The Alpha's Lost Witch

Morgan

Sunset is the best time to pick herbs. Most people think the best time is during the sunrise, but that’s actually a common misconception. Sure, if you’re on the lookout for common herbs like sage or basil, morning would be fine. But, the kind of herbs my mixtures and healing salves require can only be found when the sun bleeds orange and red.

I kneel down to pick a sweet cicely plant for the baker’s son, who has a stomach ache, and pause when I hear a rustle from behind me. I turn around and see a baby bunny hopping along after its mom. The animals in the woods are one of the reasons it’s my favorite place to spend my time. I’ve seen all different kinds of birds, deer, squirrels, owls, and sly foxes. Some of my special mixtures even require a bird feather or two, and the animals are all very accommodating. I’m never frightened in the woods near my village because I spent most of my childhood here.

I would trail after my mother, hanging onto the pale blue dress she wore most days, and she would point out all the different plants and herbs we could use in our mixtures to make people feel better. My mother would teach me the names and uses of everything and anything we could find in the woods. She would have nursery rhymes we would say together. I would pay close attention if she said anything was poisonous or deadly. She taught me everything I know. The woods near my village will always be a special place for me. The smell of dirt, the scents of the different types of herbs and flowers, and the woodsy aroma of tree bark still comfort me.

My favorite thing to do when it’s raining is go under a tree and add to my book of brews. This book has been passed down for many generations, and my mother gave it to me on my 15th birthday. Shortly after that, she was gone. That was three years ago now.

The book is beautiful, with a leather cover and intricate healing recipes and tricks. By the way I am living my life, I can’t imagine one day having a daughter I can pass this book down to. It makes me sad because I mostly live a solitary life, but it is necessary for my survival.

I open the book now to consult a picture of the toothache plant. I can’t remember if it’s yellow and pink or blue and green. I place my wooden basket, which I use to collect my ingredients, on the soft earth. I confirm the color. It’s yellow and pink, and I get lost in looking for a potion to cure back pain. This potion is for me because, despite my young age, I have to bend up and down to collect my ingredients a lot. This has caused me aches in my lower back that some days are hard to go by.

Then, I hear footsteps. I’m not scared. I recognize them. I listen to them often in the forest. The footsteps belong to the hunter's son, James. He enters from the dense forest, and I smile in greeting. James is a mere fourteen, but his muscles are significantly developed for a boy. He helps his father hunt and skin all the animals in our forest. Currently, he has three rabbits and four fish from the small creek in his possession. It hurts my heart to see the dead bunnies, but James and his father provide our primary food source, and it’s a necessary evil.

“Good evening, James,” I say to him and stand up, brushing off my dirty blue apron.

“Good evening, Ms. Morgan,” James responds, nodding politely. He looks at the setting sun, his blue eyes squinting. “Allow me to escort you back to the village since it’s almost nightfall. It’s dangerous for you to be in the woods alone at night.”

I know James is being kind, but I’m confident I’ll be safe. I even have about half an hour of light left from the sun. Also, I still have some ingredients to collect. But I don’t want to start any trouble, so I smile at him in gratitude.

“That’s very kind of you, James.”

I gather my supplies and follow him down the path to our village. We are silent for a while and listen to the sounds of the forest as it prepares for the sun to set.

“A young woman like you shouldn’t be in the forest at night. At least, that’s what my father always says. These woods are filled with monsters. Heaven forbid you run into a vicious wolf or a nasty, spellcasting witch,” James says and shudders at the mere thought.

This irritates me greatly, but I bite my tongue before saying something I regret. I simply nod. We make it into our small village, and the familiar surroundings calm me.

“Thank you for the escort, James. I do need to pop into the market before they close, though,” I say, wanting to get away from him as soon as possible.

We complete our goodbyes, and I go into the shop. I purchase a pitcher of milk and a loaf of bread to add to my supper.

“Ms. Morgan! I’m so happy I ran into you.” I hear a voice from behind me. It’s the town’s schoolteacher. She’s a lovely woman who is one of my best customers. I earn my keep by being my village's herbalist and crafting potions for common ailments. “My hip hasn’t hurt in nearly a fortnight since I’ve been using the ointment you gave me!”

“That’s amazing to hear, Ms. Cynthia. Would you like some more?” I ask her.

She nods, and we trade gold coins for more ointment.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Morgan. I hope you know the village appreciates all your hard work!” Ms. Cynthia praises me.

I thank her and head back to my tiny cottage. On the way there, a couple more townsfolk stop me and either express their gratitude for a healing mixture they’ve purchased or desire to buy some more. By the time I get home, my stomach is growling for dinner.

Quickly, I prepare a slice of bread and butter. I serve it with porridge and a glass of milk and dine by my fire to keep warm. When I’m finished, I take out my black cauldron and work on the orders I need to prepare for tomorrow.

The townspeople aren’t aware that the reason my healing potions are successful is because I’m a witch. As was my mother and the many generations that came before me. I have to be very careful to keep this hidden from my fellow townspeople because of their prejudice against things they don’t understand.

The book I’d inherited isn’t just for potions. The ancient pages are filled with complex spells and instructions on how to make charms and talismans. But my specialty is healing potions, salves, and ointments. While I’m in the middle of a brew to help a bee sting, there’s a frantic knock at my door.

Oh, no!

With haste, I gather anything that could mark me a witch and hide it.

“Just a moment!” I call in the calmest voice I can muster.

I smooth out my apron and open the door. James’s dad, our village's hunter, is standing in front of me. He’s so tall that I must look up to him to make eye contact.

“Good evening, Ms. Morgan,” he tells me. I nod in greeting. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I come to warn you. Today, my men and I found wolf prints in the forest. We’re going around and telling everyone to make sure their doors and windows are locked. We don’t know what kind of strength they possess.”

“Thank you,” I smile. He nods and then continues on with his duties as I shut the door behind him.

I always lock my doors, not because of fear for me but because I’m terrified someone will come and find my witchcraft supplies. I finish my work and get ready for bed. As I brush out my long brown hair, I think about my life in the village.

I enjoy my work and caring for the people of my village. I’m a respected healer and make a comfortable living. I keep to myself and live a mostly peaceful life. Yet, I’m in constant fear of being found out as a witch. Even though I’m very careful, I’m scared I’ll slip up and be ostracized by my village.

I fall asleep quickly, exhausted yet satisfied with my day's work.

The next afternoon, I’m back in the woods. Since the hunter went around and warned everyone about the wolf, I’ve had so many requests for healing salves. Thankfully, no one has been bitten yet, but the paranoia has spread, and no sickness is more contagious than hysteria. I’ve had fifteen requests for healing mixtures just this morning. I’ll have to work even longer to keep up with all the orders.

I’ve been stocking up on ginger roots and aloe because those are the main ingredients in most of my healing potions. I hum tunelessly to myself as I collect my items. The afternoon sun beats down on me, and soon I’ll need a nice cold glass of water. I daydream about wading into the cool creek and feeling weightless while I float on the water. Alas, I didn’t have time for a dip today with all the work I had to do.

Then, I see a pair of enormous yellow eyes in the trees.

I scream, dropping the ginger root I’ve been holding. Without even thinking of casting the protective spell my mother taught me, I take my wooden basket and sprint toward the village. I don’t even turn around to see if the wolf is following me. I’m pretty fast because of my slight figure and my time walking through the woods.

I take a shortcut to my cottage and lock the door when I enter my home. I gulp down three cups of water and catch my breath. Before I start my healing potions, I consider what I just saw. Was that a mere forest wolf, or was it a werewolf? Should I have run away or revealed myself as a supernatural being as well?

In the end, I decide I did the right thing by running away. My magic abilities aren’t that great, and I made the right decision by taking flight rather than fighting. I spend the rest of the day crafting potions in my cauldron. I only leave to bring a healing salve to my elderly next-door neighbor. I don’t mention my encounter with the wolf though, not wanting to make a fuss.

I fall asleep quickly again and dream about the yellow eyes I saw.

A crash from the kitchen wakes me up. I shoot straight up in bed. Did I lock the door before I went to bed? I hear a rustling in my sitting room. With my heart pounding, I make a decision to fight. That afternoon I ran away, but I will defend myself in my own home. I know a few defensive spells that should keep me safe.

With my shoulders back, I go into the other room to fight the beast. There is only room for one supernatural creature in this village, and I am not leaving. When I step into the room, I gasp.

Because a giant wolf didn’t break into my cottage, but a man did. I was standing across from a shifter.