book as of why that was, and didn’t bring it up.

“I don’t get why the other guys at the office can’t do it…” Phiip sighed, seating himself.

“Because you’re the little guy, and the little guy gets the most tedious work. That’s just how it works.”

Philip bitterly dipped his bread in the soup. Caleb smiled.

“One day you’ll be an adult, and then you can push the dull stuff off to a little guy. Make them do the work for you.”

Philip hummed and took a bite. “I kind of like the sound of that.”

“Right? And..” He tapped his spoon at the table. “If you do very well, you can have your own office with a ton of little guys running around doing your bidding!”

He grinned, twirling the spoon like a wand.

“Imagine that, Pip. Running your own business, eh?”

Philip pondered. “I guess…” Then smiled, leaning in. “Like, maybe we could start a witch hunting business!”

Caleb’s smile crumbled a little.

“We will capture witches, torture them for information on the devil, and we could eradicate all evil!”

“Erm.. Sure..!”

“And then we would really be getting up in the world! Both of us, legends of Gravesfield. This town would finally respect us for what we do and not what we are.”

Caleb didn’t want to shoot down his brother’s dreams, not when he was smiling so brightly.

“Sure thing, Pippy. But first..” He tapped the logbook. “Do a good job logging. I bet a future witch hunter business needs a good accounting system.”

Philip shook his head, humoured. “Alright then.”

“Good–” And he coughed into his arm again. Philip watched him with worry.

“We need to get you medicine or something.”

“No! No, no Pip, I am fine, really! Just a cold. It will be over by the morrow! For sure.” He took a spoonful of soup. “Mmmh! This is gonna heal me right up!”

Philip smiled.

But that night, Philip laid awake in his bed, listening to his brother through the wall.

The coughing was expected, but the faint crying wrenched his chest.

He tried to ignore it, he really did, turning in his bed to face away from the wall.

But it was still there. Softened sobs and coughs into a pillow. When Philip closed his eyes, he heard Caleb's plea.

But it wasn't to God.

It was to Evelyn.

His brother was praying for that strange crossdressing girl. Who was she, anyway?

Philip looked at the wall. He placed a hand on it, like the sentiment might reach him in spirit.

The wall, Philip felt, was there between them regardless if it was physically there or not.

When Philip was little, Caleb knew everything. He always knew where to go, what to do, he took the lead and while he led Philip he made it fun! With stories, with games. Caleb was amazing, and Philip wanted to be there, next to him, right by his hero's side. Do what he did! Just a little brother, wanting to tag along his big brother.

But Philip felt the gap between them through every hair-ruffle, through every lecture, every order - like he was still a small child.

A child, even if he was the one who could read. He was the one with the better job. He was the one who understood what the contracts Caleb had to sign meant. He was the smart one! Caleb might be street-wise and a people-person, but Philip had the superior thing: intellect and information. Everyone, including Caleb, always said that his brain was going to take him above their station. Who was he to not believe them? He was above it, everyone said so!

So why wouldn't Caleb think him an equal, over someone as flimsy as Happy Landon? What did Happy have, aside from age, that Philip didn't?

He couldn't figure it out.

Caleb would never let Philip help until he had proven he was mature enough to handle it.

Children wasted time with chores and stupid games. Philip spent his time studying and planning the future. A future that would get him and Caleb out of downtown Gravesfield! He avoided associating himself with kids his age so that Caleb would see how little he needed playmates - he wanted collueges, and have adult discussions! Like the authors of the books he read. His favourite book right now was the radical treatise of The Hammer Of Witches, by Heinrich Kramer.

But not just build a future that would end after he died. No, he wanted to make a difference for the greater good. To be remembered.

Philip didnt remember their parents.

It terrified him to imagine a similar fate.

what if nobody remembers him? Nobody grieves him? He's just here, in his poor life in this poor part of town. And then he dies, and that's it. Philip got the impression that Caleb put so much importance on social-climbing out of downtown, and being somebody, because their parents were nobodies. Maybe that's why Caleb never talked about them?

Philip looked at this dull community. With their uninteresting books and virtious flatness. It was all charades. It was dumb and fake. He was not fake, and neither was Caleb. They were both better than this.

Surely, everyone agreed this was a shithole nobody wanted to stay in. A muddy town made for dull and forgettable people.

Why were they even here? They should travel, explore the world, an adventure where they tracked down where and how the devil made his deals. At crossroads, in dreams, in someplace you could only fly to where the hills were lilac and the trees red and curly.

Like in Caleb’s stories.

His amazing fairytales of little girls and boys who were afraid but found courage anyway. Of fable figures that lived someplace where people understood when you were different, and loved you anyway. Characters that were friends, lovers, family, who dared to dream and it came true.

Philip wanted that. He wanted the fairy tale where things turned out nicely in the end, because you had courage to do the right thing.

The fairy tale place where your big brother weren't melancholic over being stuck in this bitter sad life. A brother who was fun and proud again, who played along with you again. A brother who understood that he missed you. Who wanted to catch up and meet him where you were now. Philip wanted it to be how it used to be.

Why did things have to change?

He felt the gap between them. In age and experience, like an invisible door that was closed between them. Locked from Caleb's side.

Or right now; a thin wall between their rooms.

Couldn't they be adults together too? It would be fun, could be fun. But secretly, deep down; he also wanted to play witch hunters in the woods again. That was fun. He always knew the ending. It was nice to know how it ended. The evil witch died, the hunter wins. And the same game was played over and over. Over and over. And it only stopped because Caleb couldn't play anymore.

Philip was trying to play this new game Caleb was all about - being an adult.

This was not the first time he had heard his brother cry.

But it was the first time he had heard him have such a nasty cough.

He had not looked well. All pale and weary. Crestfallen, even.

If he was not better tomorrow, he would have to do something about it!

And the ‘morrow came.

Philip stared Caleb down across the breakfast.

His brother was sunken, looking like he was going to wilt and turn into a corpse. Dry-troathed and coughing, his hair greasy and his gaze somewhere far away and hazy.

Philip grimaced.

“Okay.” Philip clicked his tongue. “You are not going to work today. I can tell the woodsmen on my way to work–”

Caleb scoffed. “Uuhhh, no?? I’m going to work today. We need the money.”

“My income is just fine.”

"Your income?" Caleb laughed. "Youre an apprentice, you don't get paid."

"I meant the poverty aid."

"The aid? The aid is paying for your share of food and minimum necessities. I do the best I can with the textile we afford" Caleb held up his own sleeve, showing where he had stitched the fringes. Cheap cotton. He would love some linnen for the summers, or wool for the winters. But cotton had to do, even if it tore so easily.

Philip rolled his eyes. "It's no different than yours-"

"Indeed. A workman's clothes."

Philip took another bite of his bread and butter.

Philip knew Caleb got his biggest meal of the day at work. And let Philip be well fed at home. Hence the uneven portions.

At least, that’s what Caleb told him.

The brothers farmed in their backyard, saving on money by eating a lot of onion and pumkin themed dishes. With that precaution, half of the aid could go into savings.

"The aid is an investment for your future. My money pays for your clothes and my food, your aid pays for your share food and your future, Remember? I am not taking a penny out of that fund.”

Philip soured. “This is an emergency! I don’t need any new clothes or nothing!”

“You will soon! You are growing and– And there’s that stain you made!”

Philip cringed. “That wasn’t my fault!”

“Philip, I tried to wash it out and it didn't work very well. I had to match the colour thread and try stitch over it- it looks awful. I'm not pleased with the little bird I embroidered over it. And I was tempted to make a pocket but that's out of question.” He pointed at him. “You have to be more careful Philip. I don't care if it was Sarah's fault! You got to start considering your appearance! We are not not born gentlemen but we-"

“Who cares?!” Philip raised his arms. “I don’t care what people think! I can have a tacky vest! The world won't end. Besides, you are way too harsh about the bird, I think it looks great!”

Caleb ignored the compliment. “You should care! You dont want to make a poor entrance! Your future depends on how you get percieved. People judge, you know.”

“Why can’t you look nice too, then! Mh?”

“Because I am a half-wit woodsman, Pip.”

He tapped him on the head with the spoon to shut him up.

“It is a waste on me.” And twirled the spoon, gesturing at all of Philip. “Appearances are important.”

Philip slowly blinked at his brother, annoyed. “Witch hunters don’t need to look fancy.”

“Witch hunter generals do. And Mr. Hopkins looks proper. Besides, you are not a witch hunter. I am.” He ate his bread and soup.

“Barely...” Philip muttered. “You didn’t join in last time they gathered pitchforks. It would be good if you did, if we are going to have a business someday.”

“Hey..”

But Caleb had nothing to follow it up with. He only reached for his brother’s shoulder, and met him with a gentle tone and gaze.

Philip's ice-blue eyes peered helplessly at his older brother.

"They could've used your help, Caleb." Philip stroked his bread inside his bowl. "Youre their best scout.."

"I'm not the best one."

"You're the golden guard."

Caleb smiled. "Smoke and mirrors, Pip."

"But it's what people think of you.. And you just said appearances matter, shouldn't you appear?"

Caleb removed his hand. What a clever little turn around that was. It surprised him.

"Please?" Philip pleaded. "If only to make people feel safer? I know I would.."

Caleb inhaled, and exhaled. And thought of Evelyn. For what reason had he scared her away, if not to keep being a witch hunter like he had told her?

"Maybe." He ruffled Philip. But it didn’t cheer his brother up. “Look, you can change into your regular clothes when you are home, then. If it bothers you so much.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Puts them at less risk, too.” He shrugged. “But please, Philip, we are not gentlemen by breed, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try to behave like it. People trust well-mannered and well-dressed men.”

Philip cringed. “I guess.”

“They do!” He said while still chewing food. “Mark my words, you will get away with a lot if people think you’re a good person.”

“I am a good person! Isn’t that enough?”

“Not in this world.”

Caleb poked the eggs with the spoon, he had no appetite. He was so tired.. so tired.. he closed his eyes and leaned into his palm.

“You can do everything right, and it still goes wrong.”

His palm was a cloud. It made him float. His eyes felt so heavyvthey rolled up and into a dream.

A memory.

He had been outside with Philip, holding Philip’s hands as his brother was learning to take steps in the grass.

Caleb cheered for him, proud of his baby brother’s achievements.

He was doing so well, gurgling and babbling and pooping and eating on his own.

“You are doing it, Pip!”

Caleb walked in a circle, waddling as Philip walked between his legs with him as support. He squeaked happily.

But happiness died at the sound of banging from their tiny shed of a house.

Caleb quickly crouched down to embrace Philip and pick him up.

His mother screamed at the stranger in their home about paying what he owed her, and Caleb ran away to hide by the side of the house.

After a moment, her customer exited the house aggressively and strode down the street.

Caleb slipped in to check on her when the coast felt clear.

She was sobbing and was pressing her hand to a swollen cheek. The man had apparently got away with not paying her.

Caleb comforted her, giving her Philip to hug onto as he cleaned up around the room, and took care of her.

Philip was one. He could stand on his own, and had for some time, but always fell back onto his butt. Their mother didn’t have the time he needed, so Caleb took her place raising him.

Once she was done crying, she kissed Caleb and Philip, and left for the streets again.

Caleb did the parenting, of both himself and his brother. He cooked, he did laundry, and he whittled sticks to weave into baskets.

He had learned how to do a lot with wood from the farmers around them. They always needed extra hands doing the tideous boring labours. Whipping straw into fine fibre and weave into threads and rope. Carry water to animals. Etcetera.

It gave Caleb something to do while Philip napped on his back.

She couldn't carry him. Mollies seldom get a customer with a babe on their backs, it kind of reminds the man of the possible consequences.

Before their mother left each day, she made s ure to tell him what a good boy he was. How proud she was over how much he didn't need her to look after him.

It felt nice being praised. Less nice that she was so eager for him to be an adult and her equal. Like he already was.

He had no time for friends or games. He had to get that company from a baby and adults he worked for. Too old and too young at the same time.

But he immediately felt guilty when he felt it was unfair. Because she was trying her best, and they're family, and surely family has to burn themselves to keep each other warm.

That's love. Right? Sacrifice.

she was always telling him intimate details of how much in pain she was. How she hated this town, she hated the world. Everything was so unfair! She crawled and screamed herself sore and bloody and still, there she was. Stuck. Stuck with two sons and a torn apart soul.

And Caleb hugged her. What else can a little boy do?

“It’s okay mama.”

Caleb had always said that, not really knowing if it really was or not.

“It’s going to be like the fairytales one day. Nothing bad, just happily ever after forever.”

“Is it?”

The memory of her face was blurry to Caleb. just a smudged face, blonde hair and a pair of blue eyes.

"With a far off kingdom and everything?”

“Yeah, I will make sure.”

“Caleb?” Philip shook him gently.

“Huh? Mh? Sorry–” He rubbed his eyes. “Sorry… I’m just tired.”

Philip looked his brother up and down. “I’m buying medicine.”

“No.” Caleb grabbed his brother’s sleeve. “No.. It is too expensive. I know it is. Even if we took from the fund. Just…”

And he looked into Philip’s worry-filled blue eyes, and sighed.

“I will stay home today. Mh? How about it?”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely. Tell them on your way to work– But please downplay it a little, for my sake? I don’t want them to think I’m a sissy.”

Philip wobbled his head back and forth. “You are sick. Not a sissy.”

“Men like me needs to be tougher than illness.”

“That is so dumb.”

“Well, I am dumb–”

“Stop that!” He chided. “You’re not dumb! You’re just– You– You aren’t dumb!”

“Does the truth offend you so much?”

“It isn’t the truth!” Philip huffs. “So stop it! You’re smarter than anyone else in this town– The town is dumb!”

“Now now, those are our neighbours. Be good.”

Philip replied by finishing his breakfast and taking his plate away, giving his brother a look of disagreement before gathering his logbook and papers into his satchel.

“Be good today.” Caleb calls without turning around.

“I’m always good. You be good.”

“I’m always good.”

“Stay home.” Philip said sternly and left. Peeking back inside quickly after. “I mean it! Rest!”

“I will..!” Caleb waved over his head.

Philip pouted, but left.

Caleb shook his head and caught himself in their little mirror on the wall. He really did not look well.

If you stood too much to the left, the mirror curved your face into a cresent. But it was one of those items that was considered luxury.

It was also one of those things Caleb had kept from their mother. So it didn't matter to him that it wasn’t a very good mirror, it was sentimental.

Besides, it was easy to shave in it - so long you kept to the right.

Caleb went upstairs, he was only going to take a small nap.

That was it.

No more.

Slumber hit him over the head and he fell to his pillow like timber.

His face was full of illness, his nose sore with snot and his skin dry. His eyes hurt, but not more than his head. Clammy, heavy, tired, Caleb took a few deep breathes and pulled the pillow close. Snuggling himself, licking his lips and gulped down the itchy feeling in his throat.

His thoughts were lukewarm milk, he tried to balance it to no avail. Giving up, they spilled over. His eyes fluttered shut and he drifted off much further into rest than he had intended.

Warm.

It was warm here.

Soft and quiet.

Like the moss in the forest.

Where he was truly free.

“Caleb..?”

“Mh..?” Caleb blinked. It was dark outside. “Huh..? What time is it?”

“I just got home.” Philip whispered and sat down by his side.

Caleb coughed and sat up groggily. A little confused and dry. His skin hurt with, his lungs hurt. He was so sweaty and droopy.

“Here.”

Caleb looked at the bottle of medicine in Philip’s hands.

“...Philip.”

“I got it cheaply.”

“How…?”

“Because I told the doctor you were really ill.”

“If doctors lowered their prices for ill people, they would go out of business.”

Philip grunted. “Would you please just take some?”

Caleb took the bottle and looked at the label. It told him nothing. He could identify an A and a C on it. “What is it?”

“For fevers.”

“I don’t have a fever.”

Philip sighed. “You do now.” And gently pressed his hand at his brother’s cheek.

Caleb pushed his hand away.

“Caleb, please let me care for you.”

Caleb frowned. He opened the bottle and sniffed at the liquid and scrunched together at the foul smell.

“Oh– God– What’s it made out of?”

“I don’t know.”

Caleb turned to his brother to chide him, but Philip looked so anxious.

“Please Caleb? It's medicine.”

Caleb sighed, looked at the bottle and gave in with a stubborn shrug.

“How much of it?”

“Um..” Philip took it to read on the instruction. “Uh.. About… Let's say two spoons?”

“Alright…” And Caleb drank.

Sticking out his tongue and the dry and sour taste. He licked the roof of his mouth.

“That’s disgusting. Like drinking onions.”

Philip smiled, glad Caleb had some medicine.

“That’s how you know! The bad taste kills the illness!” Philip held up a sock. “I have a stinky sock, too, you can wrap it around your neck. The stench will penetrate your skin and get rid of your cough.”

Caleb eyed the stocking.

“The medicine was enough. Thank you.”

Philip pouted. “It’s science.”

“Did the doctor tell you that?”

“No… I asked Louisa Fisherman by the harbour. She said it worked.”

Caleb grimaced, the only be who was supposed to be informed was Karl.

“She sells fish.” Caleb reminded him. “Maybe it’s eating the fish that helped, not the sock.”

Philip rolled his eyes and put the sock on the night stand.

“I’ll leave it here, if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

“Do you want me to read a little for you?”

Caleb softened. “Depends, what do you wish to read?”

“You’re sick, you get to choose.”

“The bible would be nice.”

Philip sighed.

“You asked!”

“Alright, alright. The bible then.”

“David and Goliath.”

“I don’t even need the scripture for that, I know it by now. So do you! Can’t we read something else?”

“I like David and Goliath.” Caleb pushed his lip out and blinked up at his baby brother with big, brown, puppy eyes. “And I am sick~!”

Annoyed, Philip sighed through his smile. He walked right into that one. “Very well…”

“From the book, please.”

“I don’t need it.”

But nobody who can read a book, looks upon a book the way someone who cannot. And Philip watched his brother’s demeanour sink with his head into the pillow.

“Okay…”

Philip’s chest clenched. “Ugh, fine, I’m getting the bible.”

And Caleb, pleased, cuddled at his bed.

As he was getting the bible, he heard Caleb cough again and prayed quietly to himself that the medicine would work.

Otherwise, he stole it for no reason.

When Philip returned, Caleb was already drifting off. His brother sniffled, sore and ill. Philip climbed into his brother’s bed and snuggled, hoping his body-heat would help him.

Caleb smiled and moved an arm in under Philip’s neck.

“Ready?” Philip asked and opened the bible.

Caleb closed his eyes and nodded. Philip could tell Caleb wouldn’t last until the end of the story. But he told it anyway.

Philip watch his brother nod off almost right away. Blew out the candle and removed his clothes until he was in just breechers and undershirt, climbed in under the blanket and looked at his brother’s sleeping face.

He was so pale and gaunt. Had it not been for the moving chest and the little noises he made, he would've been mistaken for a malnurished corpse.

Philip hadn't thought about it until just now, in the light of the moon in the dark of the room. But Caleb didn't look very healthy. It was pretty obvious, now that he took an actual look at him, and saw how the shadows drew across his face.. That Caleb needed more than medicine. But that's not something Philip could get his hands on quickly.

Perhaps tomorrow he would go into the basement and bring up all the perserved pork and beef they had, make anything out of it. They had potatoes, too. Caleb needed something thick and filling, warm and smooth. Like a stew. Not that pathetic cabbage soup. Philip would have to find a way to trick Caleb into eating more butter... There was no way Caleb would eat nore than Philip. That's just how it was. Caleb was so concerned with keeping Philip's health stable and well, neglecting himself in the process. Philip would have liked it if they were both half-fed, rather than just one being full and the other not. But Caleb was stubborn.

Caleb coughed in his sleep.

Philip cuddled to his brother, hoping it would help. That his presence alone might help.

But if it existed, Philip supposed, that some divine presences wasn't exactly unwelcome.

He prayed quietly to God for Caleb to be okay.

Philip watched Caleb lay still next to him, his chest slowly rising but only barely. He placed a hand carefully upon it to feel his heartbeat.

it was there.

Only then could Philip close his eyes.

"Don't worry Eb-Eb.." Philip whispered as quietly as he could. "Even if you don't want me to, I'll help you. Someway."

The two brothers slept.

Caleb woke by the sound of knocking.

He pinched sleep out of his eyes and didn’t feel any better than yesterday. In fact, he felt kind of hot and feverish. His skin felt like peeled fish-scales fresh on the cuttingboard.

The repeating thud from downstairs had him get out of bed and slip into a pair of boots.

Philip slept, snoring through his nose.

Caleb went downstairs. Through the murky windows he spied the early morning sky and the colours of people outside. He arched his brows, wondering what on earth was going on.

“Uh… Good morning?” Caleb's voice croaked like pest itself tried to claw out of him. He coughed the flem away and stroked his hand at his eye, blinking to wake up and be presentable. “What’s the matter?”

“Is your brother home, Caleb?”

Caleb hesitated, now wide awake and alert. His eyes jumped from one person to the other and identified them as people he both knew and had worked with.

A constable, one of Gravesfield’s doctors, and Karl.

“What is this about?”

“Theft.” Said the constable.

“Pardon?”

“Theft. We have an eyewitness that says your brother stole from the doctor here.”

Caleb looked between the men. He shook his head, hoping it was a nightmare he could wake up from.

“What- What did he steal?”

“Medicine.” Said the doctor, looking Caleb up and down like he was evidence enough.

On cue, because God and all the angels hated him, Caleb coughed. He curled a fist against his lips to stifle the attack of coughs.

“Excuse me–” He managed and swallowed after another cough.

It was either the stress or the fever, but pearls of sweat trickled down his forehead.

“Could I– um, have a moment with my brother? Just a minute.” He was saying it more to Karl than the other two, as Karl would be more willing to allow it.

“A minute.” Karl said and Caleb bowed his head gratefully, closing the door and went upstairs.

Philip was sleeping like a little angel.

Caleb glared down at him like a wolf about to jump on a faun. He resisted the urge to shake him violently.

Caleb grabbed the bible and kicked the side of the bed, Philip startled awake.

“Wha- What? what?” Said Philip and sat up, with a sudden bible plonked down on his head. “OW-!”

“WHAT. WERE. YOU THINKING?!?”

“Huh?!” Philip rubbed his head and shrunk in the gaze of his fuming brother. “What? What did I do?”

“YOU STOLE IT?!” Caleb grabbed the bottle so roughly the cap fell off it. “MH?!? DID YOU?”

Philip sat there in Caleb’s bed like a surprised sardine, wide-eyed and gaping, and did the classic mistake of saying “Um-!” As his gaze shifted away.

Caleb hoisted him roughly out of bed by the arm. Philip couldn’t find his footing right away and rag-dolled downwards.

The oldest Wittebane held the younger with an iron grip. Philip barely had to use his own strength to stand.

“Ow-! Caleb!”

“Do you have ANY idea what you have done?!”

“I’m sorry! But– You were- are sick!”

“That does not excuse theft!” Caleb snarled, the room trembled with his voice. “How could you?!” Caleb pointed to the stairs. “There is a constable out there for your arrest!”

Philip froze and Caleb clapped him over the back of his head.

“Idiot!”

“Hey-! Hey, they have no evidence–”

“They have a witness.” Caleb let him go. “You– You stupid, stupid, boy.”

Philip looked down at the floor. “You have stolen before..”

Caleb inhaled sharply. “But I didn’t get CAUGHT, did I? And you shan’t steal! Do as I say, not as I do!”

He raised his hand again to give him another clap over the head, but upon seeing Philip's expression, he instead curled his hand in and let his fist rest against his own forehead, thunking it against his cranium to try calm down and get better thoughts in there. But no good thoughts came. He knew himself enough to know that his anger was clouding him, and he had to get it out. But not on Pip. He had already been rough with him, and the guilt was settling in.

Caleb turned to the heavy cedarwood bed, and kicked it so hard it moved from its spot.

Philip winced and watched his brother turn his anger against the furniture. He wanted to disappear, to turn into a mouse and slip away through the floorboards.

“Okay… Okay.. Okay! Okay.” Caleb breathed and put his hands together. “Alright. Okay.”

“Caleb–”

“You shut up. I am thinking.”

“Sorry..”

“I cannot believe you put your reputation at stake like this. You are tossing it all down the river!”

Philip sighed, mumbling. “Whatever.. It’s just petty theft. At worst, they’ll put me in the stock.”

Caleb’s whole world toppled over.

In his minds eye, he saw Philip pull the cloth of a fine-dined table, everything falling down in loud bangs and scattering down on cold stone floors, a platter rolling away and dancing in a circle until it lay flat in the silence that followed. He saw his brother, hands on hips, cloth in hand, shrugging. Like it hadn't been Caleb's life work he just toppled over.

Sometimes Caleb forgot that Philip didn't live the same life as he did. They didn't have the same upbringing. Philip had Caleb, who looked after him, Philip had known nothing else than the security Caleb provided him. While Caleb had nobody but himself, and the comfort that Philip believed in the lie of who he was: Caleb Wittebane, The golden guard of Gravesfield. His big brother, like all the heros in the tales, always found a way out of trouble. Always found a way to do the right thing.

But that's not who Caleb was.

He was a stupid young man who played charades and make-believe. People believe you, if you pretend long enough. If you treat your problems like a game, and you have a role to play where you are supposed to win, things generally worked out. Generally.

Caleb got pale, his chest burned with illness and fear.

“The stock.” Caleb repeated, his clammy skin going cold.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal. I can handle it. I know the law well enough now that–” Caleb smacked him again. “Hey! Ow! Stop that! Why are you hitting me?!”

“You are so spoiled.” Caleb grunted. “What did I do wrong for you to turn out like this?”

Philip frowned. “I– You haven’t! I think you raised me well!”

“Obviously not!” Caleb gestured at the entirety of his brother, watching Philip’s heart break as his brother thought less of him. And just like that, Caleb’s anger snuffed out. “Okay, Philip… We have to go down there and apologise.”

“I’m not apologising.”

“Yes, you are! If you are at all sorry for what you’ve done–”

“I’m not, I did it to help you.”

“Well, then, apologise for my sake. Please? If you sit in the stocks and people recognise you, you might lose your apprenticeship.”

“So? I can get another.”

Caleb inhaled sharply. The apprenticeship Philip had, he had because Caleb had pulled some strings and did some favours.

But Philip didn't know that, and he didn't want to guilt him either.

“Not with the reputation of a thief! God, Pip… It is not that simple. This apprenticeship is perfect for you. It's teaching you how to do accounting, it lets you work with people and lord above you need exposure for that. There's so many benefits for you there. Don't be so hasty to throw it all away because you are too proud to say sorry.”

Philip grumbled and crossed his arms.

"But I didn't do anything wrong... He's a doctor, he shouldn't have such high prices on medicine. Especially with the state you're in."

Caleb sighed. Malnurished and sick with whatever this thing was, was undoubetdly a terrible combination. He looked like death was patiently waiting.

"Well, it's the world we live in. Don't be proud, say sorry, beg on your knees if you have to. Offer to do labour for the doctor - you know we could always spin this into a positive if you suck-up to him."

Philip grimaced with disgust. "I am not sorry."

"Okay. That's fine. But lie, please, and pretend you are."

Philip grumbled. “Fine..”

“Thank you.”

The brothers came downstairs to meet the men outside.

“I’m sorry for the wait.” Caleb addressed and Karl lift an assuring hand. “Here’s the medicine he took. And.. He has something to say, don’t you, Pip?”

Philip rolled his eyes and Caleb elbowed him.

“Ugh, I’m sorry I stole the medicine.”

Caleb closed his eyes, trying to breathe through his nose, but it only caused him to sniffle. His idiot brother was going to get a whole day in the stocks if this was the attitude he was going to go with.

The doctor examined the medicine. “You’ve had some of it.”

“Yes.” Caleb admitted and received a bump from Philip. “Hey–”

“No he haven’t.” Philip crossed his arms and tilted his chin up.

Caleb slowly turned his wide eyes at Philip, what the bleeding hellfire was he doing?!

“You have no evidence for that.” Said Philip, and couldn't resist a small smirk.

“We know you stole it.” Said the constable.

“I did.” Philip admitted, knowing they had a witness. “But Caleb had none of it. It was half full when I took it.”

“Certainly not!” Scoffed the doctor, not believing the audacity of this boy. Neither did Caleb.

Philip's smirk went broad. “If he had any of it, wouldn’t he be better by now? Mh? Look at him.”

Philip gestured at the state of Caleb, who looked as ill as a moulting seagull coughing out pest into its wing.

“He’s worse today than yesterday. Are you saying that your medicine doesn’t work and, by proxy, you are admitting to be a quack?”

“Excuse me.” Caleb grabbed Philip by the shirt and pulled him aside. “Philip–”

“Caleb.” Philip whispered back. “Let me handle it. You don’t know the system like I do.”

“And you don’t know the people like I do.”

Philip smiled and patted Caleb on the hand. “People are easy, as long as you know the rules.”

Caleb blinked. Without looking, Philip had grown a separate life without him; a whole person with his own genre of slyness.

It made him hesitate. Philip did know the law better than him, but Caleb trusted his heart more than his head. In his experience, the law could always nudge a bit to the left if it liked you as a person.

“Trust me.” Philip appealed to Caleb's big brother heart. “Please? Let me prove to you that I can help.”

“Caleb.” Said Karl and Caleb turned, giving him a polite smile.

“Sorry! Ah… Listen, my fellows. My brother is a good kid. You know this. He did this out of desperation for my sake. He was scared.” He gestured at the bottle. “I had some. I did, I am very sorry. We will pay you back–”

“I doubt you can afford it.” Said the doctor, but Philip’s words had struck a cord with him. Caleb did not, in fact, look any better. “...I much rather he just get punished.”

“No, please, he is a first offender. What would the punishment even be?”

The constable stroked his sideburns thoughtfully.

“He is fourteen, correct?”

"Yes."

The constable was considering what Caleb just said; Philip was a good kid, this was his first offense. He also knew something like this would hurt Philip's reputation, but the boy had attitude, and had committed theft. The only thing that made Philip look good right about now was Caleb's word. And you could only trust somebody's word if they had a reputation to back it up.

But it was that smug glint in Philip's eyes, and the need for justice, that made the constable sigh and dish out an appropriate punishment anyway.

“I would say a day in the stocks, but because he is giving attitude, I’d say a day and night would do him good.”

Caleb swallowed. 24 hours of his brother in public display as a criminal. Philip was clearly too young and immature to understand the consequences of what this kind of humiliation would mean.

The constable was, however, right. Philip could really do with a dose of shame. But not at the expense of his future and his reputation.

“Sure.” Said Philip with a shrug.

And Caleb imagined Philip sitting there with his feet bound in wood. Like he was some kinda martyr for having committed theft for some honourable cause. That pride of Philip's would bite him severely one day.

Caleb could not have that.

Not an inch of it.

“I… I made him.” Caleb said quickly.

Now it was Philip’s turn to turn big eyes at his brother. "What?!"

“He only did it because I told him to.”

“He did NOT–” Phillip tried, and Caleb took him by the scruff of his shirt. “Caleb!” He growled, and Caleb growled back.

“Philip, shut. up.”

“You are lying to them!”

Snarling, Caleb shoved his brother towars their small veranda, Philip nearly tripped over the sticks and pots that stood by the steps.

“Another word from you Pip and I lock you into the house.” Caleb dragged a hand through his hair, composed himself, and turned back to the men. “Gentlemen, this all my fault, really.”

The constable and Karl share a look of disbelief. The doctor crossed his arms.

“Caleb, my lad..” Karl stroked his beard. “I understand you want to protect him but...”

“My brother has a problem with his attitude. I absolutely agree, he should have some punishment and I wish the stocks would bring some well-deserved shame into him. I fear he is not the sort, though. However, if I took his place and he could see what the consequences would cause for the people he cares for… I am confident, and may God know it, he would never repeat the offence.”

The constable looked over at Philip, who looked horrified at Caleb’s suggestion.

“No!” Philip protested.

Which only amplified Caleb’s sentiment. All snark and poise had left the boy, and the terror of losing his brother filled the youngest Wittebane’s eyes with dread.

“No! I did it! I did it alone! I will do it! I can– I will sit in the stocks!”

Caleb ignored his pleas and Philip tugging on his shirt. Philip was small now, just a child amongst adults who ignored him.

“Listen to me!” Philip demanded and saw how the adults exchanged looks he couldn't decipher.

He was drowning in ignorance. There was some kind of understanding between the men, a language he didn't possess yet - because he was a stupid, small, child.

“Constable,” said Karl. “I think Caleb is right. I know the boys. And in my experience, and I have a lot of it, there’s no risk of young Wittebane becoming a crook if he gets to keep his reputation. And, after all, it is Caleb’s responsibility to ensure Philip would not do such a thing. His failings caused this.”

That stung to hear, Caleb had to admit. But was glad that Karl both bought his point of view and loaded extra kindle to his fire as well.

The constable and Karl were friends, and Karl was only here because he knew most of the repeat offenders in town. So the constable took his word for it - just as Caleb had hoped.

“Very well, Mister Caleb Wittebane, I arrest you for petty theft.”

“NO!” Philip clung his arms around his brother's arm. “No you can’t! That’s not the law!”

“You may get properly dressed, first.” Said the constable.

“Thank you.” Caleb sighed and pushed his brother towards the house.

“Caleb please! You can’t agree with this! Let's take it to court! I will get a minister to represent you and–”

But that meant even more public attention.

Caleb got dressed in his room and, before he came back down, had another coughing fit.

“Stop!” Philip pleaded, getting in Caleb's way, his voice breaking now. “You can’t! You’re sick! I'm sorry, alright? I am! I don't want you to get sicker-!”

Behind him, the doctor scoffed. “You should have thought about that before you stole from me.”

Philip glared at the doctor with as much hatred his little body could muster.

Caleb patted him on the head.

“Be good, Pip.”

Philip looked up at Caleb’s tired smile, and sniffled. So this was really happening then? His brother would be torn away from him.

“Caleb–”

“I will be back.” Caleb said, ruffling his head. “Okay? And do not visit me.”

“But–”

“Do not. Do as you are told.”

Philip was quiet, sniffling. He only nodded.

“Good.”

Caleb did not want Philip to see him because then people would associate them. Sure, the community knew they were brothers, but Philip would for sure cause a scene and that was unnecessary attention.

Philip watched Caleb leave with the men.

He watched his brother disappear down the road, leaving Philip with a maelstrom pit in his chest.

And swore to himself he would never get caught again. Never again would he leave a witness or a trace of his deeds. He would become good- no, great, at getting away with his actions.

His tears were hot.

And he slammed the door to the cabin shut.

The door had a blue-ish hue.

The grain pattern of the middle of the door was in the shape of a large eye.

And the cursed house blinked.

Chapter Text

You would be forgiven if you thought the sniffling bundle outside the church by the stocks was a sick blonde dog wrapped in a tarp, and not Caleb Wittebane in his dusty blue coat.

A broken scarecrow, came to mind to those who passed him by.

His eyes were sore, his throat dry, his nose was pink, and you could hear by the sound of him that his entire face was clogged up with snot and ailment.

Caleb had to admit, this was a new kind of low. Not the lowest he had ever seen himself, but absolutely a kind of low that would haunt him at some future six am and make him cringe with embarrassment.

It was not a look, not at all.

For a woodsman, Caleb was rather vain. He liked to brush his hair, he liked to keep his teeth clean and took the time to rinse his nails. A gentleman had once told him that real men kept themselves tip-top, and Caleb internalised that as a standard. 

Regardless of how other people would roll their eyes at him for even attempting to be posh, Caleb did enjoy the charade of gentryhood. That was the only charade he actually enjoyed.

When Caleb first arrived in Gravesfield with Philip, he had found work as a scullery boy in one of Uptown Gravesfield's nicer farms. Every day he had to return to Downtown to fetch Philip from school that his church provided, and there was barely time for that with a busy job as the scullery.

Uptown Gravesfield lay across the river, you had to go through the covered bridge that linked the two parts together.

The scullary job was too far from their home in Downtown, too. He had no money for a baby sitter, not enough to pay rent for a shack closer to the farm. And so, he lost the job. Thankfully, he got a reference he could give a farmer in Downtown, where he did chores and labour. And even luckier than that, a shack to stay in near the chicken coops.

If Caleb had a different life, perhaps he would have been a footman by now. Serving the gentry, and wear an impressive suit with polished buttons. Wouldn’t that have been a charmed life?

In his dreams, he could imagine velvet curtains framing large windows. For some reason, it was almost always Christmastime in his fantasy. The halls would be decked, the scent of pine and cinnamon would follow him as he walked through clean wide hallways. Sunlight would paint the white wallpaper gold.

Maybe he would be hanging up mistletoes, maybe a cute maid would steal a peck on his cheek, and perhaps the cook would sneak him pieces of bacon for a favour.

His dreams were always merry, and warm.

That’s the kind of fun Caleb had in his head, imagining a life of polishing someone else's silver. Because it was not in his stars to have any of that for himself. And he was content with simply being present, even if it was in such a low esteemed position as a servant. Though, it wasn't as low as his current position.

He would have been good at it, he would comfort himself sometimes.

Caleb was not a gentleman, you had to be born into that sort of thing. Not that it stopped the oldest Wittebane from at least incorporating the lifestyle in any way he could. Why? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps for the same reason you did anything: It was fun.

But right now, Caleb was not having fun.

His sleeve was stained wet from having stroked his nose for the eleventh time now. It just wouldn't stop running. Even his eyes were wet and baggy. Bitterly, he muttered and tried to make himself comfortable on the slab of stone he was seated on.

The stock was a cleverly placed punishment.

You sat upon this slab of stone, with your legs out towards the bounds around your feet; which were made up of two wooden planks clamped down around your ankles. The wood was inserted between two tall rocks. So you were pretty stuck.

But this was not the ingenuity of the punishment, no. The true genius came to the seat itself and its placement.

The stock was placed near the entryway of the church, so that anyone who were going by there could see him. It didn't matter that he had taken the seat nearest the nook of the building, in an attempt to shield himself from anybody walking by the church on the left side. If they came close enough, they would see him anyway.

But the humiliation did not stop there.

The seat itself was placed by the wall, but no person (or child) were tall enough to comfortably sit all the way in and use the church wall as back-support. No. Caleb, who was an average height man, had to sit on the edge of the slab. Meaning that when he leaned back, it was only his neck and shoulders that could get any rest, leaving him slouching indignantly.

This was to force the person to sit in the most comfortable position, which was straight. For hours. With your legs out and bored out of your mind, so you would have to resort to contemplating your crime to entertain yourself.

In autumn, any surface of rock is cold. The winds were chilly, and the skies above were kissing with the injustice of possible rain.

And ontop of it all, his body was begining to concave in on itself with illness.

He coughed.

Long story short: Caleb Wittebane was having a terrible day.

He wriggled his foot experimentally and sniffled. Watching the wood wiggle just a smidge under his movement. He tried to get comfortable, but his back hurt. He was grateful he had the foresight to seat himself to the furthest left to avoid most wind. He may not be able to lean back, but he could lean to the small wall to his left. Pressing himself into the tiny corner as best he could.

Caleb tucked his hands in under his armpits and cursed that he hadn’t thought of gloves and a scarf. A hat.

The white-painted little wooden slate he was wearing around his neck with red letters on it taunted him. He didn't have to be able to read to know what it said. Caleb was aware it was announcing that he was a thief, in capital letters.

Caleb closed his eyes, trying to get a bit of sleep while he could. His head felt like butter. He coughed and sniffled.

“Ugh..”

SPLAT!

The mud hit him on the ear and his hair. He jolted awake and stared down at two children that were giggling, both bent down to get more mud.

“Hey!” He growled, “Cut that out!”

“Thief!” Called the boy and Caleb opened his mouth to scold but had to abandon it in favour of trying to duck away from the next flying mud-pie as best he could.

“Stop that!” He hissed.

“You should’ve thought of that before you became a thief!” Laughed the girl and was winding her hand back to fling soil at him.

“I know thy father!” Caleb called, and the girl dropped her mud in a gasp. “I will have him know this is how you entertain yourself!”

The boy scoffed. “Don’t worry, Annabelle, he’s a crook. It’s allowed.”

“But-”

“It’s okay.” Said the boy and threw his mud, hitting Caleb on the shoulder. It splattered, and he squeezed his eyes shut at the impact. He felt some of it sail in under his collar.

“Eugh..” Caleb wiped it off, giving the children a glare. The boy came up to him and gave his boot a light kick. “..Having fun, are we, lad.”

“Yeah.” Said the boy with the girl behind him. “You look so stupid.”

“I rather look stupid like this than whatever you got going on with your ugly mug.”

“Says you, hawk-face!”

“You refer to my nose. Very observant of you. Now, if you want to put someone down, you ought to chose something not so prominent and obvious. A person may not be as insecure as you believe. My advice for you is to go for something more subtle.” He gestured at the boy. “Like your tiny hands and girly shoulders. Goodness, you must be mistaken for your sister every day with your curly hair and pouty lips.”

The boy turned red, the girl's snort gave clue that he had been somewhat accurate, and Caleb grinned with satisfaction.

He had, however, forgotten he did not have the upper hand.

The boy pulled off his boot.

“No! No!” Caleb reached forward, alarmed. But could do nothing from where he was seated. The boy put the boot on top of the stock where Caleb couldn't reach. He grimaced. The boy smiled victoriously and stuck his tongue out.

“Let's go Annabelle.” The boy gruffed. Annabelle lingered, she took the boot and threw it to Caleb before following her brother.

Caleb was grateful to at least have his boot secured in his arms. Though he had wished it had remained on his foot. He gestured helplessly at all the warmth that escaped him and sighed.

“Lord, must you hate me?” Caleb whispered. “I am trying to be better, a small break would be kind. Just a small, itty bitty little nice thing. Mh? How about it, God?”

Caleb looked up at the gray skies. His hand flapped out like Hello? Up there? Anybody?

“No? Nothing? No earthly angels for me, then?” He sighed.

You should be careful what you wish for.

“Caleb?” Said the deep and beautiful voice of Nashoba.

Caleb scratched his prayer out with ferocity and replaced it with a begging for lightning to end him then and there.

“Nashoba! Hellu ‘ellu!” Caleb tried as merrily as he could. “Good morning!”

“Is it?” Nashoba looked at the state of his friend.

“Er, I have seen better mornings. Admittedly.” Caleb chuckled nervously, trying to shrink into his coat.

“What happened?” Nashoba read the sign on Caleb’s chest. “Oh, Caleb… What trouble have you got yourself into this time?”

Yep, this was it. Caleb could die now. The gates of hell could open beneath his ass and swallow him whole. He would welcome it, and thank Satan for the mercy.

Nashoba’s brass earrings shimmered in the morning sun, and his mohawk lay neatly upon his head with the feathers. Caleb could barely gaze at Nashoba's handsome features, or his kind dark eyes. The Englishman could glimpse into those eyes and see a universe of inspiration. Nashoba found his way into almost all of Caleb's stories.

But right now, Caleb couldn’t stand the sight of him and the tender pity he was giving him.

“I know, I know.. It was medicine.” Caleb coughed, which led to a series of stifled coughs he was desperately trying to choke down.

“Doesn't seem to have worked very well.” Nashoba said softly and came over to his friend. “Allow me.” He took the boot from him.

“Oh! No, Nashoba, no, you don’t have to do that–”

“Of course I do.” Nashoba walked around the stock, and Caleb hoped his blush could be mistaken for his fever. “You are my friend.” And with some struggle managed to weasel the boot back on and through the hole. “There.”

“Thank you...” The butter in Caleb’s head was melting. He sweated and swallowed.

“You really do not look well, my friend.”

“Ah, I’m alright.” Caleb laughed. “Just a little– A little fever! Haha!”

Nashoba leaned on the wood. “Can I help you somehow?”

“No! No, goodness, no. Nashoba, please, I’m mortified enough.”

“How long will you remain in this punishment?”

“Another hour.” He lied. He had only been there for two hours. Caleb was going to remain for the day and the night. “I will be fine.”

Nashoba tilted his head sadly. “If the rain comes before the hour is over, I shall return with something to shield you with.”

Caleb was flashed with an image of huddling under a moccasin blanket with Nashoba. His blush deepened, and the older man smiled at him.

“That– That’s alright… I doubt your wife would want you to waste good covers on the English.”

Nashoba chuckled. “Nothing is wasted on a friend. She knows of you.”

Which meant Nashoba had spoken of him.

“O-Oh? Oh. Well, then. Um– Well, only if the rain comes before then. But I doubt it~! I bet it will come later this afternoon or tonight.”

Nashoba turned up to the skies. “You think so?”

“Almost certainly.” Caleb pointed upwards. “The clouds are dark, but not low enough to indicate the rain is coming soon. But they are fluffy, so the weather is unstable. I would chance it to come tonight, lest the winds blow strong. But they do not appear to move very quickly.”

Nashoba held his hand out. “It is windy.”

“By the ground, yes, but if you look at the tree tops they are not rustling as much. And it is these streets that funnel the winds, I bet in the forest it will be calm.”

Nashoba smiled at him. “You are well versed in weather. Like my father.”

“Oh, uh, well, heh. My brother reads a lot about everything, and he told me about it. I’m good at remembering things, though! I rarely forget a detail.”

“Noted.” Nashoba patted the stocks. “Are you hungry, I can get you something?”

“No, thank you.” He was hungry but didn’t want to bother his crush, of all people. “Like I said, it’s only an hour more.”

Besides, maybe he deserved to be hungry. Maybe God wanted him to get sicker and this was how he was going to go out. Perhaps his death would cause Philip to take up on the career path to become a doctor, as Caleb hoped. Wouldn’t that be a nice thing…? If his death could mean that people could be saved in the future, when he had robbed people in the past of theirs.

Nashoba nodded at his wood-bound friend.

“If you are mistaken about the rain, I shall return.” But didn’t leave just yet. “And I hope next time we meet, that fever of yours has left you.”

“I will be alright.” Caleb assured. “Misfortune and I are well acquainted, I always find a way through.”

“As you do.” Nashoba’s dimple smile warmed Caleb more than the sun.

“As I do.” Caleb shyly returned. “Begone now, friend, you are not here in this part of town for leisure, I am sure.”

“I have errands, yes.” Nashoba patted Caleb’s wooden prison. “Be well, friend.”

“And unto you as well.”

And they bid farewell.

Caleb watched Nashoba leave, and the Pequot Mohegan man took all the light of the world with him. Caleb stroked his hands to get warmth back into them. It was going to be a long day.

And a long day it was. Hours passed.

Here and there, people slowed down to peek or jeer at him. Some insults were thrown his way. And the children that found delight in teasing him from afar. He was memorising those children, for whatever future he could imagine where he could deny them the privilege of his kindness. But that was just him being bitter, he supposed.

And embarrassed.

God, it was so embarrassing to sit there and be gawked at, and worst of it was when they recognised him and he heard them say his name. Then he began to notice the looks in their eyes: Disappointment.

Like they had half-expected him to be caught for something like this someday, and shook their heads at being proven right.

The golden guard was not so golden after all. Just a dumb nickname for a young man who pretended to be a gentleman, but look at him now! Look how the mighty have fallen. Oh, hubris, just like it took Iccarus from the skies, nobody was winning bets on Caleb soaring any higher either.

It was ingrained into everyone of Downtown's mind, by culture and church and superior: Remember, you are nothing. Be grateful, always, for whatever the world toss aside for you to feast on. And Caleb knew his brand of feast would never be those merry decked halls in his fatasies, of mistletoes and minced ham pies. His feast was on his knees, clawing into the mud for lost rings to pawn off so he could get new shoes for Philip.

He curled into his coat, trying to stay warm and hidden. Not that it actually helped.

His butt was beginning to feel the bite of the stone, too. It was uncomfortable. And his knees were beginning to hurt from being forced straight out like this.

Slowly, Caleb made his way forward and off the stone. Knees bent up and his butt to the ground, he scooted closer to the stock and laid down with the stone right above his head. It was cold anyway, at least like this he would be less seen and both his bottom and back would hurt less.

The skies above had become greyer, and he got lost in his fantasies.

He thought about funny animals, fables.

A fox girl coming out of her den in a green little dress and a shawl on her head. Dusting herself off as she skipped through the forest. She met a hare, with long black ears and a moccasin vest, and the vixen asked the hare; Oh mister Hare! Has thou seen mister Wolf today? I know you are kindred. To which the hare had answered; Yes I have, mister Wolf is by the big oak tree, he is looking at the sky. And so the vixen made her way to the oak tree.

Caleb smiled as the story played out before his mind's eye, the clouds taking shape and animated it all before him.

“Wittebane.” Said mister Hopkins, and Caleb blinked up at the older man and his icy blue eyes and gentle smile.

Caleb saw Hopkins’ eyes travel to the scarlet letters on his sign, and watched the smile vanish from the gentleman.

“Oh, Wittebane. I would never have pinned you to be the sort.”

“Uh– Oh– Um– It was medicine.” Caleb’s voice was scraggly with sickness, and Hopkins blinked at the sight of him.

“Did you have some of it?”

“I did.”

Hopkins smiled with scrutiny. “Can’t have been very good medicine. By the looks of you.”

Caleb sighed and gestured to the threatening skies above. “Or it is God’s will that it did not work.” And coughed.

“Perhaps.”

Hopkins took a seat on the stone, looking down at Caleb with a silence that begged to be filled. Caleb curled in his lips and glanced carefully at his superior.

“Um-” Caleb started and Hopkins immediately cut him off.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“O-Oh? Why?”

“I have been sniffing out a new witch in town. There is mayhem afoot.”

Caleb’s shoulders rose to his ears. “Is that so?”

“Yes, a female one this time I think. As there have been whispers to me that she might be doing something onto herself that makes her.. Irresistible to other women’s husbands.” He looked humoured by that. “And I must admit I have missed your presence in our investigations. You do always provide such impressive... intuitions.”

And then there was that silence again, and Hopkins eyes stared into him like two icicles.

“I- Uh, have been busy.”

“Indeed.” Hopkins looked at the stock that imprisoned Caleb’s ankles. “Hopefully not with more criminal things.”

“No! no-no, of course not. I have been doing extra work in the woods, is all! And– Philip, you know my brother, I try to be more home. Present. He's growing and I think he needs more structure now! Teens, you know, haha..! They need a good smack over the head now and then, to keep in line, you know. Gotta keep them from being idle and getting ideas. And nothing makes a teen more idle than not knowing what to do with all that newfound brain power..! It's difficult, for him, to pick a career. He's a little lost in fantastical what-ifs rather than the reality of what-is."

Hopkin's face remained void of anything warm. And Caleb gulped.

"And I must tell you, Mr. Hopkins, sir! You should see the stacks of books he reads! Complicated things, too! About nature, medicine, philosophy - He is such a good boy, determined, hard working, clever as a devil- NotLiterallyThough! Keep a keen eye on him, won't you? He will blow us all away some day! I know it. You know, he could be a dentist~! Eh? Don't you think we need a dentist in Downtown? Mh? Now that's someone you'd like to keep in your good graces when you're old and losing every ivory in your mouth. So, um.. If you ever, Oh I don't know, in your high circles of life; see or hear anything that could help him along, I would.. uh.. really.. appreciate... it.”

Caleb curled in his lips to shut up, and drummed his fingers on his cold chest.

Hopkins put his hands together and leaned on his knees, casting a shadow over Caleb.

Caleb watched Hopkins clean his nails before turning to him again.

“Is it a money issue, that keeps you from hunting witches, then?”

“Er.. A bit. But we manage.”

“Clearly.” Hopkins looked at the stock, and Caleb wanted to merge with the ground and suffocate. 

“It’s just that– He’s in an age, now, you know? I want to be more home, present, bond with him and get to know the man he’s growing into.”

“I see.” Hopkins smiled softly. “You care deeply for him, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“For a half-wit, you are a very decent person.”

Caleb turned his gaze down to his propped up knees. “...Thanks, sir.”

“You know, you could always just bring him along. He’s a proper age now, isn’t he?”

“That’s too dangerous.”

“Not with all of us around. Mister Burrow is bringing his sons next time.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes, and I believe the younger is in Philips age. Perhaps he could make some friends. Last I heard, he's a bit of a... weird loner, isn't he?”

"..Weird is a little harsh, I think.."

Caleb pondered, squirming. Philip needed friends, especially his own age. But he didn’t want it to be via witch hunting, but perhaps he was in the wrong? Witches were evidentially real; Evelyn was real. But not bad. And–

“And,” continued Hopkins. “I miss your intuition. You are very good at finding them when they try to run away.”

“I just know the woods, sir, Happy knows it just as well-”

“Landon Goodfellow is an idiot.” Hopkins sighed. “And like I said, you just have an intuition for witches that I recognise within myself. You could become a witch hunter general, someday.”

“Ahh... I think you think too highly of my skill, then, mister Hopkins, sir. Flattered as I am that you compare me to yourself, I am humbled, truly.” Caleb nervously grimaced a smile. “I am really just guessing where they’re going and–”

“Because you understand people.” Hopkins leaned down over him. “You know people here, probably more than their own families. I see you. I see how you observe and make note. I have paid close attention to how you speak of others, how you converse and steer people in ways you wish them to go.”

Hopkins winked, but Caleb didn't feel like it was a wink that invited confidence in him.

There was this other thing behind it, that Caleb didn’t dare to lift the curtain on and find out what it was.

Hopkins was right; Caleb was good at people. He liked people. And it had been useful in his deductions of whom a possible culprit could be. Caleb’s ears were pointy with keenness for gossip and drunken loose lips. He may not be political or bookish like Philip, but he knew when people were upset with one another. Sometimes, pettiness was reason enough to try to hex someone else to misfortune.

Caleb could recall when he connected the dots and made suggestions on whom the culprit could be. And more often than not, the suspect fit the bill. And was questioned, and confessed. But it was easy to fill out blanks between two dots. It was not only stones that could make a bridge, rubbish did the job just as well in a rush.

Hopkins tilted his head, like an eagle with a mouse between its claws, and kept his smile on his lips like it had been glued on there.

“You are talented.” Said Hopkins with butter that should have made someone like Caleb beg for more. But fortunately Caleb did get the ins and outs of people. And he was beginning to turn his mind's eye to Hopkins.

Lifting that curtain, with just an inch, to peek.

He was saying all the right things. Putting him down, with the half-wit comment, then trying to praise him to make him feel appreciated.

Caleb found himself feeling cornered, but dismissed the red flag - why would mister Hopkins have ulterior motives anyway? And so, he plastered a smile back to Hopkins.

“Thank you, sir.”

“It would be nice if you joined next time we investigate. And, I’m sure, it might make people feel a bit more forgiving towards you.” Hopkins knocked on the wooden prison for emphasis.

“I suppose..”

And that was true. And Caleb did care about that. Anything to get his good standing back, or at the very least: public forgiveness. The golden guard needed to mean something. Stand for something. It was a charade, after all, a role to play that Caleb could tailor carefully and with intent precission so that people would like him. If he were liked, people would forgive that he were a half-wit woodsman without prospect. And being seen as a medicine thief was like ripping a few buttons off on a coat: You could wear it but you'd look like a poor fool. He had to fix it.

“And I am confident your brother might enjoy watching you work, too. A good opportunity to bond, mh?”

“...I guess that’s a good idea.”

“Good. Because I must admit, again, I do miss having you along.”

“You.. do?”

Caleb could see hoofs under the curtain.

“Of course. The other fools only follow what I say, but you.. You have ideas. Good ones, I mean.” And rolled his eyes. “Landon Goodfellow, for example, isn’t exactly reliable. He is easily distracted, and he just doesn’t seem to understand that witchcraft is a creative weapon of choice. Magic… It can be conjured in all sorts of way. And you..” He tapped Caleb on the forehead, hard, once, making Caleb blink. “You seem to just get how they think.”

Caleb chuckled nervously.

“It has struck me, once or twice, that perhaps you know a little too well. But then I think, no, of course not. He wouldn’t be a hunter if he himself was a witch.”

Caleb’s spine froze to the ground.

Those were definitely hoofs under the curtain, and he dropped it. Too afraid to find out more.

Hopkins’ smile seemed to soften more, in the way a bird of prey did after devouring a poor rodent.

“So, I am glad to hear you will be joining in, next time. And, of course, if you wish; bring your dear brother along.”

“... Sir? I think you might put too much faith in my abilities. I am but a half-wit, you ought to not think so highly of my skill. My imagination is wild and vast. It’s hardly...  it’s just… creativity run amok.”

Hopkins laughed merrily, and Caleb nervously laughed with him.

“To be honest with you, Caleb, I just need someone like you who understands that sometimes we need a little… push.. For people to agree with us in the right direction.”

So Hopkins knew, this whole time, and had used it to push for captivity and a guilty plea? Hopkins had used his lies as truth in court.

Did Hopkins not know they were not real witches? What if he found out that Caleb knew? What then?  No, surely not. Hopkins must believe they are real witches who were about to get away, and he was desperate to frame them with anything just to make sure justice was served. This was Anthony Hopkins, the witch hunter and finder general. He was a good man. He worked in the name of good! ....With hooves.

Caleb turned his brown eyes to the clouds above, wondering if God or any angels were watching them from high above. Did they not have any objections to this? Would they not intervene and slap them both for conspiring for the greater good in their name?

But no divine slap came.

It was only surly clouds above him and Hopkins smiling mask slipping.

“You mean..” Caleb mumbled and sniffled his illness down. “..Lying?”

Hopkins scoffed. “It’s not lying, it’s helping. We both know witches operate with means beyond our realm, it can be spiritual attacks, invisible ones. If we followed strict physical evidence every time, the witches would get away. And our people would be in grave danger.”

Caleb swallowed.

“It’s for the greater good.”

“The.. Greater good.”

“Atta lad, you get it after all.” And patted him on the chest before he stood up. “You will be joining next time, then. I expect you.”

Caleb nodded, and did a tiny salute with his fingers.

“And, as a favour to you from me. I will talk with the constable, use my influence a little for your poor sake. I doubt the doctor would like to hear how ill and pitiful of a sight you are, after.. Stealing his medicine.”

Caleb wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’ll talk to them. Maybe reduce your sentence.”

“Thank you, mister Hopkins, sir. That would be kind.”

“Indeed. Oh, and, Wittebane?”

“..Yes?”

“Get up, won't you? You may be of the lower slags of society, but you aren’t so low you must grovel on the ground like that. Have some self-resepct.”

If Caleb had had any self-respect, it died with the end of Hopkins sentence. He slowly got up on his elbows to push himself back up on the stone, and only then did Hopkins leave him be.

He hugged himself, he was more frozen now than before. And he swallowed down a lump and blinked his gaze to the skies, God was not there, was he…? Of course not. No angels for him.

Caleb would not cry.

Caleb glanced towards Hopkins distant figure. So he knew, this whole time, that Caleb was a liar and was running on imagination and plausible suggestions. Which meant that Hopkins could turn that against him if he wished. He had a better standing than Caleb, especially now, they would trust Hopkins over him.

He didn't want to witch hunt again, he did not want to get high on the euphoria of chasing a person through the woods, believing that he was chasing something barely human, something truly evil. The power of belief was dangerous. He hadn't known they weren't witches. He really had believed that they were damned and had given up their souls to Satan. Empathy had always fought with him, yelling from deep within that they really were people! That there must be another way. But Caleb had been taught that witches prey on your empathy, they use it against you. They use their familiar faces to trick you into giving them mercy.

Caleb remembered their pleading voices, the terror in their eyes as he cornered them. And grinned.

Caleb closed his eyes.

What person did not want to beat up a predator who used magic to harm someone else? Of course Caleb had been happy to put the fear of God in them.

He hated men like that.

Except, in hindsight, it wasn’t even true. Was it. Caleb couldn't decide if the confessions were lies, or if there had been truths to it - who confesses to that? Maybe e would too if he wasa tortured. He liked to imagine he would be strong enough to handle it - but that often meant being tortured to death. What about the victims of witchcraft, though? Had they lied?

A lot of times, the victims were women, and they screamed and wailed and clawed at their flesh. Like there was something they couldn’t say, couldn’t explain, as though the witch was holding their tongue with magic.

In a way, Caleb could relate.

There were things he could never tell anyone, not even under torture. Like the night in the woods when he was going to hang himself. He could never tell anybody that, it was too shameful. He could never admit to anybody how his chest fluttered at the sight of Nashoba, either.

Or how Philip had a different father than he.

Perhaps it was simply that? Secrets could drive you mad.

Caleb squeezed his eyes shut and sniffled. He would not cry. He wouldn’t. Hopkins was right, he was just a dumb half-wit with no self-respect. The least he could do was refrain from having pity for himself.

He pulled up his collar to the ears, the wind was picking up on the streets and the leaves rustled. His stomach growled and he coughed. Caleb’s forehead was beaded with pearls of sweat and heat of fever. And, like it wanted to remind him it was still here and he wasn't getting any better, Caleb coughted into his sleeve so hard he felt his ribs curl over his lungs.

His head felt soggy, clogged, his skin was cold, and his chest was warm. He leaned as best he could to the wall on his left. He wanted to sleep but couldn't, his coughing kept him awake.

At least in this state, the people that saw him left him be. He must look awful.

Somewhere in his haze, the day passed by, the rain began to trickle. He had been right, the rain would be far later than Nashoba would be around - no moccasin tarp for him.

Caleb put his back against the church, to hide from the rain. His legs, though, could not be saved from being wet. Stiff, creaky, he tried to move them just a bit to keep them warm and the blood flowing. But it hurt.

The rain began to fall with more intensity. And when there were no more people on the street.

Caleb had enough.

It came from his troath like a marble of a whimper.

He broke, hunched his shoulders, hung his head, and cried.

Caleb put his hand over his eyes and quietly stifled his weeping.

Is this what had come of him? He thought of his mother, how he couldn’t make out her face in memories any more, only faint figments of what made her recognisable. How he wasn’t even sure if the good memories were accurate or just dreams of something softer than this.

Anything, anything, softer than this. Because this hurt too much. He was stuck, in every possible way. Why couldn’t god just let him die? For what purpose did God keep ensuring he lived? To suffer? Probably.

Caleb mewled and whimpered under his hand. The hiccups hurt his throat. 

“...Caleb?”

He gasped and looked up at Evelyn. Her red hood saved her from the rain. He swallowed and wiped his face.

“What.. Why are stuck in this thing?”

“I'm.. Um… I stole medicine.” He desperately tried to level his voice.

Evelyn gracefully ignored how his voice cracked. As well as his sore and salty eyes, his tear streaked cheeks and general everything.

Her shiny eyes went to the sign around his neck and pouted.

“That won’t do.” She twirled her finger and the lock on the stock came undone.

“No! No, Evelyn, I have to be here! I must serve my punishment.”

“Why..? It’s raining. You’re crying–”

“I'm NOT crying!” He sniffled with a broken voice.

They held gaze. Then he whimpered, his shoulders shook. He gave up and into his sob.

Was there a point in trying to pretend otherwise in front of a woman who had already seen him at his lowest point? And now, another low point.

He curled in on himself. “Just leave me be..!” His voice full of regret and shame.

The rain poured.

The sight of him was unbearable. Evelyn walked around the wooden prison and scooted up next to him, her large basket placed next to her. His tears were too salty and blurred his vision, he couldn’t really see what she was doing. His head hurt and he just wanted to disappear.

Evelyn wrapped her coat around him and pulled him into a side-hug.

“Ev-”

“Be quiet, won’t you.”

And Caleb inhaled snot, not feeling very graceful or dignifying, but she didn't seem to care or be bothered. Evelyn pulled her cape over his legs as best as possible, and, after peeking around the streets for humans.. She twirled her finger at his legs and placed her hand on his thigh.

The warmth spread through his clothes, drying him up. His skin tingled from the heat, welcoming its comfort.

Caleb stroked his dirty hands under his eyes and coughed up phlegm into his mouth. His head was as good as a lump of wet paper now, crying hurt and the fever hurt even more.

“You are really sick.” She said, only now did he realise her hand was touching his forehead. But he was too tired to slap it away or refuse it.

Besides… This was so nice. His entire body let go of a tension he hadn’t known to be there. The warmth she gave him shocked his nerves and his eyes rolled up.

“Oh- Caleb, Caleb?” She patted him on the cheek lightly. “Hey– Okay. Screw this.” And his pride.

She made a magic circle at the stocks, and the two rocks that held the wooden planks - and Caleb’s feet - dragged across the ground and came closer. The earth beneath their stone seat moved, and they now sat properly up against the wall, further away from the rain. A much more comfortable position.

“Caleb?” She shook him lightly and his eyes flickered. “Hey.. You alright?”

“Yeah..” He mumbled drowsily.

His body just let go. Like he had managed to hold the illness at bay with sheer will power alone, but now with Evelyn here - now he was safe. It all just let go, like a dam. And poured him, drowned him all at once, and although he was trying to gather himself back up again; you can't really grab a river with your bare hands and believe it will do anything to stop the flow.

Her hand was cold against his forehead, but he liked it. He licked his lips and sighed.

She dug through her basket and fished out a flask. She popped it open and held it to his lips. Caleb meekly took it and sipped– Tea. Warm and sweet tea, with honey, it soothed his itchy throat. He gulped with relief.

“I have food too.” She said and reached back to her basket.

Caleb watched her in hazy silence, and when she held out bread with cheese and ham, he only looked at it, then her.

“Eat.” But he didn’t take it. “It’s not poisoned or anything.”

“Why are you here..?”

“I was looking for you, you weren’t home.”

His question remained. She sighed.

“You were sick yesterday, I can’t leave you sick. And I’m not mad at you.”

“I held a gun towards you.”

“You did not shoot me.”

“I could have. I should have– I mean it’s my job to–” And recalled his conversation with mister Hopkins.

She pouted. “Caleb–”

“We can’t be friends. We just can’t. Won’t you give it up already? Just– Just go away.”

“No. I won’t. You are sick. If my father knew I left an ill person in this state, he would take all my books and chide me for the rest of my life.” She pushed the sandwich towards his mouth. “Eat.”

And he took a bite, and took it from her.

“Good.” And huffed. “Titan, you’re so stubborn.”

“And you are persistent.”

“What a team we make, then, eh?”

He smiled, and it fell quickly. “Mister Hopkins was here earlier. He implored that I join the next witch hunt, or the investigation at least.”

“Oh.”

“So… You know… You don’t owe me these kindnesses, I’m sure your father would understand.”

“Are you going to go to my cave, in your investigation, and admit me to the authorities?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t even if I knew the location. I have a… Guess? But I’m not certain, anyway.”

She tilted her head, but not at all like Hopkins had. When she stared at him with her big golden eyes it was with all the curiosity in the world. Her lips on the verge of bursting into a big grin.

“..Why not?” She asked, like she knew the answer already.

Caleb pressed the last bit of bread into his mouth. The ham was delicious, steamed, and fatty. The cheese practically fell apart on his tongue and the salt mixed with the meat. It was just a simple sandwich, but it was a good sandwich.

“..Because of the sandwich.” Caleb tried.

“The sandwich.”

“Yep.”

“You’re not going to give me up, for a sandwich?”

“It was a very good sandwich.”

And there it was, the grin. And the snort. Caleb’s heart kicked happily.

She laughed. “Silly, you are silly.”

His smile broke with a cough. And Evelyn brushed his hair free from droplets of rain.

“You poor thing. How much longer must I withstand seeing you in this state, then?”

Evelyn eyed the stocks and frowned. 

“This is inhumane. I mean, I get it but..” She held a hand out at the rain. “In this weather? In your condition? You might get pneumonia or something, if not already. Humans don’t have the same cures we do… Admittedly, as good as you guys are at inventing things and finding solutions, your medical stuff are not quite.. There yet.”

Caleb hacked through a strained cough.

Evelyn grimaced and touched his neck. He shivered.

“You’re so unwell.”

“Just.. The night, then I can go home–”

“The WHOLE night?!” Evelyn gasped. “No, absolutely not! Who’s the authority?! I will have a word with them!”

“NO!” He clung to her arm, making her sit back down. “No, god, please, no. Evelyn, you don’t understand. I begged to be here.”

“What..? Why?”

“I– I’m.. I wasn’t the thief.”

She looked at him as she decended back down to sit, waiting for him to explain, he looked downwards.

“It was Philip.”

“Oh. You.. Took his place.”

“Yes.. I can’t beg for a reduced sentence, that’s… They will think I’m not a man who can handle it–”

“You’re not.” She gestured. “You are ill. Very ill if I may add.”

“I know, but I have to manage anyway.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Well, I’m a half-wit.” He said with a tone of voice that sank far beneath a dark surface. “I may be stupid, so, the least I can have is some dignity. I will sit here, and serve.”

“Then I shall sit with you. And make sure you don't die.” She huffed. "Again."

Caleb knew it would be futile to tell her to go. What point was there to fight her? You could not fight a woman like Evelyn Clawthorne. Wittebanes were stubborn and sly, but it was nothing against the Clawthorne persistence and kindness. She had a way to make him melt, like a candle left aflame to make a puddle of the wax.

And he wanted to melt.

If his aching heart didn’t do the job, his fever did. His lungs hurt now, he was pale and shaking. Her shoulder had become his pillow, she had some kind of perfume...

He closed his eyes. His body slumped against hers. He felt her patting his cheek again.

“Mh?”

“Caleb, try to stay awake, okay? Have more tea. I have more.”

She gave it to him, and she rummaged through her basket. “Thorns, it’s too difficult to examine you in this weather. We need to go inside and lay you down.”

Caleb quirked a brow at the basket. “Why.. Pray tell.. Do you have all this with you?”

“For you.” She said, and he blinked, surprised. “Oh come on, I saw how sick you were in the forest. I thought about the whole gun thing and I realised that: You’re terrified. I have to help you.”

“Haha, what? What do I have to be terrified of? You?”

“No, not me. You’re not afraid of me. That’s just it.. You’re afraid for me, aren’t you?”

He was silent.

“Because I think you want to be friends. You just think I should be afraid of you. I thought about it.”

Evelyn turned to him, and Caleb looked down at the flask of tea.

“I don’t think you want to be a hunter. By all that you told me, it sounds like you think it’s wrong. And I think.. You actually, maybe, like magic.”

He sore eyes glanced at her. Her kind eyes squinted at him.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re stuck here. And scared. And you don’t want me to get hurt, so you tried to scare me away.”

He looked out towards Gravesfield.

“And you think you’re a bad person for feeling that way-”

“No, I'm a bad person because I lied. And people died.”

“Did you believe the lies, at the time?”

“.. Yeah. I did. I’m so dumb I believed my own lies.”

“You know, when people are scared of tings they don't understand, they'll try to find anything that can explain the cause, even if it the conclusion is false. Because anything, even a lie, feels safer than the unknown.”

The rain poured and Caleb watched a raindrop roll down from her pensive brows.

"You can't live your life dictated by the errors you've done, Caleb. You have to forgive yourself. The people you hurt can't speak, you can only do better by learning and moving forward."

“You are being very graceful to me. I haven't earned that kind of forgiveness. And to give it to myself sounds... Selfish.”

“Would you be this strict with your brother too?”

“... No.”

“Does he not believe the humans that died were real witches? Just like you?”

“He didn’t lie–”

“But he believes, doesn’t he? He still participates in all that harm, celebrates it even. Despite all reason, he thinks the lie makes more sense. Don't you hear how unfair that sounds to you, too, if-”

Caleb sniffled. “My head hurts.”

“... Alright.” She removed her cape to tuck it around him more, she put a spell on it to keep the fabric heated and dry. And before he could come up with resistance, she pulled the hood down over his eyes and huffed.

“Boopity boop.” She said as she poked his chest. “Be my loyal henchman. Do as I say.”

Caleb peeked from under the hood at her. “Er, that’s not a real spell. You said so, and, besides, I don’t feel bewitched or–”

She poked him again.

“Boopity boop! Be my loyal henchman, DO as I SAY.” And pouted at him with her arms crossed. Caleb sank into her cape.

“...Okay.”

It made it easier, somehow. To pretend the spell worked, to give up the responsibility. He didn’t have to be the better morally person or martyr, or whatever. She had found a hack in his disordered emotional self-harm. It was a way out, to let himself free from self-flagellation and pious shackles. It wasn’t him! It was her! She’s a witch! He’s just a poor little Christian under a spell! Oh noooo… He must.. Totally do as he’s toooold..! Yep!

Evelyn grinned her fox-like smile, proud that it worked. Good, so he got it.

And Caleb crumbled. He was grateful for the fever now, as his blush was scorching his skin. It actually pained him how hot it was.

Evelyn stood up.

“There’s more food in the basket. I’m getting the authority. Stay here.”

“I can’t really leave.” He looked up at her, with that witty little smirk.

And she let out a breath of relief, glad to see his snark was still there. “Right.” And turned to go get someone but halted at the sight of the constable and Karl.

“Oh! Uh–!”

“Hello, miss.” Said the constable. “And mister Wittebane. How are you doing?”

“Uh–” Caleb began and Evelyn cut him off, standing in the constable’s way.

She had seen the keys in Karl's hand. And assessed that these two were in charge.

“How dare you!”

Her scorn emitted so much venom that the two men turtled into their shoulders and somehow got shorter than the furious little redhead in front of them.

“He is as ill as a famine! How dare you leave him in this weather?! I thought you considered yourselves good people in this town?! Shame upon you both! Unleash him this instance!”

Even Caleb curled away from her rage. He hadn’t thought such a bubbly woman was capable of so much thunder, it just exploded out of her like lightning.

But there she was, in his defence, risking being put in bonds right next to him with an attitude like that.

The constable opened his mouth and had to close it quickly when Evelyn’s finger pointed sharply at him.

“He’s been sick this whole time, I know it, for I saw him yesterday! And you still put him in there!” She pointed at Caleb. “My father’s a healer! And he taught me well! I was informed Caleb stole medicine! I can only imagine it was because your doctors put money before the wellbeing of your neighbour! I spit upon them and their practice! If you do not release Caleb right now I will personally–”

“EVELYN.” Caleb harkled, to stop her from potentially incriminating herself by openly cursing the god-damned c o n s t a b l e himself. “E-Evelyn..! Evelyn.”

She huffed and turned back to the two men with her hands on her hips, squinting at the two of them with so much visceral disdain it coloured the air purple around her.

Both the constable and Karl gulped, eyed one another, and Karl held up the keys.

“We were here to do that.”

“Oh.” She said, calming down. “Good.”

Karle approached the stocks to unlock the lock, and saw that it was undone already. He glanced at Caleb, who coughed. And pretended to unlock it.

The costaple tried to stay out of Evelyn's way, and leaned a bit to get Caleb's attention.

“But your scarlet letter remains." Said the constable. "We spoke with the doctor and.. He agrees that it is bad business for him that you sit here, in the open, looking ill and stole medicine that didn’t work. Mister Hopkins convinced him to dismiss his charge against you, and your sentence is reduced.”

“Thank you.” Caleb’s heels hit the mud with freedom once Karl lift the wooden panel. His legs were stale and creaky from the cold, he couldn’t really move them properly.

“Here.” The constable gave him a white ribbon with a scarlet letter on it. “Instead of the sign. Put it on your sleeve.”

Caleb looked at the T for theft, remembering it as one of the letters Happy Landon wore on his arm.

“Oh… Alright.” Caleb’s hand reached out, he trembled and pinched the little fabric.

Evelyn grunted loudly and stomped over to Caleb. She took it from him. “Which arm?” She gruffed.

“Whichever.” Said the constable.

And she put it on his left arm and then, with very visible spite, tucked her cloak around it and covered it up. Neither of the older man dared to oppose the act.

“And for how long does that nasty letter remain on his arm?”

“The night, and tomorrow until the day is over,” Karl informed. “I know it’s a small extension of time, but this is milder. And he may work in the woods so–”

“HAH! WORK?! Look at him! He’s not going anywhere but to a bed! And there he stays until I say otherwise!”

In one arm, she took her basket, in the other, she took Caleb by his.

“We are leaving now!” She growled, “And there will be no more stops or whathaveyous from anyone! I’m taking him home.” And the two men stepped aside, letting the young couple out into the rain.

The two men eyed one another as the odd duo disappeared down the streets.

“I didn’t know Wittebane had a girlfriend.” Said the constable.

“Me either…” Said Karl, itching his hair by his cauliflower ear. “First name basis and everything.” And felt the weight of the lock in his hand, before handing it to the constable.

“Never seen her before. Her father’s a doctor..?”

“Apparently. Must be from the nicer part of town. Maybe they met in the woods.”

“Maybe.”

They watched Caleb and Evelyn disappear into an alleyway.

There, Evelyn made sure nobody saw them as her palisman crawled out from her hair, into her hand, and turned into a staff.

Caleb was clattering his teeth and shivering. She conjured an illusion around them to look like birds to anyone who saw them.

Artemis lift Caleb up and Evelyn right behind him.

“Hang in there.” She whispered to him by his ear, her arms wrapped over his waist to hold the staff, securing him.

And then there was no more solid ground under his feet.

He watched the ground become further and further away. The rain shaping into a tunnel of water towards the ground far below. She flew into the clouds, they were cold and wet, he couldn’t see anything. But she knew the way.

Caleb was so warm, his lungs hurt, his head hurt. His arms felt weak, and he couldn’t keep upright. But Evelyn was there and held him secure. All he could do was pinch his fingers onto the lapel of her coat.

Soon enough, he saw his cottage.

The rain smattering on the rooftop and poured a flat river down over the boards, washing it clean of leaf and forest debree. He saw a bit of the roof he needed to fix at some point.

The staff landed them in the front yard. Artemis crawled back into his shelter of hair and Caleb swayed where he stood, making his way to the veranda with Evelyn.

Evelyn guided him into the house.

Inside, they heard a gasp and Philip stood up by the table where he had been seated. “Caleb–!” And saw Evelyn. “Miss.. Clawthorne!”

“Reduced sentence, with a mild extension, apparently.” Evelyn explained quickly. “Philip, right? Could you be so kind and boil water for me? For.. Tea! I’m going to take care of your brother.”

Philip stood there, looking between them. “Um–”

Caleb sighed, his voice hoarse. “Pip, just do it.”

“Yes! Of course! Right! On it!” And scrambled in a circle to find a pot to fill.

Evelyn took him upstairs.

The cape dropped as he seated himself on a stool by his bedside. Se took his boots and his coat. “And the shirt, go on.” She said and did a grabby with her hand, his shirt was soaked with sweat and rain.

Caleb blushed. “Erm…”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve helped my dad with plenty of patients, Caleb. You’re not my first bare-bodied man.”

But Caleb still looked a little too shy. She sighed and turned around towards the bed itself. And grimaced. When was the last time this had been changed sheets? She threw her eyes to the door, twirled her finger to close it, and turned her hands to the bed.

Caleb drowsily watched her golden coloured magic glim and glam over the fabric, and he watched it turn from yellowish to white. Some old lump smoothered out and he could swear he saw a misty steam puff out and disappear.

“That will have to do. For now.” She turned back to him, and she had not seen a human look more sorry before. “Alright, I won’t look, okay? Where do you keep your clothes?”

“The parlour, er.. it’s not really a par- never mind. In the room across of mine.”

“Right. Undress, tuck yourself down, I will be back with a new shirt and.. Socks.”

Caleb looked down at his damp socks as she left. He did undress and hide under the covers– Ah. They were toasty. The linen felt fresh and dry, like it was new. He fell into the pillow, his eyelids fluttering shut.

With a breath out of exhaustion, he nearly fell asleep.

He was so heavy.

Caleb heard creaks and pitter-patter around him, but didn’t care. It was either Evelyn or Philip.

Caleb creaked his eye open when there was a weight by his side on the mattress and glanced up at Evelyn smiling down at him.

His ribbon was gone, and she was stroking his head, her nails dug into his hair, and he let out a soft sound of comfort.

She held something against his back that felt like a seashell of sort. A little cold, but as though it had been warmed by her hands first.

“Could you breathe in for me? And out?”

So he did. It made him feel sleepy. He heard her write something and glanced at the book in her lap. Evelyn saw him looking, and she turned it for him to see, knowing he wouldn’t understand the words but didn’t want to leave him out.

“I’m just doing a medical journal for you.”

“..Why?”

“It’s good, for future reference.”

“...For your book?”

“Heheh, no. Just for you.” And she filled out a form. Caleb blinked slowly until his eyes got sore and he closed them. “Do you want your shirt, Caleb?”

Caleb pulled up the blanket over his shoulders. Remembering he was bare, giving her a peeved glance of annoyance.

“Heheh, okay, sorry.” And helped him by tucking the blanket further up. “Do you know if you have any medical conditions? Allergies, bad liver, anything?”

He shook his head.

“No, he doesn’t.” said Philip, who stood by the door.

Caleb creaked an eye open. Philip smiled hopefully at him, but Caleb turned his face the other way, and Philip’s heart sank.

“I am still cross with you.” Caleb muttered.

“I know, but I wanted to tell you I don’t regret stealing it. But I… I regret how nonchalantly I behaved. You were right, thank you, and, sorry.”

Caleb sighed and turned back to face Philip. He did look sorry.

The oldest grunted and moved around onto his side. “Come then.” And waved Philip over.

Evelyn moved away so that Philip could lean by his brother’s side. Evelyn put his shirt onto the bed within Caleb's reach and turned around to make use of Philip’s tea water. Caleb quickly slipped the shirt on and Philip politely waited.

The two brothers looked at one another.

“I promise I won’t ever throw away something you, and I, worked so hard for. I won’t give it up so easily next time, you were right. I was just… Trying to be helpful.”

Caleb sighed and invited his brother into a small hug. “You’re good Pip… Just… You get ahead of yourself.”

Philip smiled. “Right, and you get carried away.”

“Hey.” He tapped him on the nose, Philip’s smile spread playfully. “Be good.”

“I’m always good. You be good.”

Caleb ruffled him. Philip ruffled him back.

“Ah- no don’t! My hair.”

“You look awful anyway, I’m practically improving it!”

Caleb lowered his voce to a whisper. “Get me my comb–”

“Now?” Philip hushed back with a chuckle. “You don’t need it.” A comb would not save him.

Caleb glanced at Evelyn quickly before looking back at Philip. Philip glanced at her as well, then at his brother. And gave Caleb a gaze of REALLY CALEB . And Caleb gave him back a YES, REALLY. WE HAVE FEMALE COMPANY.

Caleb brushed his fingers through his hair to try to comb it nicer, to one side of his shoulders. Philip rolled his eyes at his brother’s flamboyant and excessive vanity. He got up and got the comb for him. Caleb gave him a little pout for judging him, and Philip just smiled with tease on his lips.

The brothers’ shenanigans had not gone unnoticed by Evelyn, and as she put medicine into the cup with the hot water, she smiled softly.

“Here.” She returned with the cup and Caleb’s hair looked a lot more preened, and she chuckled at him. “It’s actual medicine.”

Caleb took the cup and sipped it carefully, sinking into his pillow. Philip glanced at the beverage and then at Evelyn.

“How much?”

“Hm?”

“How much for it?”

“What?”

“The medicine, what do you want for it?”

“Nothing? I just want him well. You should have seen him, he looked at death's door.” She scoffed angrily. “Really! What kind of people put a sick man in a position like that?! If he’s done a crime, and he’s in this state, let him sit in a cell! With warmth! Punishment is one thing, but this is excessive.”

Philip blinked. “Uh… Wait, you’re doing this for free?”

“Yes.”

“Out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Yep.” Evelyn nodded and smiled at Caleb. “Though, perhaps, if you want to pay something. How about that drink you promised me?”

And Caleb laughed. “Alright.”

“Drink? What drink?” Philip pingponged between them. “Wait– How do you two even know one another? Who ARE you?”

“I’m Evelyn–”

“No no, I know your name Miss Clawthorne, but who are you?” He gestured at her basket and at Caleb’s cup of medicine. “A learned woman? Are you a midwife or something?”

She giggled. “No, my father is a healer. I’m just an academic.”

“Healer? You mean doctor?”

“Sure, yes. Doctor. Er, I just prefer to call it healer because.. Well.. He has a philosophy!”

“Uh-huh.”

“To help everyone in need. Regardless of if they can afford it.”

“..If doctors did things for free, they’d be out of business.” Philip quoted his brother.

“Not at all! People get sick all the time! He never runs out of patients to treat. And when it comes to money, people pay him if they can. And they often pay well if he does a good job. Especially wealthy patients, it evens out. Sometimes people even donate to him to ensure he can stay in business of helping people with the latest and greatest of advancements.”

Philip blinked with all the wonders his scientific little heart desired. “Really? That works? Like.. Patrons?”

“Yes!” She grins. “And my father is very strict about cutting away patrons that try to manipulate or coerce him into immoral practices like.. Denying someone help or things like that. He is an honest man. And that’s why people like him, they trust him.”

Philip looked up at her with dreams in his eyes, cogwheels of a future.

“And with the trust of the people, you will thrive.” Evelyn grinned.

And Philip took those words of wisdom to heart and locked them deep within.

Caleb was finishing his medicine-tea whatever it was, watching the two of them and how Evelyn influenced his brother. He smiled, put the empty cup away and sank into his pillow.

What a nice sight this was. His brother and this robust and confident woman.

He watched them discuss things he didn’t understand. She was showing him what the medicine was made out of, told him about the importance of cleanliness. Caleb's fever crept over his face, tuckered him in, and finally let him sleep.

“Caleb look!” Philip turned with Evelyn’s medicine journal in hand. “She’s teaching me how to– Oh.”

Caleb was out cold and Philip gave Evelyn her medical book back. He pulled the covers over Caleb more and noticed how clean the sheets were. Had they always been clean? No, had they? He must imagine things.

“Let's let him sleep.” Evelyn said behind a finger over her lips.

She took her basket and the two left the bedroom. They went downstairs, and there, by the oven, she began to unpack food. Philip shyly looked at all the eggs, ham, bread and butter.

“Is that for us..?”

“Yes. I had extra.” She winked at him. “Your brother is a little stingy. I looked at his nails, he has no half-moons. Usually that’s not much to be concerned over, but considering his context of.. Everything else! I figured he’s probably a little malnourished.”

Philip blinked and looked at his own nails. “Half-moons?”

“Yes, the white crescent at the bottom there, see?”

“Yes?”

“Right, Caleb lacks them on all but his thumbs. Which are usually sign of malnutrition, anemia or melancholia. Or all of the above.”

Melancholia. Depression.

Philip curled his fingers in and stared out into the room.

“He cries a lot.” He confided quietly. And turned up to her with hope in his eyes that maybe she’d know what to do about it.

“Does he..?”

“Yes. And.. I don’t know how you two know one another, but you seem to know how to.. heal.. people. And he won’t talk to me.” He squeezed his thumb in his hand. “He doesn’t trust me..”

“He trusts you.” She comforts. “I think he’s trying to protect you.”

“Well, I want to protect him, too. Even if it’s from himself. And I can’t help if he won’t talk to me.” He furrowed his brows sadly. “Why won't he talk to me..”

Evelyn sat down on a nearby chair and looked up at Philip. He looked at her.

“Sometimes.. When people are hurt in here.” She tapped her heart. “They isolate themselves. Not because they hate the people trying to love them, but because they are scared that the pain they have will hurt those people.”

“It hurts more when he pushes me away.”

“I know. And it’s unkind towards you. Especially since it’s just the two of you. I understand it must be confusing and frustrating to you.”

“A bit.. yes. What can I do for him?”

“You’re already doing great, Philip. All you need is patience. I’m sure, when he feels safer in himself and ready, he will talk to you.”

He nodded, even if it wasn’t the answer he wanted. There were no clear direction, just vague trust in the hope of something. Philip always struggled with faith like that. He was hands-on, down in the machine of it all, pulling and taking it apart until he found what was wrong. But people weren’t like that. You couldn’t just pull people apart and fix them.

He wanted to fix him.

“Miss Clawthorne?”

“Yes?”

“What.. Are your intentions with my brother? He has no wealth to offer, he barely has reputation, especially now. Sure, he is the golden guard of Downtown but.. All he is; is good company, the best there is, even. But that's as good as it gets. His presence won’t give you a standing in this town. We are nobodies.”

She chuckled. “I don’t care about that stuff. I have my own mission.”

“Oh?”

“I’m writing a book. It’s in the draft stage, right now. And I’m just in Gravesfield for the view, really.”

“Oh. Are you.. Pardon me for asking, are you a woman of the gentry? Are you a lady? I apologise if I have titled you wrongly.”

“No, haha, Miss Clawthorne works! I’m trying to be a bit incognito~!”

She jazzed her hands and Philip grimaced curiously at her. What a strange woman.

“I suppose I have some wealth at my disposal, though.”

She jutted a thumb at the food.

“I’m leaving that for you two. Why don’t you cook something nice for him, eh?”

“You are leaving?”

“Just for now. Gotta go get some stuff. I’ll be back at dawn and take care of him. Don’t worry if he coughs. Oh! And.. You go ahead and drink some medicine too, mh? So you don’t get sick aswell.”

“Oh, alright. Thank you.”

She winked, and out through the door she left. He watched her wander with her basket into the rain, her red coat disappearing in the distance.

Philip looked at the food, it was late already. But he was hungry and he wanted Caleb to have something. So he made flapjacks, with bacon ontop.

He had some things to think about.

Chapter Text

Caleb woke up feeling like glue. His hair lay sticky to his skin, and his linen shirt was soaked in sweat. It was unbearably gross. Caleb pulled the covers off himself hastily with a grunt, and the cold air swept over him nicely. He let the air cover him for a moment before unsticking himself from the bed.

“Eugh..!”

He could not remain in these garments. He found breakfast by his bedside, but had no appetite. The messy blonde man could hear the brunette walk around downstairs, preparing for work. He wouldn’t bid farewell, it would only cause Philip to remain longer.

Caleb removed his shirt, only keeping his undergarments on, and filled a basset with water to wash his face and comb his hair. He tied it up with a ribbon so it wouldn’t plaster itself against his fever-flushed skin. He felt disgusting, and found a rag to wash the sweat off of his body.

Outside, Evelyn met a reluctant Philip at the door. Upon seeing her, the brooding tension was let go in his shoulders with a breath.

“Miss Clawthorne.”

“Morning.” Evelyn greeted cheerfully. “Off to work?”

“Yes.” The basket in her hand looked heavy, and he could only assume she had brought more food with her. Or medication. Whatever it was, he was grateful. “Thank you for coming. I can’t stay.”

“Begone with you.” She chuckled. “Do not worry about Caleb.” She winked, and clicked as she cocked her finger in the shape of a pistol. “I got it.”

Philip thought she was a rather odd woman, but her bouncy attitude was growing on him.

He politely nodded and dismissed himself, having to hurry off as he had lingered at home.

Evelyn could see, upon coming inside, that the youngest brother had already made breakfast. So she only unpacked the food she had brought. The water was still hot, so she made two cups with a spoon of honey each and ascended upstairs to Caleb’s bedroom.

She had been prepared to find him asleep and didn’t bother knocking. So when she opened the door, and found him half-dressed in only long-johns and socks, she let out a yelp. “Oh!”

Caleb clamped the shirt in his hands to his chest. “Evelyn!!”

He was scrawnier than his broad shoulders had given the impression of him to be.

“Sorry!! Sorry!” She backed out and closed, stifling a snort.

“Jesus, woman! Don’t they knock where you’re from?!”

And she laughed. “I thought you were sleeping!”

“Evidentially, I am not!” Caleb’s voice squeaked. He coughed and repeated himself with a deeper voice. “I just woke!”

“Very well, how are you feeling today?”

“..Better.” He dressed and, for good measure, put on both trousers and his low-rimmed buckled shoes. “Thanks to your medicine, no doubt. I never had the opportunity to properly thank you for that; thank you.”

“Of course.” And she knocked on the door. “Maaay I come in~?”

“Yes.” He sat down on his bed, tidying it a bit.

“Oh– You’re dressed.”

“Yes, you are here.”

She squinted at him. “You’re not going anywhere today.” Dressed or not, he looked as ill as a plucked seagull.

“I’m not, I am just presentable.” He flicked his hand delicately.

“You don’t have to be.“ She gave him the tea. “I’ve seen sick people before in less dress than you.”

“Well,” He huffed with a bit of an attitude. “Maybe that’s how it is over there, but here, men and women don’t undress for one another unless they’re married.”

“Woah, really? That’s so strict. What about children? I’ve seen plenty of toddlers in just a shirt and their butt out.”

“Er, that’s different. Like, up to a certain age, it’s fine if it’s family. And us slags of society can’t really afford to have our babes presentable and decently dressed all the time.”

Caleb coughed into his arm.

“Slags?” Evelyn tilted her head.

“Erm, the poor. Downtrodden. The fallen women, the working class, crooks. You know, me.”

“That’s an awful name for people who are struggling, isn’t it?”

Caleb blinked. “Erm.. I mean.. Yes? But we are a burden, that much can’t be argued. Sin practically breed among us lesser folks like disease, it is a problem.” And gestured at himself, as though himself alone was evidence of his statement. Evelyn scrunched her nose, not finding anything to agree with.

“I don’t think your situation makes you lesser than.”

“You’re not from here. If you lived here, you’d know.”

“But I am here all the time. And I still don’t think so.”

“That’s because you are a kind woman. And you have not been influenced by our views.”

She smiled. “So you think that’s a good thing?”

“Mh?”

“Not having your culture’s views, that is.”

Caleb was silent. “Um… I can’t answer that.” He really couldn’t. If he said yes, he was admitting something he wasn’t ready to dive into. And if he said no, he was lying and would for sure upset her.

“Why not?”

He sighed. “You have a lot of questions I don’t always have answers to, Evelyn.”

“Right, sorry. I’m just curious, you know? I finally get to ask someone, haha!”

“I’m glad I can provide you entertainment.” He said and chuckled.

“No!” Evelyn stressed, surprising Caleb with the sudden change in her. “No, you’re not just entertainment! There’s more to it than that! I wouldn’t! I’m not using you.. Right? I mean, am I..?”

He blinked. “Uh.. Maybe? For your book or research, whatever it was?”

Evelyn put her hands to her cheeks. Caleb watched her sink down onto a chair, looking like someone had just called her something hurtful.

Caleb put his tea aside.

“It’s okay if you are entertained by me, Evelyn. I don’t mind.”

“I mind.” She looked at the dusty floor. “I don’t want to use anyone… It’s awful..”

He tilted his head and clasped his hands together, peeking at her in his silence. It was rude to pry and prod, especially women. Though, he was curious. He barely knew anything about her, and to him, it felt like she knew some of his most authentic and vulnerable sides already.

And this was obviously a sensitive topic.

She glanced towards him, and found his gentle brown eyes, his presence a comfort. He smiled politely to her.

“I’m not hurt.” He offered. And that seemed to help.

She sat up straight. “Promise? I won’t bother you any more if I’m–”

“I promise.” He made a cross over his chest. “On God.”

And she perked up. “Okay.. Good..!” And sipped her own honey water.

“Say, Evelyn.” He said and held up his half empty cup of honey water. He bumped his cup with hers. “Cheers.”

“Cheers..?”

“Yes, we are having a drink together, aren’t we?” And smiled, hoping that would turn her mood around. He wiggled the cup lightly and his smile turned into a smirk, like he had tricked her into having that drink he promised.

Watching Evelyn burst into sunshine sent a tingle through his chest like fireworks. But it could be the influenza, too, he told himself.

“Oh!” She leaped with her arms around him, spilling her tea in the process. Caleb coughed as he fell backwards and had to catch himself with his hand to not fall into bed with her. “Does that mean we’re friends now?”

He gaped, getting lost in her golden eyes and her wild red hair. That tingle in his chest began to glow and fume with warmth.

“Uh– Yes?”

“AH! HAHA!” And she squeezed him again. “YES!!” And let go of him with a little fist pump and hopped to the floor to do an unrhythmic wiggle.

He snorted. “What are you doing?”

“Celebration dance! I made a friend!” She squeaked.

And his smile fell into concern. “Do you not have friends..? Or did you mean human friend.”

And her dance stopped. She swished her skirt a little. “Erm.. It’s complicated.. Kinda.”

“Well, I’m your friend now so, if you want to talk, I’m.. uh.. Here.” He said, and just kind of politely sat there in his bed like an awkward duck on an egg. 

Normally, he’d have to see through someone's mask, to see who they really were underneath it. Once he knew that, to make friends with them was easy! People just wanted to be understood and accepted without judgement. It gave Caleb the safety of knowing how much of himself he could expose. But Evelyn had no mask, and he had never had to be authentic with anyone like this before, or rather, been invited to be freely himself from the start. Somehow that made it more difficult.

She looked like she’d never heard that being offered before. “Really?”

“Yes?”

“It’s not annoying?”

“No..?” He furrowed his brows. “Why would it be?”

She shrugged and picked on one of her nails. “The friends I used to have, or have, are a bit.. Well, they think I’m a lot to deal with, I guess?” And sighed. “Usually they come to me because they want something, and only then do they put up with my babbling and company. They wouldn’t invite me unless it benefits them in some way.”

Ah, he thought. That’s why she doesn’t want to take advantage of anyone, not even by accident.

“Those don’t sound like friends to me.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers. I know I’m weird.”

Caleb frowned. “So? I like that you’re weird.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Admittedly, I denied that at first, but I do like it. You think very differently from me, and I always learn something. Even in the short time we’ve known each other.” 

He shrugged, smoothing his hand over his trousers to get rid of some creases.

“And you are smart, not too unlike my brother. I like that you have challenged me a bit… I mean, it is terrifying because you say and do things that are taboo. But you say them, and yet.. Nothing happens. And I find myself agreeing and.. Nothing happens. If anything I.. Feel.. Better. Strangely enough. So perhaps I am weird too. And us weirdos got to stick together, eh?”

The world was just this bedroom now, and within that world was only the two of them. This must be what Eden was like to Adam and Eve. When Eve gave Adam the apple and Adam didn’t die, instead he saw everything for what it was and took Eve’s hand and said let's get outa here and run for it.

Perhaps that was God’s plan all along for them to bite the apple. Perhaps Caleb was meant to, too.

Evelyn swayed around so that her skirt danced by her ankles, and Caleb was happy to have brought her the kind of comfort she had brought him.

“Happens?” She asked, curiosity peaking again, stroking a bang of her hair behind her ear. “What did you expect would happen if you agreed with me on things?”

Caleb gestured to the ceiling. “You’re a witch, so, maybe God striking me down, anything. I have lots of sins, I am confident I should suffer for them. But every time I am, you’re there. And I feel a little better .”

He plucked a loose string from the sewed-on patch of fabric on his knee.

“You are either the devil soothing me at my lowest to win me over, or you are God’s way of saying it’s fine. Don’t know which yet, but I think I would like to find out.”

“Or,” Evelyn begins and Caleb smiles, anticipating her words of wisdom. “Or it’s just me. Just you. Nothing great in the far beyond scheming our lives in details, nothing divine. Just us.”

“See, that’s what I meant.” He grinned and she shyly leaned on her heels. “I already feel better not knowing now.”

Evelyn’s smile crinkled her eyes. This was nice, she’d never felt like she herself was enough of a contribution before. But here he was, this troubled scallywag with a self-worth issue thinking she was pretty great, and a first choice.

Maybe this is what having a real friend was like?

“Thanks Caleb.”

“Of course, what are ~friends~ for, mh?” He teased and leaned over to elbow her lightly.

“Heheh, you are a smirk, aren’t you?”

“Eeeh, a bit of a weasel maybe, but if you don’t know that by now, that’s on you.”

She softened and reached over to touch his forehead. “Or maybe it’s the fever talking.”

“It’s gone down.”

“Still coughing?”

“All night, but it’s better now.”

“Good to hear. I wouldn’t want my friend to be ailing.”

“Ohhh, but Evelyn, don’t heal me too quickly!” He put his wrist to his forehead and, grinning, fell into his bed. “It is not often a maiden tends to me! Let me enjoy it a bit.”

She smacked his shoulder playfully. “Oh stop.” But it only made him grin more.

On the windowsill, she caught a line of wooden figurines. She hadn’t noticed them yesterday. As she swept over the room, she saw more woodwork. Masks, two wooden swords, a shelf full of little wooden people and animals. Miniatures.

There were some nicely stitched fabric as well. A half-done scarf hung from a stick against the wall like a painting, tiny bits of fabrics patched together, each seam had its own unique stitch.

But it was the wood ones that really stood out to her.

She plucked a duck from the window. “What are these?” But it wasn’t a duck, not really. The body was that of a frog.

“Oh, silly things. Don’t mind them.” He sat up and took it from her to put it back. “I just– It’s dumb.”

“No, they’re pretty. What are they for?”

“Nothing, they’re useless.”

“Then why make them?”

Caleb hesitated and scratched a nail with another. “Erm.. For fun.”

“Then it’s not useless.” And she stood up to look through the shelf of people. She recognised one and took the Pequot man down.

“Oh! It’s Nashoba! Isn’t it?”

Caleb blushed. “Erm- ahem, uh, no.”

“Yes it is! Oh, and that’s you by him–”

Caleb got out of bed to take it from her. He hid it in his palm and gave her a surly frown.

But she smiled knowingly at him. “I don’t care if you like men, Caleb.”

“I don’t like men!” He said and put Nashoba back, but thought better of it and placed him far away from the mini-Caleb.

“I know you said it was a crime. But it’s still fine by me.”

Caleb carefully looked at her. There was no trace of judgement or disgust. He pinched the wood of the shelf, pulling off a splinter. He had never admitted it aloud before.

“Maybe.. Just a little bit.” Quickly and painfully, with a whip of reprimand, Caleb‘s soul filled with fear of judgement, so he quickly stammered out: “But I like women too! So, you know, I can choose the, er, right one! Anyway, you know? Hah!”

“You can like both.” She chuckled. “I like both.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“I like both, too.”

“...What?”

She laughed. “I like men and women and those in-between.”

“Euh, in-between?”

“Yeah. You know, like intersex or nonbinary? Androgynous?”

Caleb blinked with confusion and shook his head. “I think I know what androgynous means.”

“Well, there you go, then.”

But it didn’t help Caleb much at all, and he quickly shrugged the topic off and away. He didn’t want to know, it was dangerous to know.

“Anyway.” He coughed. “Just don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. I wouldn’t. Not even if I’m mad at you or if we weren’t friends.”

Caleb could only give her a strained smile. Evelyn turned back to the figurines.

“They look fun. Do you have a figure of everyone in Gravesfield?”

“Pretty much.” He itched his cheek. “Erm, but it’s actually bad to make dolls with faces.”

“Why?”

“They could invite bad spirits.”

“Oh! Oracle magic? Huh, I guess they look a bit like conjure dolls.”

“Th-they do?”

“Oh no, don’t get nervous, please. It’s not the same at all! Yours aren’t even made out of bones.”

Caleb grimaced. “Okay…?” That wasn’t comforting.

“And secondly, I don’t know if humans even have ghosts.”

“We do.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Unrest spirits, ghouls, um.. That’s why it’s important to have a Christian burial, and to be faithful to God. If you are a criminal, depending on your crime (like witchcraft), you might not get a proper burial. Or even if you do, and you’re a bad sinner, you might be rejected from heaven and remain here on earth in unrest.”

“I thought you went to hell? Or whatever it was called.”

“It’s a kind of hell, isn’t it? To wander forever, dead. Watch those you love pass on, see the generations go by, and you can’t do anything. You’re just.. Stuck.”

Caleb’s eyes got lost in the nether. He gulped and looked at his figurines.

“I shouldn’t have them. They are creepy, but they’re also indulgence.”

“Because it’s fun for you to make them?”

He nodded.

“Is everything you humans enjoy sinful?”

“To degrees, yes. Take music, for example; we are encouraged not to dance or sing, because it is a slippery slope to drink and– er, lust. But I like music too, and dance. So I try to keep it to the minimum. I shouldn’t do a lot of things that I do anyway. I am a pretty bad sinner, actually. I try not to be so bad, but it’s difficult.” He paused, his smile pained as he looked out over his miniature citizens. “Maybe.. I’m born bad.”

“Nobody is born bad.” She put a hand on his arm.

“Are you sure?” Caleb asked with a burden in his voice. “At what point do we decide if my bad actions are or isn’t inherently from a black heart I was born with? What if the reason I do sinful things, am attracted to them, is because my soul is evil? What if I am destined to become cruel and tyrannical because I’m inclined to commit sin all the time?”

Should I even be around then? He thought.

Caleb stroked a hand over the shelf, sweeping off a bit of dust. He looked through the dolls of Gravesfield inhabitants. He found mister Hopkins in the crowd and cowered into his shoulders.

“Does intent matter? Would it matter if I thought I did right when I was witch hunting, and then found out it was not? What if I’m unforgivable, even if I try to fix my wrongs afterwards? People still got hurt, Evelyn. My intentions don’t matter then, apologising isn’t enough.”

Caleb shook his head, he plucked down a chunky woman and looked at her round face.

“... It’s about repentance.”

Evelyn’s heart broke for him. Caleb was so entangled in his thoughts, and the philosophy of morality, that it had become a noose around his neck. It squeezed the life out of him, and she saw how he dangled and suffocated from it.

If she could help it, she wanted to untangle it for him. Or perhaps help him find ways to do it himself. Little by little, with patience, maybe her friend would be able to breathe again.

Caleb sighed.

“Sometimes I wonder... What if Goodie Ann never told me her secret? I might still have been a happy, cruel, witch hunter then. Taking delight in it. Lying and hurting others. I felt wrong the whole time and I ignored it because the hype felt better than feeling guilt. What kind of person does that…? Getting swept up in my own lies so easily.”

He put the woman back on the shelf, but this time he laid her down next to a few others in the back.

Evelyn looked at the chunky figurine and then at Caleb. “Who is Goodie Ann?”

“Was. She was a witch we caught. I was there, in her cell, interrogating her with the lads.” He sighed. “We got her confession, so I offered to stay behind and watch her a bit. I wanted to taunt her, maybe ask her some things out of morbid curiosity.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, pinched the skin between his eyes. “She told me she lied about being a witch. I didn’t believe her, of course. So she told me to go look under the stairs to her small shack next to the Fiddles’ family home. Against my better judgement, I did. There was just something about it…”

Evelyn tilted her head sadly at him and glanced at the doll. Goodie Ann’s permanent faint smile lay turned towards the former hunter.

Caleb sniffled, and turned away to let out a series of coughs into his sleeve.

“What had she done? As a supposed witch, I mean.”

“Caused sickness in a young woman, Marcy Fiddle, she had been sluggish and melancholic for a while, unable to work and refused to eat. She cut at her skin and was unable to speak of why she was, well, going insane. After mister Hopkins said he suspected Goodie Ann, I stalked her. And I found out she sneaked things into the Marcy’s food; Goodie was their cook. It only made sense that it was witchcraft. And then, miss Fiddle was asked if Goodie Ann had been the one to hex her, she broke down and said yes.” Caleb swallowed. “It was horrible, the way she wailed and sobbed. As if us having said her name broke her free from Goodie’s spell somehow.”

“And what did you find under the stairs?”

Caleb bit down on his lip. “She had been giving miss Fiddle herbs that.. erm.. They’re meant to bring the flowers down.”

“Flowers?”

Caleb hesitated. “Miscarriage.”

“Oh.” Evelyn said in a quiet tone. “Let me guess.. That’s a sin too?”

“Mh, not just, it’s considered murder, so...” Caleb looked down, and didn’t elaborate on his own opinion on the matter. Evelyn had a hunch the reason might be that Caleb may disagree with the law, or he at least understood why the practice was sought out.

“What I don’t understand is why Goodie Ann didn’t say so. She could have said that the girl had asked it off her, sure, Goodie still had the criminal know-how to do such a thing. She would have been hanged anyway for having committing it with miss Fiddle. But she could have brought Marcy down with her, as revenge for saying she hexed her.”

“Maybe that’s it, then?”

“Mh?”

“She didn’t want miss Fiddle to hang with her. Sounds like maybe the girl had asked it of her? Maybe Goodie understood Marcy had no choice but to point fingers at her.”

“Perhaps… But then why tell me? I could have turned Marcy in too.”

Evelyn smiled softly. “Maybe she knew you wouldn’t tell?”

“Then why say anything at all? Just to have someone know? That makes no sense.”

Caleb looked at the figure of Goodie Ann, the smile he had given her now held so much mystery. He put his hand to his chin thoughtfully.

“Something is afoot there… Why did she want me to know?”

And glanced over the rest of his miniature Gravesfield.

Evelyn looked at them all with him and then turned to him. “Who’s the father?”

“Mh?”

“She was pregnant, yes? Who was the father?”

The world was a stage, and Caleb was a main actor. Behind him, Evelyn pulled the curtains wide open as though it should have been done ages ago. And as he turned to look at the backdrop, he saw all of Gravesfield. The houses, the roads, the sun, and moon. His figurines littered the scenery, with each hanging on a string like a hanged puppet.

And there it was, the mystery. It unclogged something in his head, and Caleb furrowed his brows.

“I… Don’t know who.”

“Does anyone else know she was pregnant?”

“No. Not to my knowledge.”

Now all the people on his shelf lay coated with shadows.

This must be why Goodie Ann told him to find the herbs. Someone had to know, someone had to find out who had done it to the girl.

Caleb hated men like that. Who used and abused women.

He thought of his mother, her weeping, her bruises, how Philip was conceived. The man with the thick scar on his collarbone is all Caleb remembered of Philip’s biological father. Not that it mattered, Philip was a bastard and Caleb had told Philip they shared both parents. But he did remember how his mother cried. How often the man came. How cruel he was. Just one amongst many.

The victim of witchcraft, Marcy Fiddle, had been young, unwed, her parents were merchants and fairly well off. Perhaps she was allured by a man who took advantage of her naivety and then abandoned her.

But in that case, all that would happen to him was getting lashes and Marcy’s dignity and respect in the community would be ruined and unrepairable. It would be the same outcome if it had happened by force upon her. And sometimes in these cases, if the man was slick with his words and accused her of flirting and seducing him, the woman might even take all the blame and punishment.

There would be no true justice. No wonder Marcy couldn’t say anything. No wonder she tore herself apart.

What a difficult secret to live with.

“I don’t understand the.. Not married and with child thing.” Evelyn confessed.

“Long explanation short; Marriage ensures that the babes being born share the privileges of being God’s children. Those that aren’t, aka; out of wedlock, become bastards. They are polluted offspring.”

“What’s wrong with being a bastard? Polluted sounds harsh and untrue...”

“You mean aside from not being graced by God’s light - you can baptize, sure. But you are still deemed half a soul, kind of. People expect you to have lesser morals and to have less restraint towards sin. People expect you to fail, it surprises nobody if you’re drunken and face down in the mud in the morning. It’s not like it doesn’t happen non-bastards, but, well, people just put emphasis on them. SO! Bastards have to.. Try a little harder to gain respect.”

Caleb couldn’t look her in the eyes any more, and Evelyn began to understand why.

“And.. When you are poor, you can become desperate. Especially fallen women. They… Sell themselves to unsavoury, hungry, men. Breeding more bastards into the low and largely growing parts of society. It is a cycle that bites its own tail, really. Misery feeds itself.”

“Slags.” Evelyn filled in and found his eyes at last. But Caleb couldn’t bare holding her gaze long. “Are you.. A bastard?”

Caleb licked his dry lips and filled his chest with a strained breath. It was something he always denied to anyone who would suggest it. He had even got into fights with other boys when he was younger when they had called him a bastard. But Evelyn was different, with her honesty and kindness, her abundance of non-judgmental invitation.

“My… Mother said I wasn’t. But I knew she lied.”

“How could you know? Can’t you take her word for it?”

His chuckle was low. “Sometimes you just look someone in the eyes as they lie to you, and somehow, you just know what the truth really is.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” She hummed. “You can’t just know what’s in someone's head, Caleb, or what their reeeaaal intent is.”

He smiled. “You can. Not always, but sometimes.”

“I have never personally experienced that.”

“Let’s hope you never do. I wouldn’t want to wish you the heartbreak.”

Neither of them knew it then, that there would come a day when he’d tell her it would all be fine. And she’d look into his eyes and just know otherwise.

Evelyn saw Caleb sink. Like when you throw a bucket into a lake and watch it slip on the surface, fill with water, and then go down under without bubbles. Quick and soundless. She didn’t like seeing him like that, it made her body ache.

And now that he was her friend, she felt it was alright to cheer him up without restraints.

Evelyn hummed and returned to the figures. “Will you make one of me?”

And his soul sighed with relief. “If you want.”

“I would love that.” She smiled at them. “I like them. And if you enjoy making them, I hope you never stop crafting.”

“Well, I have an addictive personality.” He scoffed. “I don’t think I could stop even if I tried. Though I have no use of my skill. I can’t sell them, or give them away. They are just my decor.”

Though, he had no idea what became of the two figurines he had exchanged for the rabbit a few days ago.

Her lips spread wide. “Decor has purpose. It makes a place feel like home.” She looked upwards, to an upper shelf. “You make funny animals and beasts, too!”

“I do.” He took one down for her. A fox standing upright with an apron on, holding a broom. “This is miss Vixen.” He presented her. “She lives in the Lilac forest with all of her friends, who adore her wits and kindness.” He gave miss Vixen to Evelyn.

Evelyn looked at the fox in her hand. Sparkling at the sight of it. “She’s popular, huh?”

“Of course she is.” Caleb shrugged happily. “She’s stubborn, brave, takes no nonsense. Kind of like someone I know.”

Evelyn stroked the wooden fox-human. “I love her.”

“Then you can have her–”

“REALLY?” She beamed.

“Y-Yes! Haha, yes Evelyn. You can have any ones you like.”

She gasped and turned up to the shelf again. “Who is her best friend?”

Caleb plucked down the half-wolf man. “Mister Wolf, the huntsman.”

“No, not a huntsman.”

“Alright. Mister Wolf the… uh, woodsman.” And handed him to her. “There, her best friend.”

“Thank you, Caleb.” And she made miss Vixen peck mister Wolf on the cheek as thanks. And saw how that made Caleb’s face turn red. He began to cough and turned away from her to wheeze and hack into his sleeve.

Evelyn rubbed his back. “We shouldn't get so excited when you’re ill, you are straining yourself.”

He waved a hand. “I’m good..!”

“No you’re not!” She lightly smacked him on the head and heard him scoff through another cough. “Take your shoes off and get in bed.”

She turned to his breakfast, it was cold now. She twirled her finger and heated it up. The porridge with nuts and crushed cinnamon began to steam. She frowned at it as she gave it to him.

“Porridge? You need more than that.”

“It’s just breakfast, and I’m not going anywhere. Usually a man in my age should have a wife by now who’d cook breakfast and do the chores, then she would make dinner for me to bring to work. Then at at my return home there would be a small supper waiting. But I don’t have a wife, so... Pip and I usually make dinner for breakfast, to last longer during the day, then we have supper together at home.”

He held the bowl up.

“This is a typical breakfast, not dinner, since I am not going anywhere.”

Evelyn tilted her head. “What about lunch?”

Caleb laughed. “I’m a working man, Evelyn. Lunch is for people a bit above my station.”

Evelyn hummed and fished out her book from her basket, and he chuckled.

“You brought it?”

“I bring it everywhere!” She smiled and wrote down her notes. “This is very interesting! Your cast system isn’t too different from ours, except ours is more.. Hm.. Based on magical ability.”

“Oh?” He cuddled down in his bed, happy to hear about her realm. “Tell me about it.”

She began to sparkle. “Oh! Uh- Really? Okay! Um- Well!” And flapped her hands happily. “Well! Alright! Oh, I got all excited now, wait, haha, oh, give me a moment I wasn’t ready!” 

Evelyn patted her cheeks to calm her head down a bit. Caleb just smiled and ate his porridge.

“Okay, okay!” She shook her hands, the feather pen flapping. “So, the more powerful you are, the better! Basically, if you’re very powerful, you are kind of expected to do great things - especially within the field of magic that comes most naturally to you. Like, plants! Or, like my father who is a healer; healing! And then from there you can build a business of off it! And that business can grow into a huge enterprise that your children and descendants can also work for, cultivating and expanding that particular field of magic. So some families are more elite than others, and marrying into them is very good for status and cultivating a stronger branch of magical ability!”

Caleb nodded, trying to imagine it all.

“It is good to have wild magic in the family. Meaning, the more types of magic you are able to do fluently, the better! Unless you’re a family that have a powerful branch already, then they pretty much only want to marry other witches that do the same magic. As that allows them to grow powerful in at least ONE magic type. Er, basically this; Jack of all trades is best to be, but if you’re not a jack of all, then master of one is best achieved.”

“I see.” Caleb scooped up a spoonful. “So.. Are you doing this research stuff because it’s.. Biological science what-have-you, and your father is a doctor of sorts? I’m guessing your family’s, uh, branch, was it? Is healing magic?”

She laughed. “No, no! My family is a blend of talents! My father’s family, the Clawthornes, were branched in potion magic! I wouldn’t say the Clawthorne family is an elite family, but we are up there amongst the relevant names. But my father’s expertize is healing, so his potion knowledge was combined with that. My mother’s family are branched in potion magic users too, like her. Her parents didn’t want her to marry a healer, because they wanted to climb socially. Her family is.. Actually.. Pretty important. They had hoped my dad was potion first healing second, but he wasn’t. So they felt like she married down.”

Caleb arched his brows, ever so attentive to gossip. “Really?” And smiled. “Scandalous. And for love, too! How romantic.”

“Right?” Evelyn sparkled. “So my mom tries to make up for it, a lot… Grandma is really rough on her. Doesn’t help that my sisters and I are also kind of.. Aversive? We don’t really do what our parents do. So we are considered a declining branch in my mother’s family tree.”

Caleb gaped. “No! You, aversive? Can’t believe it.” He said it with a smile, but his sarcasm flew her by.

“No really! I am! Though, one of my sisters is a poet, her magic preference is music, but I think she’s kind of unhappy with it, if her letters are any to go by. she is looking into other magic courses at the moment. My other sister does healing! But she also does abomination.”

“And.. You?” Caleb peered at her, putting his bowl away after being done with it. “What’s yours, then? Er, illusions?” He remembered the birds she had made when they met.

She laughed. “Oh, I don’t have a preference.” She smiled sadly and down into her book. “I’m uh… I’m all of them. Actually. I’m one of those Jack of all sorts of person.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, it’s fantastic, actually. Like I said, it’s the best you can be. The more varied you are, the more powerful! Especially if you’re well-versed in all the subjects. I am one of the best witches on the whole Boiling Isles, there’s like.. Me and a handful of, I dunno, five others? One being the priestess. People kind of expect me to rise to the level and aspiration of taking a priestess role. But I don’t... want… to.”

Caleb stared at her.

Evelyn stroked her pages.

“Wait– what?” Caleb scooted up. “You’re– You are one of THE greatest witches of your entire realm?”

“Um.. Yeah.”

“And you’re unhappy about that? You’re a witch! Shouldn’t you be stoked about that?!”

“I know I come across as ungrateful for my talent. But it’s just that what I want is to write my book. And I don’t even need magic to do that! But I.. I dunno, it’s my magic, I should be doing with it whatever I please! Everyone says I’m wasting my potential, that I should be doing greater things than... What makes me happy. And everyone who likes me just wants to.. you know.. Climb socially, I guess.”

Caleb crossed his arms and looked her up and down. “Is that why you like our realm so much? We’re not magical, and any magic is just like any other magic to us?”

“Maybe? I dunno.” She scribbled crowfeet on the edge of her page and shrugged. 

“Oi...” He said and kicked out his leg to bump on her knee. She lifts her golden eyes to meet his kind brown. “If it helps any, I am impressed even by the little things you’ve shown me. The fact you can just... Twirl your finger and heat food is incredible! If I had magic, I would use it for the most mundane things ever! Shine my shoes, prim my coat, slice the cheese!”

She giggled. “Yeah, but.. You know… I’m supposed to use it for better things.”

“Oh you hypocrite!” He slapped the air and puffed. “Look, you just told me that my figurines had purpose simply by it being a fun pastime for me. I mean, if we think about it, I could be carving big statues or whatever! Right? But I’m not! I could be doing intricate woodwork on people’s houses, for payment, but I’m n ot. I like making my fables, even though it doesn't have use for ~greater things~!”

Caleb jazzed his hands sarcastically and plucked down a winged deer from the window and held it up in the daylight that came through the glass.

“Look at this thing. I just made it because I thought of a dumb story nobody will ever hear, that won’t be important to anyone else. I  was in the forest, daydreaming about things that only entertains me. They’re not even half bad, but I’m no official artist, so I can’t do anything with it.”

He put it back.

“Is it a waste of time, then, because I won’t get paid or famous for it? Because it.. For a moment there.. Gave me some bliss with myself.”

Caleb turned to her and Evelyn was watching the deer in the window. She looked at miss Vixen and mister Wolf in her lap, too.

And, in the midst of trying to lecture her, his heart found something he’d never dared to offer to himself. But because it was Evelyn, and because she needed the consolation, he dared voicing it now:

“Why is serving ourselves any less meaningful, Ev? Can’t that be great too…? Imagine that, being content. People can search a lifetime for just a fraction of that kind of ease with yourself. I think it’s okay if you want to just, y’know, do what you like ‘cus you like it.”

Evelyn felt an invisible cape drop from her shoulders. Caleb lay there in his bed, talking all nonchalantly, and had handed back to her the same grace she had given him earlier. She hadn’t thought of it like that before. And it was nice. Very nice.

“It isn’t less meaningful.” She said, only now realising she had only ever extended that freedom to everyone else but herself. And now when Caleb held the mirror up to her, she saw her mishap and thought; Oh! That’s right! I should offer that to myself too!

“You’re right Caleb.” She said. “I like using my magic for myself, however I want it. No matter how other people are trying to make feel bad about it, I like it. It’s mine, it makes me happy, and that’s all it needs to do.”

And her smile spread across her lips like the sun had skipped winter and went straight into spring. Caleb got lost in it. He hadn’t been ready.

All he thought he had done was turn her words back around at her, he thought it would have made her understand why he wouldn’t allow himself the air to enjoy things. That, see! Look! It’s complicated! You can’t just do things and be happy because, see? There are things in the way.

But that’s not what Evelyn heard. And now, in turn, Caleb was floored by her self-acceptance, like it really was just that easy. The noose around his neck untangled just a bit, and he inhaled a breath for the first time in forever.

“Thank you for reminding me.” She said, and held the wooden best friends in her hands again. She smiled at them both. “I almost forgot to be nice to myself, too.”

“Uh, sure. You’re welcome.” And felt his neck and ears burn.

“You are sweet to me.”

“Uh- No, ahem.” Caleb coughed and shifted his eyes away. Stuttering as he flapped a hand. “No, not at all, I’m just honest.”

“Well, it’s really nice that you are. People aren’t that forward with me, usually, and I can’t always understand sarcasm or… Hidden meaning, you know? It’s so difficult to decipher what people mean.”

“Is that so?” That did explain some things for him. “Well, sometimes people talk in roundabout ways to avoid hurting your feelings.”

“Well, it will hurt anyway, won’t it? I much rather people just tell me straight out.”

“Perhaps.” Caleb itched his nose. “Well, then, if you prefer frankness, I will do my best to be honest but nice.”

“I will return it! I think communication is important.”

He chuckled. “Honestly, Ev, I don’t think you’re capable of being dishonest.”

“I can be dishonest!”

Caleb crooked a brow at her.

“I can!”

“Oh yeah? Lie to me.”

“Right away? Okay, um… Uh… I think… Hm.. I think it is silly you think you look less ill just because you brushed your hair.”

He stroked a bang behind his ear and clicked his tongue. “...I… I feel like maybe that wasn’t a lie, actually.”

“...No, it.. it wasn’t. Sorry…”

And he cracked up, slapping his knee. “See? I said you couldn’t do it! And you even put effort into that one!”

She puffed her cheeks. “You caught me off guard! I can– When it matters!” But he continued laughing at her. “Oh you–! As if you can do better!”

“I can!”

“Alright, lie!” She crossed her arms and pouted.

“Very well.” Caleb moved to sit cross-legged in his bed, grinning. “I lied about the breakfast, lunch, dinner, supper thing earlier. It’s not a social status thing at all, I just said it to see if you’d take my word about humans on anything, and you did.”

She blinked. “Wait, really?”

“...No Evelyn. I’m lying right now about having lied about it.”

“Oh. Wait– what? So it’s.. Not true?”

“No it is.”

“So you– You and Philip do have.. Supper…but not lunch, because of the... er...”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

She scratched her temple and looked into her book, worried that it might not be true at all. Then back up at Caleb’s smug grin; that was a good lie, she couldn’t even tell if he was lying now about lying earlier or not, even if she had prompted him.

“Oh, you are the worst!” She laughed and Caleb shrugged his hands out, proud of himself. ”Don’t lie about human stuff! It’s too important to me!”

Evelyn twirled her finger and Caleb’s pillow flew into the side of his head. He laughed, until the covers began to wrestle him down too.

“Ah! No! Mercy!” He kicked, pushing at the pillow patting down against his face. “Oi– Hey! Mercy! Be nice! I’m just a poor sick human!”

“That’s what you get for teasing me!” She snorted, but made the pillow stop. Evelyn leaned over his bed and Caleb removed the pillow from his face. The sunshine made her hair more vibrant, and her golden eyes shone brightly down at him. “You silly human man.”

The thought of how pretty she was hit him like another slap of the pillow.

Caleb nervously chuckled.

She looked him up and down. “You know what you need, Caleb? To look less ill. Maybe even be less ill?”

“No..?”

“A bath.”

“A bath.” Caleb grimaced. “Good luck with that chore.”

“Mh?” She cocked her head to the side, still peering down at him like a little cat. “Chore?”

Flustered, remembering she was a woman, and he was in bed, he pushed the pillow against her face. She sputtered. He ducked under it and sat up.

“Yes, chore. You’d have to boil the water, fill the tub.. It takes forever. Besides, I already had a wash today.”

“A wash, when? Didn’t you just wake up when I came?”

Caleb gestured at the basin of water. Evelyn stared at it like it had offended her family and their butler.

“No.” She said. “What, how?”

“Splash my face, use the rag to-”

“No, no-no, no. A real wash.” And then she paused. “When was the last time you had an actual, like, bath.”

“Uhhhh…” Caleb squinted, having to think. “Abooouut.. uh..”

“The fact you can’t remember is horrifying. And disgusting.”

Caleb found himself embraced by the blanket, and it shoved him out of bed.

“Come along. I saw you had a basement door. Do you keep your bathroom down there for better access to water?”

“Uhhh… Bathroom?”

Evelyn stopped in the doorway. Caleb blinked at her.

“You don’t have a bathroom?”

“No..?”

“Where do you… You know.. Pee and stuff?”

“Outside? We have an outhouse.”

“Oh sweet Titan. Okay. Chop chop, basement. We’re doing some magic.”

“Errrm.. what sort of magic– Woah- Hey!” The blanket, acting like a cape, kept shuffling him forward. “Hey, hey easy! There are stairs! And– And don’t use magic in the house! What if someone sees!” He desperately tried to push back at the sail but had to give up as it smothered him, and he had to give up and turn around, allowing it to push him to the bottom of the stairs.

He sniffled sickly and pouted at her.

She smiled innocently.

“Caleb, you live right by the forest. Your neighbours are a good fifteen minutes away.”

“They could come by! For.. Like.. Sugar or something!”

“Why would they do that?”

“Baking?”

“Does that often happen?”

“........No. My house is supposedly cursed.”

Evelyn snorted and gestured all around them. “Well then.”

“I am sick! I have friends! They could come by for a visit! You don’t know!”

“Have they?”

“....No…”

“WELL, THEN.”

“THEY COULD!”

She laughed.

“It’s not funny, Evelyn! It’s dangerous! Not in the house where someone could see!”

“Okay, alright!” She opened the door to the basement. She had been right, there was a basement. “Let's go down here, then, where nobody gets to seeee the maaaagic~!”

She ooo’ed as she descended, and Caleb rolled his eyes, draping the blanket around himself as he walked down. He wished he still had his shoes on.

As he came downstairs, he removed his socks. There were only half a floor down there, the rest was earth. It smelled earthy and damp down there, like wet rocks and dirt.

Evelyn conjured into the air a few lit candlesticks to illuminate the dark basement. Caleb watched them float like silent ballerinas around the room. He let one bounce on his finger, and watched it slowly hit the ceiling and briefly snuff out before re-igniting again when it sauntly glided downwards.

Evelyn saw how Caleb’s eyes filled with wonders. He tightened the blanket around himself and coughed, but his awe never left him.

All around, Evelyn saw sacks of onions and dried herbs. There were jars sealed with wax and bottles as well. One jar, as she approached it, looked like it was packed full of something meaty.

“What is the basement used for?”

Caleb shuttered. “It’s cold, so we keep our food here.”

“Does all humans?”

“Pretty much.”

“What’s with all the onions?”

“Cheap, last long, savoury, good nutrients, easy to sow, grows quick. You can make a lot with it too; pie, pudding, stew, sauce, soup, you name it.”

“And these?”

“Don’t open those. I’ve sealed them, and it smells putrid sometimes. It is best to open outdoors, just in case. It’s meat in vinegar, mostly.”

“Oh.” Evelyn leaned away from it and turned around to a table. The corner of it was dribbling with candle wax, tools for woodwork hung on the walls by its sides and on top of the table lay a stool upside down.

“That’s just my work corner, ignore it. I’m fixing some stuff.”

“You are very handy, aren’t you.”

He smiled. “A bit.”

She looked around on the ground, inspecting it, stomping it.

“Look, Evelyn, I appreciate your concern in my appearance and health, but I doubt I will be cleaner down here than upstairs. So–”

She stomped the ground again, hard, and from the earth shot up a sarcophagus-shaped gathering of stones. Caleb jumped in surprise at the stones suddenly unearthing themselves. She spread her hands over it, golden shimmer glossed around the rocks and the dirt poured off it. Evelyn flicked her fingers, something sealing the space in-between the rocks that Caleb could only guess was some kind of dark soil from deep below. She dried it. It sealed. 

She pointed her finger to the wall like she was going to shoot it, bit her lip, aimed and shot. In the wall, a hole opened. And all around the hole came a face of an owl that protruded out like a tube. Caleb stared at the tube owl slowly leaning out over the, er, stone bath. It tilted it’s head and began to barf hot steaming water.

Caleb’s eyes were saucers and his brows must have hit the ceiling.

“Well..!” He said, and glanced at Evelyn, who looked so happy and excited to present this to him. She even did a little ta-da pose. “..Wow..!” He said, giving her a small and frightened applaud.

“Eeee! Thank you!” She wiggled back and forth. “You’re going to love it!”

“Uh– Sure! Um, you can get rid of it, too, right?”

“Of course! Why, don’t you like it?”

“I do…! Just, uh, see. I have this little brother who DOESN’T know you’re a witch! And, last time he checked the basement, we didn’t have… That!”

“Oh! Duh, right, of course! I will get rid of it afterwards!”

“Good..! Thanks.”

“So?”

“Mh?”

She nodded to it.

“What?”

“Get in!”

“What, now? With you here?”

“Why not?”

“Be-because–” He rubbed his face. How many times did he need to explain this. “I’m a man, you’re a woman–”

“So? We’re friends!”

“We- But- No! No Evelyn! I can’t undress in front of you!” He draped the blanket around himself as if she could see through his clothes. “It is inappropriate!”

“Oh, right, I forgot about all of that.” She hummed, furrowed her brows. “Even when we are friends now?”

“Yes! It’s– It’s– It invites impurity!”

“Impurity?”

“Yes, like– Thoughts of lust and– things?”

“But.. We’re just friends.”

“Is it common in the demon realm to run around naked with your mates?”

“No, of course not. But in the hot springs, I mean, we don’t care as much? You don’t ogle or anything. We usually just cover the bottom bits with a towel or our underwear, but we don’t care about chests, and it’s not like anything will happen just because we’re nude. It is normal? It’s just a body.”

“That’s incredibly– Not, uh– I can’t even picture it.” Rather, he was trying really hard not to picture it. “Evelyn, someone could take advantage of you like that.”

“I’d like to see them try.” She twirled her finger and the water stopped pouring. The bath steamed invitingly.

Caleb looked between the bath and Evelyn, who was gesturing at the bath.

He hugged the blanket tighter. “No..!” And blushed. “No! I-I don’t want you to see me.”

“Oh! Would it make you feel better if we bathed together–”

“NO!!!”

“Oh–! Oh okay! Yikes. Just a suggestion!”

Caleb was turning as red as a tomato. He inhaled and exhaled. “Could you– Just– Stop being so suggestive , please?”

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be.”

“I know.” He sighed. “Just.. Just please assume that everything nude or even slightly– erm, erotic, should be, er, not happening.”

“Okay.” She smiled, not sure how it was erotic at all, and patted him lightly on the shoulder, and he sighed. “How about I turn around?”

“Or, here’s a better suggestion: leave? I know how to bathe myself. I don’t need help.”

“Aw…”

“You’re disappointed?”

“Weeeell…” She twirled her fingers around one another. “I mean… Physiologically, I’ve never actually seen a human nude before, only in drawings.”

She curled her lips in and glanced up at him.

He stared at her.

She blinked sweetly.

“No.”

“Oh please! Pretty, pretty please! Caleb! I won’t be invasive about it! Strictly professional! Academically! Medical!” She saluted.

“Absolutely not.”

“You know, there’s a rumour humans have four nipples?”

“Wha- huh?” Caleb shook his head. “No! We don’t, I could just tell you that.”

“Awww…” She glanced at the water. “Oh! How about just wearing your undergarments, eh? That’s not nude  or–”

“Evelyn!”

“Alright… Sorry, I’m just curious.”

He grumbled and rubbed his face. She looked so disappointed. “Augh… See– No! See! This is how the devil gets you.”

“Huh?”

“This is how the devil works. He’s iiinnn your head Evelyn, he’s making you say these things to allure me, but I won’t give into that temptation! I’m saving both of us here!”

“... What are you on about?”

“The devil works this way, invisibly. Right here, between us. I almost agreed to you!”

“Really?!” She sparkled.

“Ack! No! Evelyn! Stop! I won’t do it, I don’t want to!”

“Caleb, if you’re that shy, I won’t make you–”

“I’m not SHY. I’m not–” Somehow he managed to get redder, Evelyn saw it spread down his neck. “I-I just–” And he put a hand over his eyes. “You’re.. A girl, Evelyn… For yours and mine's dignities sake, we can’t be seen in each other's presence like that.”

“I understand, I think?”

He stroked his hand down to his mouth, watching her apprehensively. “Okay..”

“Right, how about this: I still want to keep you company, so..” She stomped the floor again, and up came a hedge of soil between the bath and the rest of the room. “There! Privacy! And I can just see your head if you stand up!”

“... You’re not tricking me, right?”

“How would I?”

He poked the hedge. “It’s real, right? Not an illusion like the candles?”

“Oh, you meant like that. No, I wouldn’t. I admit I’m disappointed because I’m curious, but that doesn’t mean I get to make you feel bad about it! You’re entitled to your privacy and I shall respect it.”

“..Thank you.” He itched his cheek and walked to one side of the wall, Evelyn to the other. He felt awkward undressing, knowing she was in the same room. Not only that, but he could still see her over the hedge line, and she waved at him. Flustered, he ducked away.

Just in case, he decided to bathe with his undergarments on.

As he stood there, he wondered to himself how he had been talked into having a bath? This was his home, dammit! Evelyn had this strange power of convincing him to go along with things. He supposed that should alarm him somewhat… She is a witch, after all. But it did look nice, and when he got into it, he sank down and let out a soft moan.

He wished he could do this more often. Only now did he realize how much his body had been aching.

“Is it nice?”

He quickly shut himself up. “Uh- Yes-! very!”

Over the wall came a bar of soap wrapped in a towel. It landed straight into the water.

“Sorry! Did I hit you?”

“No, It’s alright!”

But this was a towel, not a rag. And the soap was fine and expensive. Caleb looked at them both in his hands and felt like he might ruin them.

“Erm, Evelyn?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure? This looks expensive.”

“No, no, you go ahead.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah. I brought it for you.”

“Oh.” Caleb pressed the bit of the towel that wasn’t wet yet to his face. It was so soft and clean. Like goose feathers. He closed his eyes and soaked in the warmth and the softness. “You are spoiling me.”

“It’s just soap.”

Just soap , she said. As though this quality of fabric and soap didn’t cost as much as two healthy chickens.

Caleb cleaned himself, and watched the white cotton turn dark. He really was filthier than he had thought he was. But she had said it was fine.

“So,” Evelyn started, taking a seat by Caleb’s desk, and imagined him working there without any daylight. “Can I ask about human biology, then?” And began to doodle in her book.

“Sure. I mean, as long as it’s about men. I know nothing of women.”

“You don’t?”

“How could I?”

“Don’t they teach you?”

“No.”

“Then how do you… Huh… I guess that makes sense, then, for why you’re so frazzled about bodies and stuff.”

Evelyn dusted off some whittled wood from the desk. She saw drops of something dark staining the surface, and she deduced that cutting wood in this dark room was probably a hazard. The tools were old, some rusty with an attempt to get rid of the rust evident across them. Accidents must happen.

“I’m not shy.” He huffs. “I’m reasonable. The fact you’re in the room while I’m here like this is– Honestly, too much.”

“Well, in that case, thank you for allowing it.”

Caleb heard her tone but couldn’t decipher what it meant. Maybe she really was just grateful. He sank down under the surface and swayed his hair free, he pulled the ribbon and stroked his hand through before he sat back up.

He had half expected to catch her peer over the edge of the short wall, but she wasn’t.

The water was murky from how hot it was, and the steam coiled in the cold air of the basement. He let his shoulders be submerged and stroked the towel over his arms.

He could sleep here. Perhaps sink under forever. The thought hit him that falling asleep and drown might be nice.

“Caleb?” Evelyn peeped over the edge, and Caleb crossed his arms over his chest.

“Evelyn!”

“Sorry! You weren’t replying!” She ducked away. “Geez..”

“I didn’t hear you. I was underwater.”

“Sorryyy.”

“What were you asking?”

Evelyn held up her book over the hedge, and Caleb stared at a detailed illustration of a penis.

“Uh–”

“Does male humans look like this?”

“Uh- Yes– How– You drew that?! Why do you know that?!”

“Oh! So yours really are the same as ours, then! Interesting! Well, witches, anyway.”

Caleb gaped to ask what she meant but thought better of it. And the book sank down like a sun over the horizon. Caleb blinked.

“Have you.. Pardon, Evelyn, may I ask something intrusive?”

“Sure!”

“Do– Have you seen one?”

“Yep.”

“Uh… In.. What context? Medical?”

“Hahaha, no, my lovers. I’ve had two, one man, one woman.”

Caleb stared at the wall. “Oh.”

“What?”

“Nothing…!”

“That sounded judgemental.”

“No! No, no, I just.. I’m surprised, is all. You don’t come across as… That sort of woman.”

“What sort?”

Caleb walked right into that one. “A uh.. you know?”

“No, I don’t.”

He could hear her cross her arms over there, and he cringed.

“Er, never mind.”

“Nooo, no, say it.”

“... It’s a little.. Tramp-y isn’t it?”

Evelyn’s head slowly peered over the hedge to throw him a glare. Caleb sank under the surface to hide.

“I mean, look, for us humans, it is. You should know that by now!”

Evelyn slowly sank back over the edge. “You guys are such puritans– Oh! I just got why they call you that now!”

Caleb muttered. “Most Christians are! It’s not just us!”

“Ugh, I will never understand how it makes sense to you people to hate everything that feels nice.”

“Evelyn, too much of pleasure isn’t good for you. You shouldn’t do that stuff, not until you have a husband. You could become pregnant–” And it dawned on him. “..Do you.. have children?”

“No, I don’t.”

“But you’ve.. done, you know.”

“Sex?”

“That, yes.”

“You can say it, you know. Nothing bad will happen.”

“Maybe not to you.”

She sighed. “Yes, I’ve done it. But so what, so have you.”

Caleb was quiet.

“… Haven’t you?”

“Of course not. I’m waiting for marriage. Besides, I’m not the sort to have a one-night of gallivanting.”

“Okay. But.. What if you like someone and, you know?”

“I will refrain until I wed her.”

“Or him!”

“I can’t wed a man, Evelyn.”

“But what if you fall in love with a man? Won’t you lay with him then? In that case, marriage isn’t even on the table, right?”

“Of course not. It is still wrong. I will abstain.”

“Because.. You.. Don't want to have sex? That’s fine too!”

Caleb scoffed. “What? Of course I want to! I just can't!”

“Of course you can.”

“I cannot. It’s immoral, and I would never put anyone through that sort of disgrace.”

“It’s not a disgrace, it’s lovely and fun! Lots of fun, and it feels good. And if you want to do it, there are safe ways to do so.”

“Nothing is safe with lust.”

“You’ve never done it, or even seem to know anything about it, how would you know?”

Caleb pulled his leg in to hug it, the undergarment was wet and plastered over his knee.

“I know enough… ” He said tiredly. “I know that giving into it is just one mistake away from making life hell for a poor woman. And if the man doesn’t step up and marry her, she’ll be ruined, as well as her unborn. I could never just… Not just for some pretty face and a warm, soft, night. It’s not worth it.”

Evelyn sat quiet for a while, the candles floated around in the room and somewhere behind that hedge of earth sat Caleb in the bath and had that sad and far-off gaze in his eyes. She just knew it. She sighed.

“Is this about… The slags, stuff, again?”

“... Yeah.”

“Because… You two were orphans?”

Caleb didn’t reply, he just hugged his other leg to himself and let the cold air brush his neck as he leaned onto his knees.

“Caleb?”

“Mh.”

“How young were you when your parents died?”

“Never saw my father. I was about… I think ten when mother died. Phillip was three.”

“Did you have nobody else?”

“No. Just us.” He stroked his fingers over the stilled water, the steam coiled. “But I had God, and prayers. And sometimes that helped. Praying to God felt like I had a parent listening, somewhere. I had nobody else to ask or turn to.”

Evelyn walked to the hedge and dared to stand around it’s side. Caleb sat with his back to her.

He shrugged. “Just.. Kind of.. Y’know. I didn’t know what I was doing half the time. Pip was hungry a lot, I panicked sometimes. I regret losing my temper and yelling, he was just a baby, you know. He didn’t know better. I was grateful for the church. I could put him there while I worked, I got to know people that taught me things. I had to steal, lie, cheat.. I’m not proud of it. I had to be my own parent, most of the time. Philip had me to comfort him, but I… I couldn’t fall apart in front of him, he’d just be scared, I’m all he has. I have to be selfless for him, if I show I can’t take care of us I’m, haha, I don’t know. It feels like death.”

He closed his eyes and sank down further, his knees two hills in the smokey waters. Caleb lowered his hands into the water to see how far down he could see them, but they disappeared from his vision nearly right away.

A candle floated above the bath, and he looked up at it. The light coloured the surface in gold.

“That sounds really rough.”

Caleb looked over his shoulder and to her. He scooted to the corner of the bath to make sure he was shielded properly. But Evelyn remained where she stood, and he supposed he didn’t mind the company of a friend as much.

“Mh.” He replied, spreading the little towel over his shoulder to cover himself up more.

“But, you know, I think it’s sad you deprive yourself of things you want, just because your God says it makes you bad. I don’t think wanting to be desired, or desire someone you like, is bad.”

“Making love takes two people to want it, anyway. I am hardly a catch. Especially now after yesterday.”

“Do you even want a wife?”

“No.”

“A boyfriend?”

He shook his head.

“You sound like you do. You sound lonely. What about that Nashoba guy–”

“He has a wife, and he’s, like, ten years older than me. I’m pretty sure he’s just humouring my friendship. Most of my friends are men, and much older, anyway. Honestly, I think they just… Like me as a person, and they know I’m on my own with Pip. So they pity me. But not even they would recommend me to an eligible woman they know, I think anyway? They never introduced or suggested any to me.”

He chuckled sadly and cupped his hand full of water.

“I mean, I don’t mind. Besides, I have Philip to think about, I don’t have time for women.”

Evelyn dared to come closer, and sat down on the ground with the hedge as back support, just nearly behind the bath. Caleb glanced down at her, she looked up at him.

“That’s really sad, Caleb. I hope you know you deserve better.”

“Do I? I have hardly been perfect.”

“You don’t have to be perfect to be loved.”

“I am likeable, not loveable. I got nothing to offer a woman, even if I liked her, all I have is my heart on my sleeve and that’s not enough to get by. I know, because that’s how I’ve lived. A good husband provides. I can barely right now as it is with just me and Pip.”

He exhaled and got lost in the distant dark corner of the basement. He saw some masks he had made, some figurines. Each a fairytale he had made for, or played with, his brother.

“It’s okay, though, I already know how my story ends. It doesn’t end with a wedding, Ev, that’s ridiculous. The best I can hope for is that my brother does well, and he settles down with someone he loves, or someone that at least loves him. It would be nice, I think, if he got a better life, and his children could have better than what we had. I could come over for Christmas! And see them. And.. And that would be nice.”

“And… Then what?”

“Dunno. Nothing? I will toil with work, ‘till it breaks me, I guess? Like with most men around here like me.” He chuckles. “When it gets too much, I could get drunk, in winter. Find a bit of snow, lay down, there under the stars. That way, it’s… an accident.”

Caleb smiled up at the candle above him.

“That would be nice, I think. It wouldn’t hurt that way. I think the best I can hope for is that it doesn’t hurt. And that maybe, after I’m gone, the pearly gates of heaven actually opens and I can rest there. No more work, no more stress, just rest.”

Caleb was surprised to not hear her respond with anything. So he turned to find her eyes wet and her lip sucked in.

“Oh! No! Uh– No! Not– Not now! Far, faaaar in the future! Look, no, sorry! Don’t listen to me! I’m a half-wit with nothing to–”

Evelyn got up on her knees and hugged him.

“Ah– Evelyn, careful, you will get wet–”

“So let me get wet, I don’t care.” And her shirt dipped into the water with her elbow. Caleb became too aware of his lack of clothes and his skin turned red.

“E-Evelyn I’m fine–” His voice cracked.

He met her tear-filled eyes and pink nose. She had changed, he could hear it in her tone and feel it in her skin against his cheeks.

“You don’t know me very well, yet, Caleb. But I chose my friends carefully and on purpose.”

The surrounding dark shielded them from all the world’s evil demons and judgemental angels, and all he heard were her whispers to him.

“On purpose Caleb. This is not just some every-day off-hand thing to me. If you thought I was difficult to get rid of before we were friends, you’ll find out that there’s no word for what I am, and persistent is not word enough.”

“Are you threatening me with friendship?”

“Yes.” She said, and squished his cheeks together. “If you want a wife or a boyfriend, I’ll help you find one. And if you don’t, and you’re old and lonely, I’ll just drag your sorry arse to my realm and make you stay with me. We can be old, wrinkly, and I’ll read my books, and you can make your figures.”

That sounded lovely.

A place far, far away, a distant land, a happily ever after that didn’t sound half bad. It flashed before him, she’s old and so was he, sharing a hot cup of something while she read aloud, and he laughed at something in the story, or maybe her silly voice acting.

He saw it, and felt its warmth, as though it was right there next to them. He wanted to be there. Just step in to that capsule like it was a real memory.

Caleb swallowed a lump down.

“You can’t just promise things like that, Evelyn.“ He whispered. “We– You can’t commit to someone you barely know.”

“I can.” 

She whispered with so much determination and fire it ignited him with something light, a feather of hope, that maybe he wasn’t as unlovable after all. The noose around his neck loosened just a bit more. His soul took another breath.

“I saw who you were, Caleb Wittebane. You don’t always get to know people quickly, but once in a while, with some luck, people just click. And you and I? We clicked.”

“See?” He sniffled, croaked, looking downwards. “I said you were a weird one.”

She tilted his face back up. “And you said you liked that I’m weird. And that you’re weird too.”

He tore up, and a smile wobbled out on his lips. “Hah- Ahaha, I doubt your future husband– or wife? Would like that I join you in your elderly days.”

“They’d just have to deal with it.” She grinned and wiped a tear from him. “I wouldn’t marry anyone who didn’t know what I’m like, anyway. If they don’t like that I adopt my sad and lonely friends, then they never knew me or loved me enough in the first place.”

“Oh, how couldn’t they?” He asked quietly. It just slipped out of him. “You’re...” And his words trailed. He got lost in her eyes.

“You too.” She said and pressed her forehead against his. “So don’t hope for something as little as the cold snow. Worst case scenario from now on is that I’ll spirit you away from here.”

His laugh was broken with gold between the cracks, and put his hand around her wrists to move her off of him.

“You are a riot.”

“Last I checked, you weren’t half bad, either.”

She nudged him on the shoulder over the damp towel, and he playfully shoved at her.

“Look at you, you got wet.” He pointed to her sleeves.

“And look at you! Two nipples.”

Caleb crossed his arms over his chest and blushed. She grinned. To punish her, he splashed her face. She gasped, followed by a cackling.

“That’s what you get!” He pointed at her, turning in on himself. “Perv!”

“Perv?!” She laughed and splashed at him back.

“Yes–” He chuckled, parrying her splash and shoved his palm at the surface towards her, she avoided it. “You peeping-tom!”

“Am not!”

“What do you call this, then?!”

“We’re friends! I was comforting you!” She spread her arms out wildly like he should understand it by now. “And I can’t even see anything- And you’re wearing underwear!”

“What happened to respecting my privacy?!” He slapped the surface again to splash her, for good measure. She sputtered and stroked her wet hair from her face.

“I am a lady! I always respect privacy! Unless they need a hug!”

“I did not need a hug!” He sank down into the water to hide. “You– You–”

“Oh, you need a hug. I never met anyone who needs more hugs than you ever in my life!”

He grumbled and sank down low enough to blow bubbles.

“Seriously, man.” She sighed and folded her arms over the edge of the bath to lean on top of them. “Are you okay?”

“... Yeah.”

“Promise? Because, like, you did try to-”

“C-Could you forget about that? It was a fluke!”

“A fluke. Trying to hang yourself is a fluke?”

“Argh!” He sank under the surface, and Evelyn watched the bubbles pop. She waited. And waited.

“Caleb…?”

He resurfaced and she knocked him on the head.

“Ow!”

“Don’t do that!”

“Wha- the- Ugh.”

“You worry me!”

“Stop worrying then!”

“I can’t! You make it difficult! If you can’t be nice to yourself, be nice to me! I don’t want you to be in pain… I know I can’t fix it or make it go away, but all I’m asking is that you let me know how you’re doing. Kay?”

“You’re not my doctor. I don’t want a friendship where you take care of me all the time. It’s pathetic.”

“So don’t give me reason to!” She knocked on his head again.

“Ow!”

“Promise!”

“I will try! I promise to try.”

“Good.”

She looked him up and down, and he gave her a surly look as he sank down into the waters again.

“Stop... You’re making me self-conscious.”

“Sorry, but again.. I could just join you–”

“NO.”

“Well, that’s on you. I’ve offered to make it equal now.”

“That’s not how that works– that’s– God, you’re strange.” He chuckled. And she smiled.

“But ah, Caleb, can I ask something?”

“Sure.” He flopped a hand, sighing. Whatever it was; she might as well ask now while his guard was down. Caleb was beginning to lose reason to hold onto his pious ways in her company. It almost felt silly around Evelyn, since she didn’t react within the same cultural references anyway.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but.. Do you eat enough? You’re a lot scrawnier than I thought. I mean.. Your face look kinda hollowed out, but I thought you were just lanky.”

“Erm… Look, Ev, it’s not something I can fix. We don’t have a lot of food, and I want Philip to have enough to both look and be healthy. He’s young, he gets really cranky when he’s hungry. He needs it more.”

“But you’re older, and taller, and you do physical labour don't you?”

He squirmed. “I’m aware I don’t look well. I try to make up for it.”

She plucked the ribbon from the surface of the water. “By being prim and proper, you mean?”

“Amongst some ways, yes.”

“I could.. You know–”

“Evelyn, don’t take care of me, please. Let me have some dignity.”

“You are too prideful.”

Caleb paused. “You.. Think so?”

“A bit, yeah. Why? Why do you look so sullen about it?”

“Well, it’s a sin to be–”

“Oh by the thorns of Titans . Really?! Well, alright! Okay! Well, in this case, sure! Yeah! A bit prideful. If that means you’ll let me help out a bit, at least over the winter months.”

“I dunno…”

“It would benefit your brother toooo~”

He glanced at her, she fluttered her lashes.

“Ugh, you play me like a violin.”

“Hehehehh, boopity boop~” She taped him on the nose and he sneezed. “Oh, right. Hey, are you done bathing?”

“I thought that was up to you, honestly. You’ve been ordering me around.”

“Right, sorry. You’ve soaked long enough, then, I think. Feel any better?”

“..Yes, actually.”

“Alright, get up then.”

He handed her the soap and remained.

“You want to stay down?”

“I’m still shielded by the water, so–”

“REALLY ? You’re still on about–”

“YES, REALLY! GO AWAY! I’m not standing up in front of you!”

“You are impossible!”

“And as established, the brand of impossible that you are doesn’t even have a word yet!”

“Fine! Gosh!” She walked around the hedge and out of sight. “You’re so strange.”

“ME?!”

“Yes!”

“You dare!” He laughed but got out. He looked over the hedge at her. “You’re the– Whatever. Could you give me my blanket, so I could dry up.”

“I have a towel for you, for that.”

“My blanket is fine.”

“But I brought it-”

“Stop giving me things!”

“I like giving things! And you don’t have a lot!”

“Evelyn, for future reference’s sake: Pointing things like that out might make people feel small.”

“Oh.” She put a hand to her lips. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s fine. Just… I try to have things! You know?”

“For sure, right. Of course.” And she handed him the blanket.. And the towel. “But I did bring it. Soooo…”

He sighed, but she saw his smile. “Very well, thank you.” And he saw her little beam of a smile. She was hard to say no to.

He regretted bathing in his undergarments now, as they were too wet to wear. But he removed them, dried up, got dressed and wrapped the blanket around himself, socks in hand. He wringed out his underwear and bundled them up in his fist, not wanting Evelyn to look at them.

“There.” He announced, and she gave him his ribbon. “Could you remove all of this now, then?”

“Yup!”

Evelyn slapped two magic circles together in her hands, and both the hedge and the bath sank into the floor with a rumble. The water-barfing owl in the wall merged backwards and disappeared, there were no trace of a hole. All the water spilled out over the muddy floor and the floorboards. Caleb lift his blanket up to keep it from getting wet.

“Ops.” She grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.” And the water sank into the mud.

“It’s fine.” Caleb sighed and went upstairs, Evelyn soon behind him.

Caleb found a chair to sit on and put his socks on. The first floor was a dirty and cold, so he looked around and found his boots to thread on as well. Evelyn easily made the fire ignite in his cooking area, and it sparked and cracked against the dry wood and coal. When she wasn't looking, he threw his wet garments on the floor under the table and out of sight.

“It must be nice.” Caleb sniffed. “Having magic. It’s so convenient.”

“It is!” She said, and poked around on the food she had unpacked there earlier. “Buuut.. It doesn’t leave much to imagination. I mean, humans are innovative. Your way may be slower, but your methods have its own beauty.”

Caleb shrugged. “I could do without having to make a fire every day, honestly. Just snap my fingers and it appears would be better.”

“You think so? I like the way you do it. It has a romance to it.”

“Romance?”

“Yes, it’s so… Purposeful. Like your wood crafts.” She looked upwards at the shelf full of ceramic pots and pans, plates and wooden bowls. She took down the large wooden one and stroked her fingers over the artistic edges. “It has so much heart in it. That’s what magic really is about. It’s like art. Saying that the way you humans do things doesn’t matter, is like saying these edges here, with the patterns, are pointless add-ons.”

“They’re not exactly needed.”

“But it adds so much more, doesn’t it?” She put some apples the Wittebanes kept to the side into it and put it on the table beside him, the tablecloth underneath. Evelyn entwined her hands and sighed happily at the sight of it. “Look, it just feels so much more like a home, doesn’t it?”

“Does it?”

“You don’t think so, because you don’t know otherwise. But I think it’s a luxury to have so much art in your home. I’d love to have things like this in my home… It’s so pretty.”

Caleb blinked at his bowl, he had never thought of it as art. “It’s just a bowl.”

“A nice bowl, that took time to make, I bet. And even when it was done, you still gave it some personality.”

“Well, didn’t feel right otherwise.” Caleb shrugged.

“How so?”

Caleb itched his chin, he could feel some fuzz of a beard coming in. “I’m not sure. I just know it is not done yet until it has that little.. Thing, that makes it.”

“That’s what I am talking about!” Evelyn tap-tap-tapped her fingers over his shoulders and he crooked a brow and his smile followed her as she walked behind him and around the table.

“Oh?”

“Yes! That’s what we lack! We have some people who do designs and things like that. Artists. But we don’t have THIS. This.. Spirit of it. Our art looks nice. It is nice. We have aesthetics, fashion, and furniture with designs. But… Humans just make unique things. You don’t make an exact copy each time. We don’t have that. Magic makes it easier to make an identical piece. It lacks heart. Human crafts feel like every single thing, each bowl, each chair, has its own name! A story.”

Caleb looked at his bowl, the red and green apples were polished all nicely and made a pretty picture. She was right. Without the rim pattern in the bowl, it didn’t quite hold up the same way.

“I like stories.” Caleb admitted.

“I can tell. Hey, while I cook us something, why don’t you tell me a story then?”

He got bashful, rubbing his neck. “Alright… What would you like to hear?”

“Tell me how miss Vixen and mister Wolf became friends.”

“Okay.”

Caleb snuggled the surrounding blanket around himself and coughed.

“Miss Vixen had just come out of her hole in the Lilac forest, dressed in her apron…”

And he told her how she met the hare, who told her mister Wolf was looking at the sky. And how miss Vixen made her way to the big oak tree.....

She looked by the oak tree, but he wasn’t there. But the deer was. He told her to look by the cliffs, but he was not there either, but the owl was. She told her to look by the cranberry bogs, but he wasn’t there either, but the snake was.

“Oh where is he, I have looked all day and the skies are getting sleepy! Please tell me you know where he is, he is the only fable I haven’t met yet.”

“He follows the skies as they move and change,” said the snake. “And now I bet you will find him not by his cave, but by the lake.”

And so off she went to the lake and found him sitting there with his axe, looking at the skies, waiting.

“Mister Wolf! There you are, I have wanted to make your acquaintances since I moved here to the Lilac forest. I heard you follow the skies, whatever for?”

“Oh hello,” Greeted mister Wolf. “I follow the skies in hopes of finding out how to get up there. I tried to climb the oak tree, with no success. I tried to reach from the cliffs, but couldn’t either. I tried to run and jump by the cranberry bogs, to no avail. I have tried every way possible, but I find none. All I can do is sit here and wait for the stars and the moon, so I may howl my wishes before I return home again.”

“That sounds very sad indeed.” said miss Vixen. “But I think I know how to get you to the skies, mister Wolf.”

“Don’t tease me. There is no hope for me, I am just a wolf. I will never reach the heavens, I will never touch the stars. It is not meant for me.”

“Don’t be silly.” She said and took his hand. “There is always hope. Let us go out across the stones on the lake, and wait for night, and you will see.”

And so they did, and together they waited. The sun went to sleep, and the skies turned black. You couldn’t see where the treetops ended and the sky began. But above they saw all the stars.

“Now what?” He asked her and she pointed down. The lake, as black as above, speckled with stars.

“Look, we’re in the sky now. Amongst the stars.”

“And that’s how mister Wolf and miss Vixen became friends.” Caleb finished.

Evelyn sighed forlornly. “They’re getting married later, aren’t they?”

He chortled. “You think they are a match?”

“Obviously.” She poked the eggs and flopped the bacon over. “You’d have to be really daft to think otherwise.”

“Heh, alright. They get married in the end.” He pondered, then smirked. “But he dies!”

“NO!”

“He does!”

“Why?!”

“For drama~! And suspense! It makes a good story–”

“No! What about their home in the Lilac forest? Happily ever after forever?”

“It burns down!” He chuckled. “Just, fwomf! In flames. Mister Wolf’s mysterious and haunting past caught up with him.”

“What about the puppies?!”

“What puppies?”

“They got to have at least ONE puppy!”

“Why?”

“Because– You can’t leave her heartbroken all alone! There is a puppy! Otherwise, it’s too sad! I don’t like sad stories!”

“Hahaha, it’s just a story Evelyn–-”

“There is a puppy.”

“Okay! Okay, there is a puppy then.” He held his hands up when she wagged the scapula his way. “A half-wolf, half-fox puppy. Happy?”

“Yes.” She huffed and scooped eggs and bacon to two plates. “That’s much better. Would’ve been better if mister Wolf lived, though.. Hm..” She pondered. “A puppy wolf with red fur! Cute.”

She gave him his plate and found two cups to fill with apple cider she had brought.

“Ohh.. What’s this? Cider?”

“Apple cider! It’s almost like our apple blood.”

“Apple.. Blood?”

“Yes, it’s blood from an apple, but yours are juices. I like human apple cider, apple blood is good too, but yours are frizzier.”

“Huh.”

“After this, I think I can leave you to your own devices, right?” She pointed to the rest of the food she had left them. “Your medicine is in that bottle there, drink some and have a nap. Stay dry and warm. And clean. Doctor’s orders!”

“You are leaving?”

“Yes, I have some errands in west of Gravesfield! I got to look at the human fashion stores. I got a dress to pick up that I ordered for my sister.”

“Oh.” Caleb poked his bacons.

She looked at him. “Are you sad I’m leaving?”

“No– er, yes, a little. Your crazy, invasive, company has festered onto me like my fever.”

“Awwh, don’t worry, buddy. You will see me again soon enough.” And winked.

Caleb’s fever kept his cheeks flushed and hot, but it was Evelyn’s abundance of warmth that softened him.

“Alright then...” He nodded.

But he wanted her to stay, just a little more of her company and he was sure he really would have a speedy recovery.

So he prompted her; “Tell me about the dress!” to keep her talking, to stay, just a moment longer.

“Oh! This really nice dark purple velvet! My sister likes the dark and macabre.”

It worked.

Caleb leaned into his hand. “Is that so?” And smiled. “Sounds very witch-y to me.”

“She is a witch!”

“Yes, I know.” He chuckled. “More witch-y than you.”

She gasped and playfully kicked him on the leg. He laughed.

“You’re more of a good witch.” Caleb raised in defence. “You’re not dark or macabre, you are… Sweet and jolly.”

“I can be very dark if I want to!”

“Like your inability to lie, you mean?” That earned him another kick and he cackled.

Caleb ate his food and listened to Evelyn talk about her plans for the day. How fun she had commissioning the dress and how she had shocked them with her money. He learned that the demon realm used a currency called snails, and that Evelyn had exchanged snails for human money and, turns out, you could get more for your snails in the human realm.

Evelyn told him of some of her previous adventures in the human realm, some misunderstandings. How she learned about the currency in the first place and had to go back to her realm to make the exchange. By the sounds of it, her realm was more aware of the human one than vice versa.

There was a portal she travelled through, on the other side witches were aware of the portal but rarely went in; they had no reason to, really. And then there was a whole paperwork ordeal of travelling rules that accompanied it.

A portal, right there in the forest, somewhere.

“Portal?” Caleb inquired. “Where? I never saw one?”

“It looks like an archway.” She showed him an illustration of it in her book. “You can’t go through from this side, you need Titan’s blood.”

But he had never seen that archway. And made a note to himself to keep an eye out for it. “Er.. is that like apple blood?”

“Hahaha, no, no, it’s a rare substance you can only get from Eclipse lake. It’s a dangerous journey, so there’s this family called The Blights that made it their business to mine it and sell it. Their family crest is the phases of the moon. The kids usually have the crescent phases and the parents wear full moons and eclipsed moons.”

“Huh..” That meant nothing to him, but he was curious. He smiled. “Your realm sounds so different.”

“You can come and see it some day.”

“Oh! Uh, no, I don’t– er– I mean… Maybe.”

“Someday, not now, silly, I know you’re too nervous.” She put her empty plate aside and sipped the last of her cider. “But someday, I bet you’d like it. Just for a… Day, or weekend.”

“Is that possible?”

“Sure! I just gotta fill in some paperwork, I think? If not, I’ll just smuggle you in when nobody is looking, heheh!”

“My, my, that sounds illegal, Evelyn.”

“Pish-posh, I’m one of the most powerful witches of the Boiling Isles. What are they gonna do?”

“Tax you? Strip you of your wealth and titles, if you have them. Publicly shame you. Ask one of those other powerful witches to pursue and chain you, to–”

“Wow, Caleb, you must be fun at parties.”

“I am an absolute delight~!” He sparkled back at her and flicked his damp hair.

Evelyn scoffed. “Whatever, I will figure something out! I always do!”

“I bet.”

And she stood. “I need to go now.”

“Right.” Caleb tapped his finger on the table as she passed him.

“See you tomorrow or, if I can’t come by then, the day after! There should be enough medicine and food until then.”

Just a little longer.

“Do you think I will be well for Sunday? For.. Church.”

“Mmmhh.. Hard to say. Stay in bed, eat well, wash. Then maybe.”

Just a few seconds more.

“Alright.” And Evelyn clicked a finger gun at him, and Artemis climbed out into her hand. He kept forgetting that spider was in her hair. “Oh, and, Evelyn?”

“Yes?”

Caleb stood up, and the two regarded one another.

“Thank you. For… For today. The medicine and– Just– You know. Thanks.”

She outshone the autumn sun behind her. “My pleasure. See you around, Caleb.”

He couldn't keep her. She had to go, he had to stay.

“Fare thee well, my friend.”

Gleeful, she hopped onto her staff, and Caleb walked to the door to watch her fly off into the golden skies, over the red and barren treetops, until he saw her no more.

“Bye-bye.” He whispered.

And closed the door. His hand lingering against the wood, his heart beat with tenderness.

Caleb moved away, sighing. In the corner of his eye, he saw the eye-knot in the wood blink, and he turned quickly to stare widely at it. But the door was normal and didn’t do anything, not even when he knocked on it. He squinted at it. But nothing happened.

He shrugged, shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

“Must be the fever…” He muttered and returned to take a bit of the medicine. "I'm seeing things."

He picked up his undergarments from the floor, hung them up by the fire, which he left burning to heat the house, and went upstairs to nap.

Doctor’s orders, after all.

And coughed.

Chapter Text

A mother with two little boys goes to bed with a shiver and blue lips. Her boys cuddle to her, to keep her warm. Caleb is ten and is decent at weaving baskets, Philip is three and late with talking.

Caleb told her a story. Because when you are hungry and cold, and live in a hut, only a story can fill your belly with warmth.

But stories aren’t real, and neither is the warmth.

Her hand was cold and clammy. Her chest didn’t move. Philip just sat there and watched her as Caleb sobbed. He cried, too. His brother never cried, and this game mother was playing wasn’t fun any more.

A paupers grave is shallow enough for wild life to dig it up. It’s also not a grave near any churchyard. She was a Christian, sure, but it cost money they didn’t have to have a proper burial. That’s just how it was.

“You have to leave.” Said the woman that owned the shed they rented.

“What?” Caleb, with his body still aching with grief, looked up at the woman and begged. He begged with every piece of his soul. But she wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“You can’t stay. You have no money to pay rent.”

“But I’m making baskets.”

“And have you sold any?”

No, he hadn’t.

She sighed. “You got until nightfall–”

“But we have nothing and nowhere to go!” Caleb reached out and she stepped away. “I will do anything.”

Anything for this shoddy little shed of the house, full of holes, and a box for a bed that his mother died in. Anything to keep it.

“I’m sorry Caleb. I have my own family to think of.” And she left. When he chased her, begging, she shut herself into the big house.

He banged, pleading.

“You selfish hag!” He yelled, and regretted it immediately. “I’m sorry! Please?”

There was no use, she did not respond.

Whatever, he was not going to leave at nightfall. He couldn’t. He didn’t have the energy, they had nowhere else to go. The boy had no plan. Caleb looked back to the shed and saw Philip there by the door. He scooped him up, holding him close, and kissed him.

They remained in the shed for the night.

“Caleb.” Said the man of the house the next day. “You gotta go, I’m sorry. You have until noon, or I’m getting the constable, and he will deal with you both.”

Caleb sat on the floor next to the bed Philip was sleeping in. He was staring into the void.

“... Lad?”

Caleb’s worn out eyes turned up at him. “I’ll gather our things. Then we will leave, sir.”

“You don’t have things.”

“I know. What are you going to do? Fight me over scraps?”

Caleb stood up, challenging him to try to stop him. To not let him take along some of the shed’s stuff. How could anyone be that cruel? Not even a blanket? Caleb was not much, but he steeled himself as best he could. He would have some of it.

The man couldn’t hold his gaze, sighed and nodded. “Until noon.” He said, and left.

Caleb took his biggest basket and filled it with a blanket. He tried to fill as many useful things as possible. The knife he tied to his thigh. He tore a shawl to pieces to tie them around his shoes that were breaking at the seams. Nappies for Philip.

What else? What else could he use? He only had two hours until noon. The whole world was outside their home. Unforgiving, merciless, dark world. He needed to be prepared.

Caleb was ten and he had to prepare.

Philip didn’t wake up as he was placed in the basket.  And strapped two belts to it to be able to wear it as a backpack. Caleb had put the basket up on the bed, to give it a platform, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to pick it up on his back as easily. Not with a toddler in it.

Caleb tucked him in, put the lid on, and carefully threaded the two belts across his chest as best he could to carry the basket up. He touched his thigh. Good, the knife. What else?

What else?

No food. No money.

He grabbed two shawls more and tied them around his waist.

There was nothing else– The mirror.

Caleb put the small mirror with Philip. It was their only keepsake from her. At least, with that, they would be able to see her in themselves.

Caleb opened the door and gazed out over the town.

Two orphans, one too small to be helpful and the other had to shove down his mourning to a later day. That day never got to come. There was no time for it.

It was suicide to go out there like this. This was no door. He stood at the edge of a cliff. Caleb took one step out and fell into his new life.

And something red took root in him from that day onward.

- - ---

Philip wouldn’t stop crying.

“I know, I know, I’m hungry too. Sshh.. Shh.. Please Philip.”

But three-year-olds are not reasonable creatures. They are needs and wants, and they depend on you. You can’t leave them be, they’ll waddle off and hurt themselves. If only Philip was better at talking, this might’ve been easier. Babies start babbling after one-year-old, usually, and by two they can at least say words. But Philip was three and only said words, not whole (and sometimes coherent) sentences like other three-year-olds.

Philip had no toys to entertain him with, nothing but his brother’s company and voice to teach him cognitive development. Since Philip was born, Caleb had done his best to raise him in her absence, to teach him everything. Their mother was busy providing.

That’s how it was. One had to provide. Now it was Caleb that had to provide, and raise him. That’s the only plan he had.

“Sshh.. Shh..” And he told him a story, to distract him from the hunger, from the night. Caleb sat outside the basket, tucking Philip in as best he could. But Philip wouldn’t settle.

“What is it?” Caleb sighed, he was tired. He needed Philip to just sleep so he could sleep too. The basket was safe.

Philip stood up to show him. Philip had peed in it. Because of course he had. Philip was old enough to go potty himself, but with all the recent events, and no time to flag to Caleb he needed to go… Accidents happens.

Caleb swallowed down the stress, the tears, and the big, throbbing lump in his throat. He lost his temper and was rough, pulled his brother out of the basket. He folded the blanket, pee stain outwards, and wrapped Philip in it. It was a chilly summer night, and this was the only blanket they had.

Frustrated, Caleb inhaled, exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled. Philip let out a sob, embarrassed and sad for having peed and upset his brother. He was scared. Scared of Caleb’s angry face and for having had an accident. Scared of the night, sad about the uncomfortable basket. Missing his mum.

Philip cried, loudly, and Caleb couldn’t hush him. People could hear, bad people that could rob them could hear.

His chest filled with something red.

“Shut up! Pip! Please?! Shut up!” Caleb hissed.

And Philip sobbed inconsolably.

Caleb could feel his own tears threaten to pour behind his eyes. Seeing Philip like this crushed him. Barefooted, unkempt, snotty and hungry. He was just a toddler. An innocent little babe.

“Mama!” Philip’s shoulders shook and he stroked his eyes.

Caleb’s whole heart shattered. Maybe Caleb had nobody to comfort him, but Philip had his older brother. Caleb would not let Philip feel the helplessness and loneliness he felt.

“I’m sorry– I’m sorry!” He cradled him in. “It’s okay! You couldn’t help it. Look, it will dry up! The stain is outwards, the wind will dry it in no time. I’m sorry, I’m just stressed. Okay? It’s not you. You didn’t do anything. It’s my fault.”

Caleb nailed that sentence to his core. It’s my fault. I’m not good enough. I have to do something. We can’t stay here. He’s hungry, I’m hungry.

Perhaps going to the constable wouldn’t be such a bad thing? He would put them in an orphanage– No, those places were horrible. They beat and abused kids senseless in there. Caleb had seen how kids, who grew up in those places since they were babes like Philip, turned out to be: They were hunched over, swaying back and forth, hitting their heads and ate like dogs.

He would not doom Philip to that.

Caleb comforted Philip until he had calmed down. The basket was open to dry out. The alley they were crouched in smelled of wet mud and alcohol.

He wished, so desperately, there was anyone he could turn to.

His mother was a fallen woman, she had sold herself to unsavoury men. Caleb knew where she had worked, perhaps she had friends there? It was worth a shot. He needed the guidance of an adult.

“Alright?” He asked Philip, who sniffled and nodded. “Yeah? Good? Look, okay, get in the basket I know it smells a little, but bear with it. I’m going to take us somewhere else, if we are lucky, maybe there’s…”

He didn’t want to put the promise of food in Philip’s head.

“...There could be help, there. Okay?”

Philip nodded.

“Okay.”

And Caleb put him back in.

There were women there. Women dressed like his mother and stroking the arms of men to try to entice them to join them somewhere more private.

“Excuse me.” Caleb asked, and Philip peeked out from under the basket lid. “I’m–”

“Mama?”

“No, shh, Philip. Not mama.”

Philip’s lip wobbled, and he sank into the basket again. His little sniffle tore Caleb asunder, but he had to keep his mask.

“Hi, sorry. I’m Caleb Wittebane, this is my brother Philip. We are–”

“Oh! You’re Charlotte’s sons. We haven’t seen her in a while, sorry boy.”

“Yes, no… She passed.”

“Oh.”

The women exchanged looks of sorrow. Caleb swallowed.

“Look, I am only looking for advice. I don’t know what to do next.”

The woman in a lilac scarf covered in a forestry pattern crouched down to him. She took his hands in hers and Caleb hoped, prayed, she had something good to tell him.

“Honey, it’s going to be rough from now on.”

So this was it, then. This is how it would be now. Caleb used all his strength not to cry, but his eyes got wet anyway, and the woman pitifully stroked his hand.

“You’re going to have to be strong.” She held his gaze and spoke to him like he was an adult now, one of them. Like this is how they started their lives, too. “You’re going to have to put some… Things.. aside, to get by.”

“Things...?”

“Caleb, you cannot survive taking care of someone so little, you are little yourself. Nobody faults you if you put him in an orphanage. And we can’t take him on for you.”

She was giving him an out. She was telling him it was okay to be selfish. To run away, to abandon him. That he, literally, had no choice but to give Philip up. It was a kindness she was offering him.

Caleb had no idea what to do. He didn’t want to make decisions like this. But it felt wrong to abandon him, he couldn’t! He loved him. He loved Philip so much.

“I can’t do that.” His voice couldn’t get louder than a whisper. “He’s all I have.”

He would not break their gaze. He inhaled. Her eyes were green and Caleb watched them fill with empathy.

“Do you have food? Just something little to spare? For Philip, he’s starving.”

She stood up, and the women looked through their stuff until bread was produced in various torn bits and pieces. Caleb gasped with gratitude.

He gave all of it to Philip. “Here Pip! Look!” And Philip beamed. Caleb let out a sigh of relief.

Finally.

“Eat that, then sleep. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Caleb closed the lid, his hand rested on it. He turned back to the woman in lilac and came face to face with another piece of bread.

“Eat.” She said.

Apprehensive, Caleb held the bit of bread. He wanted to save it for Philip. For tomorrow when he cried again.

“Eat.” She repeated and nudged him until he took a bite. And stared at him until he finished it. “Good.”

“Thank you..”

“You are welcome. You know, I owe your mother a favour. I guess I’ll have to pay my due to her through you.”

“O-Oh? Um, the bread was–”

“No, she did me a much bigger favour than bread.” The lilac woman rubbed her neck, stretching. “Dammit, so she had to go and die, huh.”

Caleb stroked his knuckles. “She didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know kid.” She tsk’d and turned to her friends.

They discussed what to do, or what options Caleb had. He quietly listened, taking in every suggestion. Everything from becoming a burglar, to a beggar, maybe one of them once he's older and willing. One suggested that Caleb leave Philip on the doorstep of a nice home, hope they keep him, and then skip town. Or, if the nice family took Philip in, maybe they’d let Caleb work in their scullery.

“He’s ten, and a boy.” Said one of them. “He could start an apprenticeship if he lies and says he’s thirteen?”

“No.” One sighed and looked Caleb up and down. “He’d get no pay until he’s worth it, and if he still has his brother, he’s screwed.”

“Oh, I know!” Said the chubby one. “What about the puritans?”

“What about them?”

“They take care of the little ones, don’t they? They even school them. He just got to join.”

“He’s ten. They won’t take him in without a guardian.”

“Caleb.” The chubby woman turned to him, hands on her knees. “Do you think you could pretend to be at least fifteen?”

The other mollies scoffed. “Fifteen? Look at him! He barely looks ten!”

“He’s meagre, exactly. He’s stunted in growth! But look at his eyes. That’s a man’s eyes.”

The four women collectively observed Caleb’s eyes, and he tensed up, hoping they would all agree and there was a chance he could pass as a very, very, small and scrawny fifteen-year-old.

“...If he gets an early puberty, sure.” Said the lilac woman. “He does have a man’s eyes. Hm…”

Caleb hugged his arms. “What, um, are the puritans?”

And they explained it to him.

“And.. They can help me?”

“Yeah. Given that you are his guardian and of age.”

Caleb nodded. “I can do that.” He said, but had no idea if he could. “How do I get to them? Are they in town?”

“No, one town over in Gravesfield, it’s too long a trip for you.” Said the lilac woman, and smiled. “But I owed your mother. So I’ll fix you a ride, okay?” And cupped his cheek.

Caleb smiled. “Really? Thank you!”

“I’m Lilly, by the way.” Said Lilly and draped her lilac shawl closer over herself. “Short for Lilith. Your mother and I were good friends.”

If Caleb ever had a daughter, he would name her Lilith. And maybe the name would trickle through his bloodline and be re-used. He hoped so. What a good name. What a kind name. It invoked to him someone with a good head on their shoulders and feet on the ground.

“Thank you, Lilith.”

Lilith and the three others began to target men who were heading out of town. All Caleb had to do was rest nearby.

After about an hour, they brought to him a man who would take them to Gravesfield. He had already gotten his pay for it, and Caleb didn’t have to ask what they paid. He knew. And thanked them.

Lilith hugged him, cupped his face, and said to him: “Do what you must, Caleb. But never, ever, get caught. Do you understand?” He nodded, but glanced aside with uncertainty. “Caleb, you have no honour, no dignity. If you must run, run, even if your feet bleed. God looks between his fingers for people like us. But never hurt anyone, okay? Or God will not let your sins slip so easily by any more.”

He wasn’t sure where all this came from. If she was projecting something or giving him legit, great, advice. But it sounded frightening all the same.

“Okay.” He promised.

“Good boy.” She kissed him on the forehead and stood. She helped him with the basket and Caleb left with the man, to his horse and cart full of boxes.

Caleb looked out over the last bit of his hometown, Lilith waved him off. She stood there, the whole time, until the horse had drawn them around the bend and the town was no longer in view.

He would never know her, save for her name and her shawl in dulled purple colours and a forest stitched to it. He would never know her story, or her relations to his mother, or what his mother had done to earn this kind of favour.

But he was grateful. And Caleb learned a good lesson - It was important to have friends. It was the only way you could get by, when you had nothing else but your heart to offer.

To Gravesfield they ventured.

- - -

“Fifteen?” The pastor did not believe him. “And an orphan.” and looked at his baby brother peeking up from the basket.

Caleb swallowed. “Sir, I am not going to pretend to be unaware of how I look. As you can imagine, me and my brother, and our wedded parents, did not have it easy. I’m only stunted in growth for the rough life I’ve led, I will catch up once I’m on my feet. I’m sure.”

He did his best to speak older than he was, to make himself taller. He remembered what they had said about his eyes. And when their looks met, he reeled in a win.

“Mh.” The pastor nodded, knowing Caleb probably added a year or two, but turned the other cheek. “Come then, lets see what we can do for you.”

“Thank you.” Caleb didn’t bother carrying Philip in the basket. He plucked him out and carried him, hiding the basket in the corner by the door.

Finally. Some ground to stand on.

But something had rooted itself inside him. Something red and hot. Something he would never have the time to look at, to put bandaid on.

He didn't have the time to be sad, angry or upset. Injustice happens everyone, you move along. It's just life. Your mother dies, you chose to care for your brother.

It's life.

There was survival to think of now.

Caleb rose with the rooster. Rubbed his eye and sat up in the cot he and his brother shared. He nudged him awake.

“Pip, chores.”

“Mhhhm…”

“Pip.” He poked him.

“Urgh, noooo..!”

Caleb took the bible and gently tapped his brother’s head with it.

“Get up, or you won’t be able to go with Anna to school.”

Philip sat up. “Okay fine.”

Philip was six, Caleb thirteen. They got dressed and Caleb looked at himself in the little mirror, Philip shoved him aside to get a look too. Caleb messed up his hair and Philip grunted.

They exited the shed on the side of the farm, next to the chicken coops.

Caleb was a farmhand, as was Philip, but Philip was walked to school with the farmer’s daughter Anna every day and Caleb would do the heavier labours.

This job was a good one. He did all the chores, did whatever the farmer asked of him, and in exchange they got leftovers and the shed to sleep in.

Sometimes, when there wasn’t much to do, Caleb took Philip into the forest and played with him. It was as much for Caleb as it was for Philip. It granted the older Wittebane with a much-needed escape from reality.

At night, the forest was dark, grim, and spooky.

And when the adults went through them with their pitchforks and fires, it frightened Philip. Their echoes reached their little shed.

“What if the witch comes to hide here? What if she eats us?”

“She won’t.” Caleb promised, but it didn’t soothe his brother, who hid in the blankets as distant echoes of angry men and women could be heard. “Hey, Pip.. Did you know that witches have a blind spot?”

“They do?”

“Yeah! Yeah, because you see, when witches sell their souls to the devil, they forget what it’s like to be human.” Caleb put on his storyteller voice, and Philip’s big blue eyes peeked out at him attentively. Grinning, Caleb continued; “So there is a really easy way to trick them, so they will think you’re one of them, rather than a normal human being.”

“Really? How?”

Caleb fished out his knife and a looked around the shed for anything he could carve in. A wooden plank, a bit rotted on the edges, but that only made the fibre softer to carve in.

“A mask.” He said and began to carve one for Philip. “Something devilish, just like them. They can’t actually tell it’s not a real face! So, if you wear a mask like this, and a witch comes, they will say Oh! My comrade in evil! And bow down to you, as they do, and all you got to do is reply similarly and part ways.”

Philip watched Caleb carve two eyes and a pointy chin. “How do you know that?”

“Because I, uh, I overheard a witch say it once. When she was in the guise of a bird! She was trying to talk to another bird and got furious when it only cawed back! Until she realised the other bird was not a witch at all, and she cackled out; Oh, silly me! I can’t tell one from the other when they’re wearing a disguise. And flew off.”

“Is that true? Did you really see a witch?”

“Mhm!” Caleb carved two horns. “Plenty times! They lurk in the forest, there are so many hiding spots.”

He held the mask up in front of himself.

“Mohahaha~!” 

Philip giggled and Caleb gave him the mask.

“Wear this, and no witch will be able to get you.”

Philip put it on. “Will they really believe I’m one of them like this?”

“Yeah. They might even think you’re their king, the devil himself, and bow to you!” Caleb nudged. “You just got to play your part!”

“I’m not very good at that.. I’m not as good as you are.”

“You don’t have to be, witches are dumb. They’ll believe anything if they think you’re a friend of theirs.”

Caleb tucked Philip down into bed and climbed in with him, hugging him and making sure he was warm and comfortable, even with the mask on.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Far away, they heard the wails of a woman. They could both picture how she was being dragged by the arms, kicking and flailing, begging and protesting. Philip tensed up.

“They’re near here…”

“Don’t worry.” Caleb tapped his mask. “They caught her. At the end of the week she’ll be hanged, I’m sure of it.”

“What if she curses us all?”

“Wear your mask.” Caleb said and bundled up his brother. “And as her curse trickle through the crowds, and see you, it’ll skip over you.”

They couldn’t tell what the echoes were saying, but they heard the jeering.

Philip cuddled. “Can you tell me more stories?”

“Of course.”

And Caleb told him tales of men that transformed into wolves and women that danced naked by the fires to hail the dark lord.

He told Philip a tale of two little boys, brothers, that tricked a witch in the woods. How she had tried to convert the older brother by luring him away with the promise of wealth, but the younger one was too clever to be fooled! And instead he fooled the witch with his mask.

Caleb told him how the younger brother rescued his older one, tricked the witch up her chimney and she got stuck! And beneath her feet, he lit a fire, smoking her to death, and burned down the witch’s house. The boys escaped with a chest full of gold.

And Philip finally slept.

And Caleb swallowed down the days worth of work, his aching limbs finally could relax and crash him into the cot he shared.

In his dreams, the skies were black and raining red paint. And he screamed.

He never knew why he had dreams like that. He was always so angry.

 - - -

In the woods the next day, Philip was waiting for his brother. And when he saw him coming to see if any traps they set up had gotten anything, Philip called out to him.

“Hm?” Caleb looked around. “Hello?”

“It’s me!”

“Philip? Where are you?”

“Pretend you’re a witch!”

Caleb smiled and rolled his eyes. He moved his apron up from around his waist to around his shoulders like a cape. And poked the insides of his felted hat so that it became pointy.

He hunched his back.

“Heheheh~!” He crouched forward, peering around in nearby bushes. “HAH!” But Philip wasn’t there. 

“Hm... Ohh~! I smell a human child nearby~!” 

And jumped around a tree, but no Pip was there.

“Well then.” And began to hum a song. “Tippity-tap, tippity-tap, I am a witch just doing his craft~! Tippity-tap, tippity-... HAH!”

His grin fell when his brother wasn’t around this tree either.

“Where the bleedin’ hell are you?”

Philip stepped out from a bush on an elevated Cliffside, not too high up. He was wearing the mask and wielding a wooden sword.

Aha. Caleb knew what to do. He held up his hands like claws.

“Master!” He put on his best crone voice. “Master! You won’t believe it! I smell a human child nearby! Somewhere, we will feast on his flesh!”

Only then did Caleb see the rope in Philip’s other hand and squinted at it.

“Uh, master, what’s with the–”

Philip threw himself down the little cliff like Tarzan, at the end of the rope was a bag of stones that thumped down to the ground.

Caleb’s feet slapped together, and he was tripped upside down, hit his head on his arm and up into the air he went.

“WO-WOAH! OW!”

Dangling like a fish, Caleb rubbed his forehead and looked down at his brother and the sack of stones.

“What the–”

“I got you! Witch!” Philip pointed the sword at him. “I fooled you!”

“You.. Sure did! wow!” Caleb swung in a circle and tried to paddle his way back around. “Uh– How the– How did you even do this?”

Philip pointed his sword up at the tree. “I threw a rope up there and–”

“I know, I know, I just– How did you know how much I weighed– Did you plan this? Where did you even learn this? They taught you this in school?”

“No?” Philip lifted his mask up. “I mean, it’s kind of like your traps in the woods?”

“NO???” Caleb protested, trying to reach up to his feet but couldn’t. “I use a box and a stick! What the heck is this?!”

Philip grinned. “It’s almost the same!”

“No it isn’t! it’s much better!” He gave up on releasing himself, he hung there, hands on his hips, smiling. “Well done! Look at you, huh? You’re going to catch real witches someday!”

Philip beamed. “You think so?”

“Absolutely! With that mask, I didn’t even recognise you!”

“You knew it was me.”

“...I did, but I almost believed you weren’t you at first! Honest!” He lied. “You played your part so well as a master of witches!”

“Really?”

“Yes! You didn’t say anything. And that, Pip, lets people apply what they themselves think onto you! Good stuff, bad stuff. If you keep them guessing, especially aloud, you’ll know what the right thing to say - or not say - is, and then you can play that in your favour.”

“Oh..!” Philip nodded. “I will remember that.”

“Good! As you should!”

He remembered what his mother’s friend had told him. You had to do what you had to do, and so far, Caleb had learned that it was best to be on people’s better sides. That’s how you got by. If people liked you, you survived on other’s kindness in a crisis.

It didn’t matter what you really thought. If others hated the Dutch, then so did you. It was about fitting in.

“So um..!” Caleb eyeballed the rope. “Could you let me down?”

Philip stepped off the bag and Caleb sauntly sank downwards until his back hit the ground. Philip then untied the sack from the rope and the rest of him hit the soil.

“Thank you.”

Caleb stood to dust himself off and picked up his hat. He poked the tip back down and put it on. The tree up there was full of colour and sunshine. Philip had really planned this out well.

His little Philip, who had been late with walking and talking. Just look at him now, doing complicated things like this at only six years old.

“You’re amazing Pip.” And tapped the mask so it flapped down over his face again. But he could see him smiling with his eyes through the holes. He took his hand. “Come on then, let's see if we caught anything.”

When Caleb was fourteen, Philip seven, there was something running around the farms and stole chickens and sheep.

“So be on guard.” The farmer told Caleb. “It might be a fox or… something.”

Caleb saluted. “Of course.”

He tucked Philip into bed.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna sit outside, be on guard. Watch the chicken coops.”

“What if it’s a witch?”

“Eh.. I’ll yell really loudly. And you–” He booped him on the nose. “You stay in here. Wear your mask if you’re afraid.”

And Philip took the mask down to wear it. Caleb smiled down at him.

“It’s probably just a fox! I can kick a fox in the face. Or a badger.”

“Badgers can crush bones.” Philip stated and Caleb gaped a few times.

“Uh– really?”

“Yes, so don’t get close. If you don't bleed to death or get an infection, there’s also rabies if they bite you.”

“... Right! No kicks, I’ll use the shovel!”

“Pitchfork is better, more points, sharper too.”

“Pitchfork it is, then. Now sleep. I got a job to do. And hey, if I kill it, your big brother might earn us some good food for a while! Everyone wants that thing dead. Oh, maybe they’ll let me join the hunters, eh? Prove myself worthy. Wouldn't that be something?”

“Oh, that would suit you!” Philip smiled under his mask and cuddled down. “Kill it good, then.”

“I will.” And winked. "Dream of good futures for us, it'll be good luck."

Caleb sat out there on the stub where he chopped wood, yawning, in the dark with the pitchfork.

He put it aside in favour of carving some wood. He didn’t believe the fox, or whatever it was, would come here anyway. And doing this all night would give him some slack tomorrow on the chores. He did want to sleep in a little.

Wood creaked from behind the chicken coop, it moved inside of it. There was fluttering of wings and clucking. But nothing too loud, like whatever was in there was small and quiet enough to not wake the whole hen house.

Caleb took his pitchfork and waited by the hole.

It was a wolf.

It was huge.

How was that even possible? It had been so silent.

Witchraft?

There weren’t even supposed to be wolves in Connecticut. But there it was. It’s dark, nearly black, greyish fur pointed out into the air like a demon. Its blue eyes turned to him sharply with its mouth full of two dead chickens.

Caleb stared back.

It barred its gums at him. They were so red he could imagine it was coloured by malice alone.

The wolf dropped the chickens, turned to him. Its wheezing growl came from deep inside its chest, it rumbled the air, the ground, Caleb’s body and froze him to the ground.

This is how he dies, he thought. There was no way he could fight this thing off. It was as big as he was, and all that muscle was spasming with evil power.

There was a mild creaking from behind him.

The wolf and Caleb turned and saw Philip.

Caleb turned back to face the wolf. It was still booking at Philip.

He knew then that the wolf intended to target Philip for dinner. He had no idea where his courage came from, but Caleb got between them.

“Don’t even think about it.” Caleb hissed with an anger that spread through his entire body, and the wolf snarled, like it understood.

The two of them filled with andrenaline. Caleb could feel his eyes thin and his teeth gnash.

Wolves attack the throat. They always do.

But so does Caleb.

And in one quick, swift, movement; like the launching of a canon ball. The wolf leapt at Caleb. And Caleb turned the pitchfork upwards, and yelled as he pushed it forward into the hellscape of fangs.

The wolf yapped in pain, the fork stuck in its jaw and protruded up through its snout. Caleb let go of the handle as the wolf tore away in pain.

It was still alive. And tried to free itself from the fork.

Caleb’s entire body filled with red. His heartbeat thumped through his limbs, pulsating until he was nothing but two large eyes in a pool of pure rage and grabbed the axe from beside the stub.

Whatever possessed him to launch himself and his weapon forward was not godly.

The world was dark and red.

That thing had wanted to eat his brother.

It had to die.

Nothing touches his brother.

The world was red. The hot blood splashing from the dark fur made no difference to him. But it soaked his arms, his shirt, his face. And his hands slipped against the slick wood, and he manoeuvred around, grabbing the axe at the back of it’s head and continued dismembering the wolf.

When you’re little, and powerless, and suddenly you are granted a surge of overwhelming rage.. You feel free. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop. Maybe it was terror and anger all at the same time.

Injustice just happens. Sometimes boys loses their mother too soon, sometimes a hungry wolf faces a mad boy.

Flesh exposed itself to him and the blood drenched bones poked out in broken bits.

Caleb slowed down, not because he wanted to but because his arms couldn’t continue lifting the axe.

He breathed, staring down at the macabre leftovers of his enemy.

Caleb swallowed and returned to the mortal realm, where things had colour of the night. The only red thing left was himself.

He sat back, the axe dropped by his legs. Unaware that Philip had run to the big house and got the farmer.

“Caleb..!”

Caleb slowly turned to the farmer. His face splashed in blood and sweat.

His brown eyes eerily staring out at them.

“It was going to eat Philip.” He said in defence. “It wasn’t human.”

In shock, he turned back to the beast. Had it even been a wolf?

“Or animal. It was a demon.. I think.”

The farmer’s wife was there too, and so was Anna; hugging Philip.

Caleb looked down on himself and tried to get up. Albeit a little wobbly, he stood with his chest held high.

“It got two chickens.” Caleb admitted absently. “But I killed it–” And earned a slap on the back from the farmer.

“Well done!” And looked down at the monster with the rest of them. “Good heavens…” it was hacked to bits, and it only made it look more real that it hadn’t been a normal wolf.

The rest was a blur for Caleb.

The constable came, witch hunters and neighbours came. The sun came, too. Caleb was just there, in the background, his shirt now flecked with big stains of brown.

Soon enough, Caleb had a reputation and made friends quickly.

Everyone wanted to meet the young fellow that had ended the beast; rumours had it that it was a witch in disguise. And Caleb didn't mind telling the tale over and over.

“Say, lad…” Said Karl, who was a woodsman and witch hunter, as he approached Caleb at the farm a week or so later. “Would you like to be a woodsman? We could use a brave lad like you out there.”

That was much better pay than leftovers. “Yes, please!”

It took a month for the woodsmen to take a liking to the boy, Caleb was hard to dislike: He was fun and cheeky, always ready to do what was asked for him.

And those woodsmen that were witch hunters, invited him to become one of them.

Caleb pretended to be what they expected of him; fearless. With fire held high and a grin spread on his lips. A witch was nothing in the face of Caleb Wittebane. After all, he’d slain a wolf-like monster once.

Being a woodsman was good, but he tried a scullary job on the side as well!

Caleb had liked the scullary job, even if it was brief. It gave him a glimpse into the kind of life the middle to upper classes had. He met a footman there, that taught him what made a gentleman. And Caleb, in his heart of hearts, had to bury a wish of becoming one too.

But the work in the scullary took too much of his time, and the woodswork paid better while scullary was barely different from working at the farm.

Besides, he didn't want Philip to be all alone, he always cried if he was late.

And he always chose Philip.

Always, every time. Philip gave him the most happiness. He made all the hard work and sacrifice worth it. To be able to get him books, clothes, food.. Make his brother smile and take him to church, to school.

It was worth it.

He loved him.

And Caleb had no time to think of himself or what he wanted. When life is rough, there are no time for dreams. That's what fantasy is for.

Caleb would daydream, make up stories for himself, for Philip, for anyone who would listen.

Because when your heart is hungry for a dream of something better, and softer, than the life you've been handed.. And you have to work hard to provide and raise your brother.. Only a story brings you close enough to the warmth of your dream. You can live vicariously through them.

But stories aren’t real, and neither is the warmth.

And the red in his soul grew.

He made Philip eat first.

"I already ate." He lied. "Eat until you're full."

And so Philip did. And Caleb learned to manage on nothing.

Caleb was seventeen, a woodsman and witch hunter. Looking for incriminating clues of what could implicate the witch they caught last night.

Happy Landon held up the broom. “The broom is here, and it sure doesn’t fly any...” and let it drop to the floor. “The witness said she flew.”

“You know...” Caleb said aloud and stroked his chin as the other witch hunters looked around the abandoned house. “Witches fly on all sorts of things.”

He stroked his knife across the cutlery by the kitchen.

“Brooms, skillets, bread spoons, shovels… Which is strange! Isn’t it? It’s all random stuff. So it got me thinking.” He found a cup of lard. “It’s what they use on its shaft that makes it fly in the first place that actually matters.” And peeked inside the mug. Sure enough, there was lard and a bunch of herbs.

He gave it to Mister Hopkins.

“Something like this, perhaps? Along with a spell to make it work.”

Hopkins looked inside the little mug and then at Caleb, and smiled. “Yes. That makes sense.”

“We could look for anything unusual in here.” he pointed at the lard. “That has a bunch of herbs in it. I never knew to mix those things together. Does anyone here know why she would?”

The men shook their heads.

“Well then! That could be it then.”

This filled everyone’s heads with possibilities. Odd combinations of fluids or herbs. The only one not looking around was Karl, he just sat back and watched the others run around to find implications.

“You good Karl?” Caleb asked quietly.

“Yes, just my knee. You spry young ones can go look around.”

And Caleb smiled. “Of course!” And joined the others.

They confiscated a bunch of things that, together, looked odd.

Pigs feet on their own wasn’t strange. But why put them all in a birchwood basket? Did that mean something? Caleb suggested that because birchwood was believed to ward off evil and bring in good luck; that perhaps by putting pigs feet in a basked made out of it would capture evil inside the feet, and then the witch would feed it to unsuspecting victims.

That made sense.

The fact Caleb knew it warded off evil, nobody questioned. He was one of them, after all. And old folk beliefs from England did come along with the arrivals to Gravesfield. It wasn’t too strange that a woodsman would know that.

Hopkins smiled at Caleb as Caleb put pieces together and proposed spectral evidence.

Wittebane was good at this.

He was eighteen and was staring at the hanged woman at the gallows, the bag still over her head as she swayed in the summer winds. Her feet bumped against the edge of the hole that was gaping beneath her skirt.

“Caleb!” Philip pulled on his sleeve. “I have a great idea!”

“Huh? Oh! What?”

Philip opened his book and showed him a drawing of something mechanical.

“Er.. What’s that?”

“I was thinking, for our house! I would like if my room had this installed! That way, I can access a secret place in the attic from my room! see, I would pull this rope here and–”

“Uh– Right, er, that might be a little much. How about we have a house, first.”

“Awh..”

“It’s a great idea, though! Later! We can install it later.”

“Did the native guy not show up yet?”

“Not yet.”

“What was his name again?”

“Nashoba.”

“Are you scared?”

“No, why should I be?”

“He’s a native.” Philip shrugged. “Aren’t they scary? I thought they hated foreigners like us.”

“No, no, he’s Mohegan. They like us.”

“Oh! Wait, I thought he was Pequot?”

“Er.. well, sort of, um… I’m not entirely sure, Pip. But Karl said he’s nice.”

“Hm!”

“And hopefully he can show us some trees we can cut and use that nobody minds.”

“You mean cursed trees.”

“I will pray first!” Caleb scoffed. “No worries! God will cancel out the evil.”

“If you say so.”

Caleb frowned and nudged him. “Hey, believe in God.”

“Ugh.. I’m just saying–”

“Ap-ap-ap! Not out here. At home, but not here.”

Philip shrugged and looked into his book, sighing, and wrote something next to his machine.

Caleb glanced but, of course, couldn’t tell what it was.

“I could teach you.” Philip said without looking up.

Caleb muttered. “No…”

“If you just had some patience.”

“I know the letters, that’s enough.”

“Not even in order.”

“I know them! Who cares about the order?”

Philip wrote an N and showed it to him.

“That’s a V.” Said Caleb confidently.

“It’s an N.”

Caleb frowned. “They look basically the same!” He took his pencil and added a line. “See? V.”

“That’s M.” Philip removed two sticks. “Now it’s a V.”

Caleb crossed his arms, surly. “Whatever. I don’t need it anyway.”

Philip arched his brows and sighed. “That’s only because you don’t know what you’re missing.”

“You read it to me already! It’s all just.. Old men talking about the sky and the stars, blah blah blah.”

“It is not! How dare you! They are philosophers!”

“Philo-whatever, I say. All they do is ask questions and they never even answer them! They just..” He held up his hands to mimic mouths. “Just blab arguments at one another until one of them one-ups the other. It doesn’t mean he’s even right, he was just better at talking.”

“That’s not it at all! You are missing the point! And also, there are the mathematicians and–” He saw Caleb roll his eyes. “It is important stuff, Caleb! And it is much better to ask questions than blindly believing everything.”

Caleb pointed a warning finger at him. “Hey. We talked about this.”

Philip sighed.

“Pardon, are you Caleb Wittebane?”

Caleb turned around and let out a noise. Nashoba, with his half-bare chest and loincloth, leather pants that only went up to above his knee and exposed the flexing muscle of his thigh.

Caleb gaped a few times as his eyes couldn’t stop looking him up and down. Until he was glued stuck to Nashoba’s beautiful, handsome, smile. His eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“Uh-uh– Im- yes?”

Philip let out a snort and Caleb, flustered to the ears and down to his chest, smacked Philip on the arm to shut up.

“Y-Yes. Yes? Yes. I am Caleb. Wittebane. That’s me.”

Nashoba held out his hand and Caleb shook it. Firm and strong, Caleb gulped and didn’t know where to look. Downwards led him to that exposed triangle of thigh. To his chest was, well, his chest. But his face…! God, that face.

“Uh-errh– I– Im– You– You areee… Mohegan?”

“I am.” Nashoba’s tone was so polite and deep. “And you are English.”

“Yes! I am! Very English– Uh– I mean, obviously. Or we wouldn’t BE here, you and I, haha–hah!”

Nashoba chuckled. “Indeed.”

Caleb wanted to sink through the ground.

Philip stepped forward. “So, business, then?”

“And you must be his brother, Philip Wittebane.” And shook his hand too.

“I am!” Philip grinned. “So what did you have in mind?”

“A large cursed tree.” Nashoba put it simply. “If you cut it down, we won’t be angry. We’re just glad to rid off it from our grounds. And you can have it for free.”

“Oh..!” Philip nodded and looked at Caleb. “That’s a deal, right?”

“Uh– yes.”

Philip curled his lips in. What was wrong with him? He had never seen him this flustered before.

“Right. Well then, mister Nashoba, sir. Why don’t you take us to it?”

“My pleasure.”

So they did, and that’s how the Wittebane brothers got free timber.

Though, it kept the neighbours at a distance. It spread quickly that they had used a cursed tree to build most of their house. If the natives gladly got rid of such excellent timbre for free, then surely something was wrong with it.

They didn’t really get visitors. Not that the brothers minded, it gave them privacy.

The last thing Caleb put on the house was the door. A nice faded shade of greenish-blue. He put tarnish on it, to make it look less cursed. It didn’t help much, but a slight different hue at least.

“Welcome home, Philip.” Caleb said in the doorway, holding the door up for his brother.

“Thank you, Caleb!” And stepped inside. “Home sweet home.”

“Home sweet home.” And ruffled him.

They closed the door.

Smoke trailed from the stone chimney.

The sun settled over Gravesfield.

And all was well, for now.

Chapter Text

Philip flipped back and forth between two pages of anatomy. Copying it down onto a sheet of paper next to him. Above the drawing it stood WITCH ANATOMY.

Extra nipples were one sign of a witch. But that was too hard to spot unless you saw them nude. And, if Caleb’s outrage had been anything to go by, spying on people taking a swim to see if they had any signs of being a witch was… Socially unacceptable. Even if it was in the name of trying to find a witch.

He never really understood what the big idea was with nudity. Sure, he liked girls, they were pretty to look at. But he just didn’t understand the hype about wanting to hold their hands and kiss. What was the point, anyway, if you couldn’t have an intellectual conversation with a girl? Until he found one that had a brain, he wasn’t interested. And if Sarah was any reference to the sort of girls he was surrounded by - any conversation of intriguing substance was nowhere to be found.

So while other boys were busy whistling, and fighting each other, for a girl’s attention; Philip was busy studying anything and everything his fingers could grasp around.

Philip’s main hobby of study, if you could call it that, was witches.

He wanted to know everything about them. How could they do magic? Where did it come from? How did the devil give magic to them? There were no study on how they worked, only what evil they committed and instructions on what to do with them once caught. But Philip needed to know. He had to know. Not only because it would serve his future dreams, but also sedate his morbid curiousity of forbidden knowledge.

What changed a person, physically, that gave them the ability to do supernatural things? It must be anatomical. Spiritual only made sense if it was disembodied manifestations. But scientific method held every answer. Philip believed that God let humans have science to find solutions to their problems — in whatever shape the problem took. Even witches.

Was it the extra nipple that held the magical components? If you cut it off, would that fix it? Or was it something else?

Could you cure a witch in some other way than kill them? You could stop a vampire from rising from the grave if you nailed them down into the coffin upon burial and put a rock in their mouth. You could also bury them face down so they would dig themselves deeper rather than up to the surface. But could you cure it? Maybe it was like an illness? And illnesses could be leveled if you measured your fluids! You might have too much blood in you, or spit - in which cases you could use leeches to let out blood, or puke to get rid of excess saliva.

Surely, spiritual illnesses could be cured, right? Melancholia could be cured... Right?

What if he could find out how the witches obtained their magic? What if he could use it himself, fight fire with fire?

If witches stored the magic in lets say.. Their lungs, or hearts.. Should you strike them in the chest to free their soul from the bounds of the devil? Were there any way to rescue someone who had become ensnared in witchcraft? Fire was meant to cleanse them, and pain surfaced a person’s soul from sin and gave the victim clarity to be truthful.

But Philip needed to have solid proof.

God made the devil, too, God made everything - he must've made magic too. Maybe this was a tale similar to Prometheus - the titan that stole fire and gave to the humans. Maybe Philip could be like Prometheus? Steal the knowledge of magic from witches, from the Devil, and use it to save everyone from ever going to Hell.

Then nobody would ever have to be afraid.

The best way to find out how it all worked was to ask a witch. And the best way to get a witch was to hunt and capture them. Make them spill their secrets.

There must be a way to win against evil.

Just like in Caleb’s stories.

He wanted to make Caleb’s stories come true.

Philip understood now that it had been Caleb’s way of teaching him about life, his brother’s way of raising him with examples to follow. Caleb couldn’t read the bible to him, after all, so his own stories had to make do.

The stories were the foundation of Philip’s sense of valour and morality. They had taught him everything about being daring, caring, having courage, being true and loyal to your word. To do what is right and honourable — to always, always, no matter how difficult it got; to have faith that the good will always prevail.

Because if you gave up, that was it. It was the end of the story. 

“Alright then. He gives up!” Caleb said. “There you go, the story is over. Now sleep.”

“No!” Little Philip pleaded. “No, it can’t end there!”

“Oh? But you doubted ! And you're right; what’s to say he will win in the end? What if he doesn’t? Then aaaall of that stuff he did in the name of saving the princess was in vain. He should just give up now. Go back home before it gets worse.”

“But… Yes, it’s hard, but he should continue. He can’t end it there, there must be a way…”

“Oh yeah? Despite it all, he should go on?” And Caleb grinned, proud.

“Yes.” Philip had smiled up at him, blue eyes shining. “Evil can’t win. The princess still needs him. She’s all alone with that cruel blue giant. He might do unspeakable things to her! Or eat her!”

“She does need him, and nobody else volunteered to rescue her. You’re right, it can’t end there.” And coughed to get back into his storyteller voice. “The hero knew, that even if the frost was biting his clothes and freezing his hair… His love kept him warm. His faith kept him moving. The last thing to leave man is hope, Pip.”

“He carries on.”

“Always. He can’t give up, he has sacrificed too much, and she needs him; who else will come if not him? Until all this evil he’s been through has turned to something good in the end, he won’t stop. For if it’s not yet good, it is not yet the end.”

You could always choose to carry on.

Philip wasn’t stupid, he knew Caleb dreamed of being more than a woodsman. He heard it in how he told the tales, he saw it in how his eyes glittered. And Philip knew it, when Caleb brushed his hair and tried to look dapper, that he wished to be above where they were in society. Why else did he do that stuff? And he remembers when Caleb went witch hunting; that look of hunger for danger, adventure, his voice raising courage for the others in the face of absolute evil. Caleb was golden.

But for some reason, Caleb had given up on it. As though his dreams didn’t matter, as though he was too stupid to get beyond their current means.

As though only Philip could go places, alone, without him.

The real hero here was his brother. If it was Caleb, everything was possible. Philip would follow him anywhere.

And he had, his whole life! He bore witness to everything. He had seen Caleb climb into the windows of kitchens, winking at him as he stole food and clothes, risking his hands or tongue to be cut off if caught. But he never took anything more than what they needed at the time. God must be nodding in approval then, for Caleb was never caught.

Philip had witnessed Caleb slay a demon-wolf. He had watched him cheat at cards with violent men and get away with it, win money that were all put into building a home. Philip had seen Caleb dance around in conversation until trouble turned to favour.

Caleb did devious things - for a good cause. Caleb was a chronic hypocrite with all that pray-to-god-and-be-good talk, but he continued sinning, but God let him get away with it. Because Caleb sinned with his heart in the right place. 

And that, Philip thought, is what mattered. It was okay to sin, if you were doing it for a valiant cause.

That cheeky grin. It put confidence in anyone. He was Philip's hero. And Philip could see their future like like you could feel the heat of a party through a door.

He wished he had Caleb’s confidence, his fearlessness. Philip didn’t want to be scared of monsters any more. Gravesfield was always in distress, fear itched them like fleas.

He had heard rumours of another witch.

Philip did his best to pretend it didn’t frighten him. He still kept that mask with him in his room. He knew it was childish, but he had so much attachment to it now that if he didn’t feel safe without it. Some have a blanket, others a doll or a lucky glove. Philip had a mask.

He knew he looked weird when he put it on during hangings. But he couldn’t help it. It was just safer, he felt like he could actually face evil if he wore it. He kinda wished Caleb had made him something more inconspicuous, like a wooden spoon or something.

But no.

A mask.

He tried it on, just for fun, and stared at himself in the glass of the window. He looked faint. Philip tilted his head and tried to imagine a witch looking in at him. Would a witch really not recognise him? Or was that just something Caleb made up for him? Probably. But he liked to think that simply believing it worked somehow made it work for real. Kind of like praying.

There would be a hunting again soon.

He hoped Caleb would join this time. He hadn’t participated the last time for some reason.

Philip could tell when Caleb was making excuses, he had heard every song and dance at least once.

The question was why? And why Caleb couldn’t tell him.

Philip hung his mask back onto its hook on the wall, and closed his books of anatomy and peeked into Caleb’s room.

He was still there, asleep, with his arm flopped over his eyes and his legs bent awkwardly to the left like he was frozen in a fall.

Caleb snored.

No Sunday mass today, then. Philip grinned.

Caleb was technically still sick, much better, but still sick. Philip was not one to wake his brother if it meant getting out of sitting in a dull church all morning.

Instead, he cooked onions he had brought up from the basement and made a pie out of them. Caleb would probably wake up in time for it, he could leave it cooking.

No work today, either. But being idle was not Philip’s style.

He put the pie in to cook and then drew a picture for Caleb of a loaf of bread and a pie, that he pinned under a glass by Caleb’s bedside. Caleb knew it meant Philip had gone shopping and there was a pie downstairs.

Philip was in charge of their money. He counted what was needed, wrote down what was taken from their box in his accounting journal. He grabbed his market-wallet and off he went to town.

Evelyn whistled.

The duck did not whistle back.

“Hm.” Evelyn wrote that down. “Not a whistler…”

The duck quacked.

“Aha!” And wrote down that ducks quack and honk. “Interesting. I wonder if humans like the sound of ducks, or if they prefer the sound of pigeons.. hmm…. Music… Bagpipes?”

She had a list going at the moment.

See, what perplexed the socks off of her was that humans never appeared to do anything fun. They worked, toiled, went home, cooked and then slept. At least on the surface, that was how it looked.

And after all her conversations with Caleb about what constitutes a sin and how everything, that was remotely enjoyable, was a gateway to fall straight down into hell, she concluded that maybe humans simply avoided fun all together.

But that couldn’t be true. She had found evidence of merriment!

People fell in love, laughed, and she had heard songs from the pubs. She had never dared going in there. There were too many humans, and she wasn’t confident in blending in with such a snugly crowded space.

Food, and cooking, was one of the times Evelyn had witnessed humans being close and enjoying one another company without a sight of guilt. Even Caleb happily cooked and served mince pies, he had mentioned something called flapjacks he promised to make for her sometime.

She thought of Caleb and smiled.

A friend.

She wondered if he was doing any better today, and if she could come by later and bother him with her research.

Surely, humans must have some regular entertainment!

Evelyn was writing in her book, letting the stray duck take her wherever it was waddling. Why not follow it? It was goofy looking, and going around Gravesfield at random had always served her best to stumble upon new events.

She turned to her right. Across the street was the gallows. Nobody hung there at the moment, but the barren platform echoed of death and terror.

Evelyn returned to her book. Looking at that thing was like looking down a dark hallway with an open door at the end of it. It was just one of those things you don’t linger on doing.

“Give it back.”

Evelyn saw Philip in-between two boys.

“Or else what?” The taller and thicker boy sneered. He was holding Philip’s market-wallet high above his head. “C’mon, try to get it.”

The wallet was a practical, rectangular bag, that you slung over your shoulder that could hold a good amount of wares.

Philip crossed his arms. He would not suffer the indignity of trying to pursue something that, obviously, would just make him look small and stupid. And so, when Philip didn’t try to get it, the boy wore it over his neck himself.

“Just give my wallet back. I’m busy.”

The boy threw it over Philip’s head to his friend. Philip turned around with a sigh.

He extended his hand out. “Please?”

“PlEaSe.” The lanky boy mocked. “Please he says. So polite. You think you’re better or something?”

“No.”

“Yeah you do. But watch yourself, Philip. You’re just a slag, it doesn’t matter if you're smarter or whatever. You’ll always be a lesser breed–”

Philip sighed loudly. “I’m not interested in Sarah. If you like her so much, just talk to her. I'm sure she'd be thrilled to know a boy wanted to give her attention, trust me.”

The lanky boy blushed and Philip took his chance to try to grab is bag but got shoved to the ground.

Evelyn plucked up the duck. It didn’t mind much, it was just confused as she was holding it out at arm's length and walking with a stride.

“Shut up! You don’t deserve her! I don’t get what she sees in you–”

“HEY.” Evelyn only slightly towered over the boys, duck in hands. “You got a problem with Philip or something?”

“Uh–”

And threw the duck at his face. The duck quacked and flapped, the boy yelped, the duck bit him on the nose and the boy screamed even louder.

Philip snatched his wallet and Evelyn took hold of his arm and began to drag him off and away, leaving the boys with the now very angry and battle-ready duck.

Evelyn and Philip peered out from around a house corner, and then back into the alley at one another.

“Hello!” Evelyn smiled and waved. “You good there, Philip?”

“...Yes.” Philip dusted off his casual wear. She wasn’t used to seeing him outside his nicer clothes, barely recognised him with his tiny ponytail too. “Nice seeing you too Miss. Clawthorne.”

“You can just call me Evelyn, Philip.”

Philip put his wallet back over his shoulder. “Alright, if you don't mind it.”

“Of course not!” And looked him over. “Are they bullying you often? Does Caleb know?”

“Er-! Don’t tell him, please. It’s fine. Really.”

“Doesn’t look very fine to me… You sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine.”

She pouted. “What’s with you and your brother saying you’re fine when clearly you’re not.”

Philip shrugged.

“What are you doing out and about anyway?” She asked.

“Groceries.” He patted his shoulder. “The.. Food you brought ran out, and I’m sick of onions.”

“I like onions! Sweet and mushy.”

“Not if they’re every day. I’m just buying flour for bread, and I bought some pork and milk too.”

“Oohh! Nice! Nice, nice…!” And she curled in her lips.

She wanted to ask if she could come along, but after returning for a visit yesterday and seeing Caleb was doing better than how she had left him two days porior, she didn’t want to impose herself. Especially since Philip was there too and Caleb got nervous about them being around one another.

Probably because she was a witch. She wasn’t sure why? Philip and her were getting along! And if Caleb didn’t mind her witch-hood, then surely neither would Philip!

Philip smiled and rolled his eyes. “Dooo yooouuu… Want to come along?”

She gasped. “Really? I can?”

“Yes.” But pointed at her. “But promise not to tell him about the bullies. I can handle it myself. I don’t need my big brother saving me all the time. I got.. Stuff to prove.”

She tilted her head. “Alright, I promise. But I think you should talk to him about it.”

“Mh.” Philip stroked a sling of hair behind his ear. “He’s just going to go talk to their parents. It’ll just make it worse.”

“Or he has advice on how to deal with them on your own!”

“I’m sure, but when it comes to me, his advises adverse from what he himself would do. If he pulled up his fists, he would tell me to run.” He shrugged. “He just doesn’t see me as his equal.”

Evelyn pouted. “That’s not true. I think he just knows you’re very different from one another! You’re not as strong as he is. It would be unwise of him to advise you to fight if you would get hurt! The same way you wouldn’t advise him to go to court and represent himself. Right?”

Philip blinked. She had a point. “I.. Suppose.”

“Right! Give him some credit. He thinks very highly of you.”

“I know but.. Sometimes I don’t think I can live up to his hype of me.” After all, Caleb was just amazing and of course he would hype up his nerdy little brother. That's what good big brothers do.

“Oh, I know that feeling.”

“You do?”

“Yep. My mom always brag about me! And sometimes I’m like; Haha, what did you tell these people? I’m just some girl with her nose in her books all day. I’m not a superstar.”

“Yeah, like that! Exactly. I wish he’d tone it down a little. Just a teeeensy bit. He knows so many people! And he’s amazing, I can’t be compared to him. Sometimes strangers walk up to me all: Are you Caleb’s brother? I heard about you! And I’m like: Who are you?!” He groaned. “And then they’re like: I heard you knew everything about this guy named Kepler, I was wondering if you could settle a debate between me and my friend . And like–” Philip tapped his fingers at his forehead and squinted, puzzled. “Wha-What am I supposed to do with that–?! I don’t know! I wasn’t there! At least provide me the arguments! You know? I can’t just– It depends! And, besides, I’m busy! Or.. Whatever I’m doing!”

Evelyn laughed. “Yes!! Exactly! Gosh, you get me.”

And Philip smiled up at her and stroked his hands. “Um… Do you know who Kepler is?”

“Not even a little bit!”

“Oh..”

“But if you wanna talk about him, I’m all ears!” She cupped her hand behind her hair and scarf where her ears were hidden.

“Really? You would?”

“Sure! Why not?”

“Oh! Okay! Swell.”

And the two of them headed home to the Wittebane household.

Philip did his best to try explaining who Kepler was and why he was important. He could tell Evelyn was listening, though not really getting it, but was glad anyway. At least she didn’t zone out like Caleb did.

“Do you not have any friends you can talk with about that Kepler guy?” Evelyn asked after they reached the front yard. “You sound really into him and his astronomical studies.”

“Er, astronomy is kind of… Not… Encouraged, I guess? Unless I was an indispensable person like Gov. John Winthorpe Jr. He’s written some essays on it and nobody bats an eye. But I’m not gentry.” Philip shrugged. “So if I do it, I’m weird.”

“But astronomy is really helpful. Especially for farming and seasons.”

“I know!” Philip threw his hand out. “Like weather stuff in general, honestly! And nature! It’s God’s own magic! It’s right there for us! God made science for us to use! And I bet you there is more hidden out there for us to discover!” He grunted. “Besides, witches use unnatural magic! If we harvest the sciences of our world, we could discover ways to defeat them! Maybe even counter their witchcrafts!”

Evelyn chuckled nervously. “Oh, yeah..?”

“Yes! I mean, think about it! Witches fly, right? But if we know which weathers they can and cannot fly in, we can use that to fight them! Knowledge, Evelyn, is power.”

“Ah.. Haha..! Agreed! Knowledge is power!” And grimaced.

“Yes!” He sparkled, happy to be talking about anti-witchcraft with someone else other than Caleb. “Oh! You should see my essay on thunder and brooms!”

“Uh.. Sure..!” She nodded, hands on hips. “I.. Yeah! Sounds fascinating. I heard that, uhhh, witches fly on.. brooms. And thunder sure is scary.”

“Exactly! And, did you know that in Europe they put brooms upside down against doors to protect the house against evil during thunder? Because in an old pagan tradition, the broom represented a tree that they worshipped and–”

“Oh! Like a palistrom tree?”

Philip blinked. “A what?”

“Palistrom tree.” She pointed at their house. “Like the cursed tree you and Caleb got. It’s a palistrom tree.”

“Oh. Was it?” He looked at his home. “Huh. What.. Are they bad?”

“No, they’re just considered magical.”

“Oh! See, that’s exactly it then! Witches are pagans, kind of. Because they worship the Devil.”

“...Right!” She tried to remember how Caleb had described the Devil as. “Red-eyed, bat winged, horned guy.”

“Something like that. Cleft tongue and serpent-like tail. And claws!” He held up his hands, pretending to have claws. “Witches are corrupted humans, they sold their soul to the Devil in exchange for great power. So they’re lacking basic human… Remorse and morality, because their souls are.. like..” He motioned pressure with his hands. "Like, the soul is pushed down under a surface of evil. Like it's jailed in there, somewhere. Only death can save them sometimes."

“Woah, you know a lot about this stuff, huh?” And began to understand now why Caleb got nervous about her being around Philip.

“Yes.” Philip smiled from ear to ear. “One day, I’m going to be a witch hunter general with Caleb.”

“Really now?”

“Yes! We are going to cleanse the world of perdition, together!”

And Evelyn knew, then, that Philip’s dreams would someday have to stand face-to-face with heartbreak.

“Do you think Caleb wants that, too?”

“Of course he does.” Philip shrugged happily, like nothing else could make sense. “He’s excellent at hunting and every witch in Gravesfield fear him and his buddies.”

“is that so?”

“Absolutely! You know, one time he was surrounded, all alone, by three witches in the woods. Armed with just his pistol and his wits, he rounded them up!”

Evelyn blinked. “Really? That sounds.. Pretty incredible.”

“Right? My brother is amazing.” Philip’s eyes were full of admiration. “He’s a hero.. You know? My brother is kind of a big deal, I mean, at least when it comes to witch hunting.”

Evelyn tucked her chin down. “He’s still something even if he doesn’t do that stuff.”

Philip scoffed and swatted the air. “Obviously, but he was really shining when he was active in hunting! That’s how he made so many friends, too! People like him because he’s just so– so– Gah, there’s no word for it! And he was really gaining momentum, socially. People were beginning to call him the golden guard. How dandy is that?!”

Philip was flush with excitement and curled his hands into fists, shaking them with pride.

“I just–! I don’t get why he stopped.”

Evelyn knew. “Have you asked him?”

“Of course! He just dismisses me… I don’t know what’s the matter with him.” He crossed his arms. “He’s so… Glum, now.. And, er, you don’t mind me talking about this, right? You’re not a gossip, are you?”

She shook her head. “I’m not a gossip, no. And Caleb is my friend.” Evelyn tilted her head to the side, her copper bangs swooping like willow branches. “And I recall you mentioned he cries.”

“Yeah..” Philip kicked the ground. “He seems to talk to you, though. Has he, um, told you anything?”

Evelyn opened her mouth but closed it, and sighed. “It’s not really for me to say, Philip. He put his trust in me, I’m not one to break my friend’s trust. I made a promise.”

Philip nodded, both annoyed and grateful at the same time. At least he knew now that Evelyn was a trustworthy confidant, even for his own woes.

“Right.” Philip puffed and blew at his hair. “He’s probably awake now, we can go inside.”

They went inside and were greeted with song.

Caleb sitting with his back to the door, bucket between his feet as he was whittling away at a piece of wood, humming and singing.

“Won’t you whistle little bird - tell me of the tales you heard! - you can call the dullahan - He will chase me for my blood - but I still want to hear the end! - it will satisfy my little head! - So - Won’t you whistle little bird! - Tell me of the tales you heard! - Before the hounds shed all my blood - I must know how the witches brewed their.. uh… ... hub? Bub? Something.”

Caleb paused and let out a tsk-tsk.

“No, hm..” He tapped his knife in the air. “It doesn’t rhyme. Hum-Hum.. Won’t you whistle little bird–”

“Are you writing a new song?” Philip asked once there was a chance to not startle him.

Caleb turned around. “Oh! Pip, didn’t hear yoo– OU! Ev-Evelyn! Hi! Hellu!” And he stood up to greet her properly. His hair was still looking like he had been in bed all day. “How do you do?” And indiscreetly pulled a hand through it to cover up any mess.

“Good!” Evelyn responded. “Are you feeling better?”

“Ah– Yes! Thank you. I do. Thanks to you.” He paused. “Also, Evelyn, when someone says how do you do, you are supposed to respond with h ow do you do in return.”

“Oh? Really? Huh… Then how do I ask when-”

“After. I say, How do you do, and then you say, how do you do. And then I can say something like; How has the morning treated you? And then you can share.”

“Oh! Curious!” She snorted and Caleb smiled, enchanted.

“So how was your morning?”

“Good! Been writing in my book!” And she saw Caleb get uncomfortable, and glance at Philip. “...You know, my essay on Gravesfield.”

“Is that what you’re writing?” Philip asked.

“Yes, Gravesfield is.. Still pretty new! I just.. Like documenting small enclosed cultures like this one. Puritans live here, I thought, er, it is interesting to see how this colony differs from another.”

“As a hobby?”

“Yyyeeess?”

“Huh, strange hobby. But you are rather strange, so I suppose it makes sense.”

“Pip!”

“Oh come on! First time I met her, she was crossdressing!”

“I did.” Evelyn chortled. “That was fun. I still do! It helps with talking to people.”

“Why do you crossdress?” Philip put his wallet on the table and emptied it of the groceries. “It’s a bit queer, isn’t it?” And received a begrudging nudge from Caleb. “What? It is!”

“Maybe to you, not to me.” Said Evelyn and took a seat by the table.

“Well, you better not reveal yourself if you do, though. If people find out, they’re going to put you in the stocks or make you wear a scold’s bridle. Or something.”

“Philip...”

“I’m just saying. It isn’t every day we meet a woman of higher class running around in trousers. That’s worthy of its own documentation.”

“Philip.” Caleb grunted with a warning.

“I’m not judging Caleb, I’m just curious. And besides, she seems to lack the common sense of self-preservation. So… Someone ought to tell her so she doesn’t get in trouble.”

Evelyn just smiled and leaned into her hand. “I’m not as much of an airhead as you think. I know it can get me in trouble, I just do it anyway. I do what I want.”

Philip scoffed. “I don’t think you’re an airhead, I think you lack perception of the situations you put yourself in by being so carefree.”

Caleb blinked at his brother. “You’re not judging her for crossdressing…?”

“No? Why should I? Isn’t she our friend? Besides, she said she does it to explore conversation with people who otherwise wouldn’t talk to her. I’d say it’s a clever rouse.” Philip shrugged, smirking. “Disguised as one of the people you want to understand and write about, I think that’s a very through and academic approach. Not all science was discovered with ease. As an outsider, I’m sure she will see things we don’t. I’d like to hear what she finds when she’s done.”

“Thanks Philip!” Evelyn wobbled her head, all buttered up and flattered.

Caleb was too stunned to comprehend what he was hearing. “Well, yes, but it’s still sin– Sure. Right. Just… be careful, Evelyn.”

Philip was surprised that his brother gave in so quickly. There was no talk about the bible, or how it was sinful to crossdress, or how she could burn in hell or– Well, any of those things his brother usually turned to. He watched Caleb slink away towards the pie hat was cooling on the window.

He could see Evelyn’s pitiful look towards Caleb, like she knew something about this particular topic and his brother. Maybe it was a reason for his melancholy?

Philip put a pin on this in the billboard of his mind.

“I will, I am.” Evelyn replied. “Is that pie? Did you make it?”

“No, Philip made it. And yes! A mince pie, I let it cool.”

“What is a mince pie?”

Philip placed out plates and snorted. “You don’t know what a mince pie is? Surely you're joking?”

“No.” Evelyn was serious. “What is it?”

“It’s.. Well, you mince things you have at home and put inside a pie. That’s about it. This one's made out of onions.” Philip explained with the tiredness of a boy that has had too many onions in his days. “How can you not know that?”

“I uh, um–”

“She’s from Canada.” Caleb lied and sliced up the pie in three quarters to put on each plate. Evelyn noticed one was particularly slimmer than the other two, and that Caleb served that one to himself. “They don’t have mince pie there.” Caleb added onto the lie.

“Really?” Philip crooked a brow. “So what do you usually eat, then, Evelyn?”

“Oh! Um.. Chicken! I like chicken. And, ah, fish. And nuts. I can eat those!”

“Er, no, I mean, a dish.”

Evelyn squinted her eyes at the ceiling. What human dishes did she like? What had she tried? She liked spoiled milk, it tasted like the cupcakes of the demon realm, and eggs weren’t too bad. But none of those were dishes. She had tried cooking some stuff, though, from a human recipe book.

“I like salmon with mashed potatoes and berries. I forget what it’s called. It’s served with a lemon, I think. Or was it an apple?”

“Lemon.” Caleb said and took a seat after putting out cups and a jug of warm beer. “I think it’s just a regular salmon dish.”

“Expensive.” Philip added. “You have a lot of money at your disposal–” And got a light slap on the arm from Caleb. “Can I not ask???”

“It’s rude Philip. Don’t ask women things like that.”

“She’s our friend.”

Caleb gave his brother a stern look and Philip dropped it.

“You don’t have to share that, Evelyn.” And poured her cup with beer.

“Is it beer?” She asked. “Not water?”

“Er, the water has to be boiled first.”

“Oh!” she sipped the beer. “Oh, it doesn’t taste very alcoholic.”

“No, it’s.. Well, not that kind of beer.” And gaped a few times at her, as she was already sipping her drink without saying grace first. He wasn’t sure if he should stop her or not.

Philip narrowed his eyes at her. “You don’t know that either?” And received another slap on the arm, but harder this time. “BEER, CALEB! Evelyn, do you live under a rock or something?!”

She laughed. “Kind of! I live in a cave!”

“..What?”

“S-She’s joking. She lives in the expansion part of town, you know, that new place full of strangers?”

“Oh, there. East side, right?”

“Heheh, yep!” Evelyn poked her pie with a fork and Caleb cringed at her. “Thaaat’s where I live–”

“G-Grace, first, Evelyn.”

“Mh?”

“Grace. We say grace, first. Before we eat.”

She blinked at him.

He stared at her.

Philip darted his eyes between them. “Don’t tell me you don’t know grace, either?”

“Uhh..”

“Are you not a Chri–”

“Do you mind if I say grace, Evelyn? I know you said your family are Christian but not–- er, uh, practising it strictly, like we do.” Caleb was staring pleadingly at her, hoping she could somehow read his mind and just go along with this backstory he was making up for her. “But ah, it’s important to me. So, would you mind?”

“Not at all. Go ahead.” She gestured for him to say grace, having no clue what it was.

Caleb and Philip put their hands together, and Evelyn followed suit.

“Blessed be your name, O Lord, for these good benefits wherewith you have refreshed us at this time. Lord, forgive us all our sins and frailties; save and defend the whole church; and grant us health, peace, and truth, in Christ our only Saviour. Amen.”

“Amen.” Philip sighed.

“...Amen?” Evelyn said quietly, unsure if she was supposed to or not. But Caleb gave her an approving nod.

“Now we may eat.” Caleb gestured at the food.

Evelyn made a note in her mind to ask him about the religious stuff more. Maybe she could read this bible thing at some point, to figure out why everyone here was so afraid of offending their god - even thanking them for the food. It clearly had an impact on their culture.

Oh! Culture! That’s right! She could ask the Wittebane brothers what they did for fun!

“Oh, by the way, boys.” Evelyn cut a piece of her pie and the two brothers turned up to her. “What do you two do for fun around here in Gravesfield? I can’t seem to find a single merry thing to do.”

“Easy.” Philip said. “The pub is fun. There’s also watching trials, executions when they happen. It’s fun to go horse riding in the fields, if you have one–”

Caleb shuddered. “Horses are awful.”

“Just because you’re afraid of them–”

“Not afraid! Reasonably aprehensive! They have a mind of their own and they can kick someone straight into a coffin. Have you seen their eyes?! Demons! Demons made of muscle and sheer power.”

Philip rolled his eyes and shook his head at Evelyn like get a load of this guy. “Either way. There’s those things, and if you have friends there’s always writing poetry and music together.”

“Ooh! Poetry and music!”

“We don’t do that.” Said Caleb and was already halfway through his slice. “We are saintly Christians. Music is a slippery slope to sinning.”

“Weren’t you composing a song when we got here?” Evelyn asked and Caleb stared at her, caught.

Philip snorted loudly and received a glare from his brother.

“...Maybe. But I shouldn't.”

Like every other thing he shouldn’t do, Evelyn thought, but couldn’t help himself anyway.

“Oh stop.” Philip sighed. “You hum, sing and whistle all the time! It’s not even that bad. I think it’s nice! And people like it! And as soon as we are in the pub, and you get even a little drunk and feeling merry, you’re first if not second one to start a choir.” He turned to Evelyn. “You know, people buy him drinks just to get him in the mood of it! That’s how much they like it. And people talk about it for days! And they sing his songs as they work the weeks henceforth!”

Caleb blushed. “Th-that’s– Philip, you’re being boastful. It’s not that special.” Philip arched his brows at him and sipped his beer. “I don’t try to stand out or anything! It just happens…”

“You’ve had several songs go popular, Caleb. Which was the latest one? Poor wee sinner?”

Caleb stabbed the last bit of pie and sank into his shoulders.

“The priest didn’t approve much of your jolly tunes, but people did! People love you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say anything bad about you! At least nobody that matters.”

Caleb grumbled and finished his pie. “You’re hyping me up, Pip. You’re going to make Evelyn think I’m somebody important.”

“But you are. You are the only person who don’t seem to think so.”

Caleb sighed and folded his arms against the table. “I don’t know where you could’ve possibly gotten those ideas from.”

“Everyone! People tell me! They go; Oh, aren’t you Caleb’s brother? Is it true he fought three highway men i the forest? Was surrounded by witches once, and killed a demon wolf?” Philip flailed his arms. “Like, all the time!”

Caleb grimaced.

“Is it true?” Evelyn asked, and Caleb met her golden eyes across the table.

“Uh.. It’s exaggerated.”

“Oh, so there is a truth to it?”

“Sure.” Caleb shrugged and itched his cheek. “It wasn’t three highway men, it was one drunk man with a knife.” He rolled up his sleeve to show off a scar on his arm. “I’ve never been surrounded by witches, it was one witch I wound up finding by myself in the forest, and he had a loaded pistol, I didn’t. I only had a pitchfork. He was scared, and I had to calm him down, make him believe he would be okay if he came with me.”

Caleb’s plate was full of crumbs and he pinched one.

“I lied to him. Got the pistol from him, wrestled him down. That's it.”

And ate it.

“The demon wolf was... I was younger. It was surely just a very scary wolf.”

“He was covered in blood! And he saved me. The wolf would’ve eaten me. I saw him slaughter it. You’ve always been brave.”

Caleb shifted in his chair. “Mh… But I was worried all of those times.”

“Nu-uh. I’ve seen you plenty of times, you’re all smiles and quick wit, no trace of fear in you.” Philip held up his fists, sparkling, as he recalled the tales he had both heard and witnessed of Caleb. “Evelyn! Caleb has gusto no other man in Gravesfield has! When nobody volunteers to do danger, he does it! Because he’s just like that.” And looked up at Caleb with his chest full of pride.

Caleb lopsidedly smiled. “That’s very sweet, Philip, but not true. You shouldn’t exaggerate.”

“But it is true! Remember when there were pirates in town? Who finally asked them to leave?”

“I did. But–”

“And did you not get chased across town, with both swords and pistols? And not only managed to get out of that whole and safe, but you got two pirates arrested, and they also did leave town in the end?”

“Yes, but–”

“You should have seen him, Evelyn! He was incredible! He climbed a bunch of barrels by the harbour and was up on a roof, fighting the captain’s first mate! Caleb kicked him off the roof into a pile of horse–”

“He slipped. I was lucky.”

“Stop downplaying it! People still talk about that.”

“No they don't. It was three years ago, I’m sure people forgot. Besides, it was a little embarrassing...” He bashfully turned back to Evelyn. “All that happened was that I picked a fight I couldn’t handle and ran around like an idiot. That’s it. The arrest was not due to me, and they left because they felt silly about all of that, too.”

“People still talk about it!”

“I never heard of it, I would prefer if they didn’t. I was a clown.”

“Stop it! You were not a clown! You are the only one who thinks that!”

Caleb smiled with a sigh and looked at Evelyn like; get a load of this guy. And she softly chuckled. The brothers weren’t too unlike one another, it seemed.

“Pip, I know it offends you so when people call me a half-wit, but–”

“YOU’RE NOT!” Philip yelled. “I get mad because it’s so untrue!! And they know it is!! They compare you to the likes of Adam Cross!”

“Hey, now, don’t be mean about Adam. He’s slow but very kind–”

“And you’re nothing like him! He’s clearly a real half-wit!”

“I can’t read, Philip. That’s what makes a half-wit too. Adam and I are just two types of fish in the same pond. Don’t treat Adam any different from how you would want me to be treated.”

“AUGH! No!” Philip pulled at his hair. “You’re not the same at all! Stop it!”

Caleb grinned and Philip realised Caleb was teasing him.

“Jerk!” And tried to fight his brother by pulling on his shirt and arm, but all Caleb had to do was put a hand on his face and hold him at arm’s length.

“Aw, c’mon, you’re just so cute when you get all mad like that.”

“It’s not funny!”

“A bit fun, for me!” Caleb gestured at Philip. “See, Evelyn, this is how we amuse ourselves.”

“Ah..hah!” Evelyn nodded. “Right. Um… So, what do you do at the pub?”

“Meet people.” Caleb let Philip go, who rubbed his nose. “Drink, eat, gossip..!”

“Oh, gossip?”

“Yes, that’s one of the biggest amusement we have. It’s like… We’re not supposed to do it, but it’s that one thing we all pretend we aren’t doing. But everyone does it. Knowing what is going on with the neighbours and people you never met or heard of is the most fun, honestly.”

“I see.”

“We don’t just gossip.” Philip huffed. “We also discuss the news of the world! Debate politics, share thoughts on literature and local published poetry. And don’t forget the newspaper.”

“Ooh!” Caleb tapped the air happily. “Newspaper! There’s always someone who spent pennies on that and reads it aloud at the pub! I love that!”

“Don’t you buy it yourselves?”

“Eh, maybe finer folks from the nicer parts of town can do that, but here in downtown Gravesfield: we share.”

“There’s been publications of the witch hunts.” Philip whispers like it’s the most exciting part of the paper.

Caleb glanced to his brother and then to the table. Evelyn folds her hands together after having finished her pie too.

“Oh..?”

“Yes! They never mention the hunters by name, but.. You know..” He elbowed Caleb. “Everyone here in downtown knows who the Golden Guard is.”

Caleb feigned a smile and stood up. Philip’s smile fell, recognising that look in Caleb’s eyes.

“It’s a good thing!” Philip tries when Caleb starts to pluck away the empty plates. “You have fame–”

“I have no fame.” Caleb dusts the crumbs on the plates into a jar with other crumbs. “And that’s a good thing. I don’t want people to know it’s me.”

“Why not? It would be great once we travel the world to hunt–”

“Philip. We aren’t going to travel the world.”

“Not with that attitude.” He grins to Evelyn. “Like I told you, we will be–”

“Philip, stop it. You can’t go around telling people things like that.”

“But it’s true.”

“No, it isn’t. I’m just Caleb Wittebane from Gravesfield. I’m not special, I don’t even want to be.”

Philip watches Caleb like he’s a big mystery. “I don’t get it. Who wouldn’t want that? It’s RIGHT there, Caleb. You- You are one of a kind. You’re just like the heroes in your stories and–”

“My stories are fantasy. They’re not real.”

“No, maybe the Lilac forest and those figures there aren’t real. But.. The bravery is! The love is. And I know you’ve been putting bits of yourself into the stories, too. And me. And people we know. Those things are real.”

Caleb stroked a wet rag across the plates before putting them back in their place on the wall. He let the silence hang in the house like a drapery of wistfulness. The brothers couldn’t quite see one another through it. Just barely shadows of the other.

“If you don’t want to be recognised for the folk hero you are, what do you want?”

Caleb scoffed. Folk hero? Is that what Philip thought of him?

“Philip, heroes doesn’t cheat at games, steal or lie. They don’t pick stupid fights. A hero don’t hurt the innocents. They do the right thing, even if it’s scary to do so, or even when doing the right thing means the worst of fates.”

Caleb and Philip were miles apart, worlds apart. Philip couldn’t understand what he was saying, and Caleb couldn’t be more honest than that with him.

“But.. You do do those things.”

“I run away. Your brother is a coward, Philip.”

“I’ve never known you to run away. I don’t get why you think so.”

“Then you don’t really know me.”

“I know you BEST!”

Caleb sighed. “Alright then.”

Philip pouted and turned back around on his chair, crossing his arms.

Evelyn put a hand on his elbow and he looked up and into her gentle eyes. It was nice to have someone else there, on his side, who could see that Caleb was too stuck in his own head.

She got up and went over to Caleb.

“Sorry about that.” Caleb chuckled. “He’s a little dramatic–”

“He admires you. I would be upset if someone talked down on my heroes too.”

Her words turned his chest into a pool of warm remorse.

“I know what you mean, Caleb. But maybe truth is in the in-between, you know? Maybe it doesn’t have to all one or the other .”

He sighs. “Maybe. But I’m really not some kind of–”

“I know. But I’ve heard things too.”

“You.. have?”

“Yes, before I met you, I asked around about the tree.” She knocked on the wall.

“Ah.”

“And I heard about the Wittebane brothers, who lived in a cuuursed~ house~! And then I heard about how smart the little brother was, and how brave the older was. That alone sounds like the beginning of tale, don’t it?”

“..Really? You’ve heard things like that?”

“Yes. You do have a reputation. I haven’t heard tall tales, though. I heard you were liked by people, charming, a huge flirt - which I struggle to imagine.”

“Flirt?!”

Evelyn laughed. “Right? Very silly. I can’t even picture it!”

Philip turned around on his chair again. “He is a flirt, he just thinks he’s being chaaarmiing~ and chivalrous, but people see it as flirty.”

Caleb blushed. “Wha-what?! I’m not – I don’t flirt! I’m not like that!”

“We know.” Both of them said in the same tone of voice, looked at one another, then snorted and giggled. Making Caleb blush more.

“Right.” Evelyn giggles. “So, we can agree there are half-truths, then, right?”

“Right..”

She elbowed him, and it got him to smile just a little. And she decided to turn the mood back around to something more merry.

“So, tell me more, boys. What do you do for fun?”

“Hm..” Caleb hummed. “Honestly, for you? The pub is probably my first choice.”

“Witch hunting!” Philip added. “Admit it Caleb, it is scary, but thrilling!”

“Er,” Caleb’s shoulders shot up, he rolled his wrist around. “Eeehh… I mean, it’s mostly scary.”

“Pfsh! Don’t be modest!” Philip stood up on his chair, fork in hand.

Philip liked Evelyn, she had been a good friend so far. And he could tell that Caleb was fond of her. In whatever way the two of them had crossed paths, Philip was grateful. She was strange, but so was Philip. And she could reach Caleb in a way he couldn't.

Honestly, he could even see his brother like-like Evelyn, the way he had begun to glance at her and get all extra-proper around her. Even if Philip’s numbskull of an oblivious brother couldn’t see it himself, yet. Philip, however, could. Because he KNEW Caleb. He was Caleb’s little sidekick, and proud of it.

Evelyn, for sure, would be impressed to know of Caleb’s feats of glory as a witch hunter. It’s one of the few things Caleb could brag about, but for some reason refrained from doing. Caleb had a reputation, aware of it or not.

And it was full of daring do’s and adventure.

“You know Evelyn! Only Caleb was brave enough to shackle the tulip-witch. Because she could curse anyone with her hands or words alone, even with her eyes! Like Medusa! But Caleb wore a blindfold and armed himself with a stick. He threatened to beat her if she didn’t comply! And she was so fearful of him hurting her, she let him.”

Evelyn listened with a stale back and void expression. Caleb glanced her way, and Philip interpreted that as him checking if she was enthralled or not. Aha! He knew he liked her! Of course, duh.

“Ah, Philip–”

“The hunters would sometimes spread out to cover more ground. And with fire, a pistol, or just a pitchfork he would face them alone. Heh, Caleb was almost always first to find them. Like the time we mentioned earlier, he had to tackle the witch. A male one! Burly cove too! And struggled with him in the night until reinforcement came! He even tried to curse him. But Caleb repelled it with prayer.”

“Uh– Um, Philip. It wasn’t like that.”

“You said it was.” Philip huffed. “In court, even.”

Caleb bit his lip. He didn’t dare to look at Evelyn, he could feel her eyes on him.

“I.. Yes. I did. Philip, that’s quite enough. Evelyn is too sweet for this kind of talk.”

“Oh.”  Philip turned to Evelyn, and couldn’t tell if she was uncomfortable or not. “Are you?”

“Um, no… But I don’t agree with witch hunts.”

“YOU DON'T?”

“It’s all spectral evidence. Most of the evidence I’ve heard of can be explained with actual reason and cause. Maybe at the expense and shame of someone lying, or having ulterior motives to get a so-called-witch to be sentenced and ridden off. But all in all, I think it’s a disagreeable practice, all this mayhem and group mania is good for nothing but fearmongering. The witches you have are all imagination.”

Caleb began to sweat.

Philip frowned, and scoffed indignantly. “Well, you have living evidence right here, then.” He flaunted a hand at Caleb, who turned to ice. “In court, Caleb got possessed by an evil spirit, willed by the tulip-witch.”

Caleb quickly looked down at the floor to avoid her.

“How do you explain that?”

Without missing a beat, she said; “He lied.”

And Caleb closed his eyes.

“You dare?!” Philip’s opinion of her sank several levels. “I was there! I saw what happened! He contorted on the floor, and–! And! Another fell bewitched as well! Did she lie too?”

“Yes.” Evelyn said simply. “She must have.”

“Oh, she must have, huh? And what do you base that on? Other than your personal opinion and bias of disbelief in the supernatural evil around us.” Philip laughed. “Can you believe this, Caleb? Say something.”

Caleb could not tell the truth. 

But if he didn’t, he was only putting kindle on the fire of lies. He was never going to be able to repent, was he? He had been a bad person. The oldest Wittebane had to be bad at the time, sure, but he had liked it and gone too far. It flashed into him; memories. How powerful he felt, how high on it all he had been.

The muscles in his cheek burned at the memory of grinning madly down at the burly man beneath him, how he pressed down the pitchfork’s shaft with strength he didn’t know he had. Cackling at the older man’s feeble attempts to get him off. The man’s eyes were ponds of mortal fear.

Caleb must have looked like a hungry wolf to him.

The tulip-witch's cries echoed in his head. She had begged him not to hurt her. He didn’t even have to hit her, just raise the stick and do that fake-out strike. How good it had felt to make someone else scared. A witch, no less. A heartless, devil worshipping, bitch.

And he remembered in court, when she almost made sense for her case. How, then, when she caught his eyes and he let himself drop to the ground. People filled in the blanks for him - He had been the one to shackle her, of course she would target him first!

But he had pretended. Why? He had no idea. He just didn’t want the witch to get away. Hopkins had looked at him and the other hunters with a pleading look. That was all the peer pressure Caleb needed to buckle.

Caleb was a liar. It was second nature to him. It was just like telling fairy tales. And he was good at it. So good. People praised him for his wits, his bravery. This stupid, illiterate boy was somebody when he made the witches run for their lives.

But who wants to be anybody that isn’t true? It wasn’t true: He wasn’t brave, he was scared, all the time. He was tired, all the time. He worried about it all catching up to him, all. the. time.

And now he had to lie again.

His heartbeat filled the room.

Caleb was a scale, in each hand sat Evelyn and Philip, but neither tugged for either side to weigh more. Both just watched and waited for him to tell a lie or the truth. His mind racing to find a third option, something to keep the scale at a levelled balance like this for eternity.

“Ev… Evelyn doesn't have to believe me.” He said, swallowing the frogs trying to climb out of him, facing neither. The floor began to move under his feet.

“That’s ridiculous!” Philip gestured at Evelyn. “There is method to their evil, spectral or not. And I am going to figure out its patterns and functions. And when I do, I will get back to you. And show you it’s real!”

“Very well.” Said Evelyn. “I look forward to that, then.”

“Indeed!” Philip got off the chair. “In fact, I have material upstairs I can show you! It’s just a draft, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I’m making a diagram, a journal. I am documenting the anatomy of a witch.”

“Is that so? …Why?”

“So we can kill them, of course! I want to start witch hunting on the side, too, with Caleb. And I will come prepared! Caleb has his bravery, I will have my methods. And then, we will frighten the witches away from Gravesfield - and then we will help other towns! And so on–”

The floor beneath Caleb’s feet turned to jelly now, his knees wobbled, he felt sickness in his neck and his vision turned dark at the corners.

Philip wanted to be just like him. He wanted to be just like him. He wanted to be. . just.. like.. him.

Caleb wavered his hand out to try to find something to hold onto, anything solid at all in the melting world he found himself in. The wall. His elbow buckled, and his shoulder hit it.

“..Caleb?” Philip asked and stopped his rambles. “Are you okay?”

He sank to his knees and hands. He couldn’t breathe.

“Caleb–”

“I can’t breathe.” The world was spinning, his head was full of smog. He was stuck in a storm.

Evelyn sat down with him.

“Cover your mouth, breathe through your nose.”

“I can’t– I can't–”

“You can. You are breathing too fast, you are getting too much air.” Her voice was slow and soothing. “Hand over mouth, breathe through your nose.”

So he did. He clamped his hand over his mouth, his inhales loud and noisy, and it was scary at first. It didn’t feel like he was doing himself a favour. It was harder to breathe like this. But slower. It was slowing down.

Caleb squeezed his eyes shut and put his hand over his chest instead.

Deep in there, his heart was drumming violently. But he could feel it slow down too. Slower.. Slower.. Until calm pulsated through his body again.

“There.” Evelyn said, and he dared to find her eyes. He felt undeserving of how kindly she was looking at him. How could she not judge him, at least a little bit? But Evelyn just took his hands and hoisted him back up to his feet when he looked ready.

“What.. Was that ?” Philip asked carefully. “Are you okay? What was that?”

“Uh.. I don't know.” Said Caleb honestly.

“Do you think it was a witch?” Philip asked. “Like, hearing us talk about witches and–”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Caleb inhaled, exhaled. “I’m sure. I’d know the difference, right? I’ve been afflicted before.”

“Right.” Philip threw a look at Evelyn. “See? He would know! And this is the kind of distinction I need to document, so even smart people like you will see this is a field of undiscovered academia too.” 

Evelyn nodded politely, she had nothing to say to it. “Why don’t you show me your witch research then? I’m sure we can add this distiction in there, and.. you could have an opportunity to convince me.”

“Oh, yes, sure. Of course! If you want.” 

“Sure.” But Evelyn just wanted Philip away for a moment.

Philip got excited and went to the stairs, but stopped by the first step. “... Are you really okay, Caleb?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I was just– I don’t know.”

“Anxiety attack.” Evelyn explains. “You got stressed over the conversation. That’s all.”

“Why would it stress him out?” Philip furrowed his brows at Caleb. “Are you.. Does it stress you out?”

“...A little bit, Pip.”

And Caleb watched Philip’s expression go from confusion to empathy to guilt.

“Oh… But, why? How? You’ve never had a hard time talking about witches before? I mean, you hunt them–”

“Because I’m scared of witches, Pip. Alright!? I–I’ve fought them, yes! But I’ve–” He rubbed his forehead. “My last hunt didn’t end well, that witch really got to me a bit– I was– I need the break, okay? That’s all. I’ll be good! Soon! I’m sure! I’m still me! Haha! Just… I need time, you know? Before I join again… I already promised Mister Hopkins I would join next hunt. Yeah? Good? It–It just– I’m just– Even I get scared, Philip, and... And I can’t tell you that because you–”

The brothers looked at one another across the room.

“...Because you admire me so much. I don’t want you to think less of me.”

“..Oh.” Philip lingered on the stairs. “I.. I don’t think less of you. I wish you had told me, though. I wouldn’t have pressed about you joing again so soon if had I known.”

“Right! Right… Well, right. I’ve told you now, so.. There.” Caleb breathed out. “Okay?”

“..Okay.”

“Good. Go. Go get your witch book thing. Your research. I’m sure if you can convince someone like Evelyn, you’ll know your research is going the right way..! And for sure, hunters like you and I could need clever academics like her on our side, eh? Especially in court! Your research could really help pin the weasely ones down! Like those of higher social standing - those always slip away.”

The sweat poured down his back. What was he even saying!?

Philip heard the you-and-I and his spirit swelled.

“Right... Yes! Okay!”

And Philip skipped upstairs to get his things.

Caleb breathed out again. Evelyn’s presence by his side like an open furnace. He gulped.

She wasn’t saying anything. And all that stuff he just said to Philip was clawing down at his face and throat. Why had he encouraged him like that? It just came out of him, he didn’t want to crush Philip’s little pleasures of fun by saying he sided with Evelyn now, actually. Witch hunting was barbaric and, honestly? More devilish of a practice than anything else in this town. And the devil was doing a master work with it, too, for nobody could say that aloud without being put under the suspicion of witchcraft themselves.

Why wasn’t she saying anything? He felt her watch him. She must hate him now.

“You– You can judge me if you want.”

“I don’t judge you.”

“Evelyn, please, I can feel your judgement burning my skin.”

Evelyn sighed. “Nothing I say will make you believe me. And even if I did judge you, you do plenty of work punishing yourself enough. You don’t need my help doing that.”

He looked at her. She looked at him.

“But all that stuff I just said to Philip, I–I– I didn’t mean it. I don’t agree with his research, I don’t think it will fruit to anything ripe, I’m– I was just trying to– He was looking at me like that and I just–”

“I know.”

“And those witches he talked about, that– I was–”

“I understand, you don't have to explain yourself.” Her hand found his forearm and gave him a light squeeze.

“Ev, it could have been you, your sisters– How can you not hate me?”

“I just don't Caleb.”

And he searched her eyes, climbed into her soul, threw the curtains of her open, and her stage was empty. There were no hoofs, no masks, just Evelyn looking at him and tilting her head pitifully. How couldn’t she at least host some anger towards him? Some shade of resentment for whom he had been?

“Why not..?” He whispered, finding nothing as he searched her soul for crumbs to feed his self-loathing with. “Why not..?”

Her faint smile, her small shrug, was all he would ever get as an answer. He would never understand why she didn’t.

Caleb could feel her lift his curtain, see all of his masks, see all his costumes and towers of fantasies he had told and crafted, even that awful red thing in the corner. He felt her walk amongst it all, like it was just another backdrop and not the hell of his own making.

And, in the midst of his hell, see him as the man he was today. And still, she remained.

He whispered, as low as he could, so Philip wouldn't hear. And even then his words felt too loud.

“You should.”

“But I don't.”

He was lost in her unyielding kindness.

Philip came downstairs empty-handed.

“Where’s your book..?” Caleb asked.

“Another time.” He said. “I thought better of it.”

“What?” Caleb’s tune had turned a smidge low. “You jump at any opportunity otherwise to ramble on about your research, and now you got both Ev and I–”

“But it stresses you out, right now.” Philip’s voice was modulated, like he was trying to sound older and mature. To emphasise, he stretched his back too. “So.. Another day. I am capable of patience, Caleb.”

“But..” He somehow felt like the youngest in the house now. 

A red hand, deep inside the dark pools of himself, grabbed onto his legs. He shook it off.

“But, uh, haha, that’s… Are you sure?”

“Yes. Another day. Right, Evelyn? You don’t mind seeing my research on witches another day, do you?”

“Not at all.” She mannerly bowed her head and smiled.

“Oh. Okay. Then.” Caleb stretched his hands by his sides stiffly. The two of them staring at him again. He couldn’t bare it. He put a mask on and grinned. “Alright! Well, then, I don’t know about either of you! But I~ could do with a drink. How about it? Eh? Let's go to the pub.”

“Pub sounds nice–” Philip said and got Caleb’s finger poking his forehead.

“Don’t think for a second that just because I think your witch-research can be of use to hunters some day, that it somehow makes alcohol any closer to your lips.”

“I know.” Philip rubbed his forehead, exasperated. “It's a social evil.”

“Exactly! Do as I say, not as I–”

“As you do, I know.”

“Atta lad.” Caleb grinned and ruffled Philip’s hair up.

Philip grinned back up at him, happy to see Caleb having pulled himself up again. Like he always did. Caleb was undefeatable.

And Evelyn saw the weariness in Caleb’s eyes under the mask Philip had come to know as Caleb's face. She could hear his racing thoughts just by viewing him; the way his chest still heaved, how the smile didn’t crinkle his eyes the way they should be. The grin held nothing except the burden he pretended wasn’t there.

“You’ll come with, of course, won’t you Evelyn?” Caleb extended his arm towards her, inviting her to take it and come with.

She smiled softly. “I would like to. But..” She brushed his hair back into place. “Don’t you want to comb yourself first?”

Caleb blinked and leaned a few steps over to their mother’s mirror. That’s right. He’d been here all day and hadn’t expected her to visit. He kind of appreciated that she remembered he cared about his appearance. It wasn't that she thought he looked bad, he knew that. It was that she knew he would think so and get anxious about it later. It softened him, knowing she already knew him so well. He wished to return the sentiment to her when he would have the chance.

“Right! Point taken! You two lovelies wait here, I~ will hasten upstairs, I won’t be long.”

And Caleb disappeared upstairs, leaving Evelyn and Philip to their privacy.

“Heh.” Philip nudged her with his elbow. “Did you hear that? He thinks it can be useful.”

She didn’t want to rain on his parade but.. “For sure, if it actually has any substance.”

“Hmph, I will prove you wrong, Miss Clawthorne! Mark my words. No witch in this town will be safe once I decipher their codes and system of operation! It’ll be like smoking rabbits out of the ground. Heheh..”

Evelyn folded her arms behind her back. “I see. Best of luck then.”

“Do you not believe in witches at all, Evelyn?”

“...Not the ones you believe in, no.”

“But you believe in them at least?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the difference between mine and yours?”

“Mine are real, yours are not.”

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

“Mine are real, for I have seen them. Yours are not, because when I see yours, all I see are scared innocent people who were bullied into confessions and lost their lives.”

“... You think they were innocent? You weren’t even here to see it.”

“Mh. I wasn’t. You’re right.”

“Well, lucky you then. There are rumours of another witch breweing. It’s said that Goodie Ann taught someone before she died. And now that witch is doing awful things to men as vengeance for hanging her teacher!”

Goodie Ann, that was the witch Caleb had told her of. Evelyn remembered the little, mysterious, smile of her wooden figurine. Bringing down the flowers, Caleb had called it. She wondered if Marcy Fiddle had succeeded in her abortion or not.

“Right, Goodie Ann, she was the one who tormented Miss Fiddle, right?”

“Aha! So you heard about it at least? Yes. She did. Poor Miss Fiddle, she’s pretty reclusive now. And her father is going to journey away to another town for a month, and her mother isn’t around. So she’s all alone now, but, I heard her aunt visits sometimes.”

“Shouldn’t… People worry a bit more for her?”

“Why? She’s safe now. Goodie Ann is dead.”

“Right. I just thought.. You know, if it’s a witch that was taught by Goodie Ann, wouldn’t they want to hurt Miss Fiddle for telling on her?”

Philip nodded. “That’s a good conclusion to make, actually… We should tell Caleb–”

“I heard.” Caleb came downstairs, his hair combed and the little blue ribbon he always wore was neatly tied. He had changed, too. He wore a vest under his jacket and instead of his usual green trousers he wore brown.

“Oh! Dashing!” Evelyn complimented and Philip noticed the faint blush on his brother’s cheek.

“These old things? No, no, I just thought.. I’ve been cooped up here for a while, we might see people I know. So-”

Philip scoffed. “Which is, like, all the downtown of Gravesfield. Pretty sure you know every dog and cat too.”

"Heh, That's not true, stop exhagerating Pip. Not everyone knows me and I don't know everyone." Caleb playfully shoved at his brother and sided up with Evelyn. “I heard you, by the way. About Miss Fiddle.”

“Well, wouldn’t she be of interest to speak with?” Evelyn and Caleb’s eyes met. Maybe ask who the father is, too?

“Indeed.” Caleb nodded. “You’re right.. She is.”

Philip looked between them, biting his lip happily and did his best to contain his excitement, but let a tiny squeal slip anyway. The two adults turned to him and Philip turtled down into his shoulders.

“Uh– I just think it’s thrilling, you know? I, uh, no pressure or anything. Or stress. Just.. It’s nice to see you, you know.. Investigate again.”

Caleb sighed. Evelyn wrapped her arm around his and smiled.

“Yeah.” She said. “Find the truth.”

Caleb could drown in her golden eyes. She was giving him a way to lie without lying.

“The truth.” He repeated. “I’d like to know the truth, too.”

And she grinned, like a fox, and it filled him with bubbles.

“YES!!” Philip pumped his fists. “Lets go! To the pub! Drinks! Maybe songs too?”

Caleb chuckled at his brother’s excitement. "Maybe songs too."

The three of them left the house, and Evelyn kept her arm hooked with his. Making him ten feet tall and his head full of glitter.

Evelyn looked at the boys, and then at downtown Gravesfield ahead. 

The truth, indeed. She wanted it too. Maybe then, if Gravesfield could see what was really happening here, that the witches they were thinking of were an imagination built with fear… Then maybe there was a chance for real witches and humans to meet? To be friends?

Philip’s research was futile, there would be nothing but nonsense and play pretend to find in it. She was sure. And if Philip allowed her to speak with him as equal academics, perhaps he would hear her feedback, her criticism, and see that the reason it didn’t make sense was because it wasn’t even anything there at all to find. Perhaps then both of the Wittebane brothers could know she was a witch, and have no fear.

Fear was the core of all of this. Maybe fear is what this Devil-thing they spoke of was made of.

She squeezed his arm. “I’ve never been to a… Pub.. before.”

“At all or…?”

“Around here.”

“Ah.” Caleb smiled down at her and put his other hand on top of hers. “Are you nervous?”

“A little bit.”

“I won’t abandon you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

It was midday, and the Wittebane brothers and the youngest Clawthorne daughter headed to the downtown pub, notorious for its cheap drinks, apple pies, and music that made puritans weak to sin.