1

The breeze lifted the layers of my lightweight tunic dress up in a swirling motion from my legging-clad thighs, twisting them in an uncomfortable way which irritated me. Always one to dress the part of ancient witch, with layers and jewellery surrounding my naturally slender frame and yet it can be inconvenient when travelling to different climates. I push them down in annoyed flicks, with my eyes closed and facing the sun, trying to remain focused. Listening intently to the sounds of my companion ravens in the nearby trees. The feathery friends are always a constant in my travels, my protection, my companions, but yet today something is notably different among their crony calls. Pulling me towards them with intrigue. A new voice among them stands out like a sore thumb to my trained and observant ear. A shrill, high-pitched chatter among the ramblings and insults of my birds.

Jangling the bangles on my right arm I send out a gentle vibration across the ground and towards them, my eyes remaining tight shut as I visualise among them the single bird which dares to encroach upon my brood without invitation. Cutting through black feathers, raven claws, leaves, and beaks, my mind's eye comes to rest on a surprising sight. A white as snow raven with blood red eyes and a beak the colour of ivory, standing proud in the centre of my flying hierarchy; the little bold ingrate.

“So, our new addition is somewhat of a sign, maybe a warning?” I mumble under my breath, somewhat amused by this invasion.

Now it has my attention fully I beckon him to come to me, smirking that someone would dare attempt this kind of infiltration. Opening my eyes and twisting my fingers in midair I cast a magical net and pull him close with ease. The bird has no resistance to my power of persuasion and flies to my hand immediately. A good sign that he is not enchanted and has free will that can be tugged by gentle spells like mine. His eyes narrow upon my face and the deep darkness of my eyes, with the look of an intelligent animal. Appraising me as I do so him.

'What do we have here?' I smile with sweetness and turn my hand to admire the pure angelic colour of this new animal before my eyes. Finding beauty in nature and it’s flawless design.

'Do you have a secret, little bird?' Smoothing down the birds silky plumage with my free hand I focus on the memories it holds and its purpose for its arrival. I probe with some light insight and find nothing but shadow within its mind. As though it’s thoughtless, but I know that is never true in any living creature.

'Someone is protecting you from me, aren't they?' I smirk. Not at all phased by the realisation that this little animal is a spy and meagre attempts have been made to stop magical interventions. 'At least they didn't try to hide you.... I wonder what they imagine I'm doing that is worth spying on?' I laugh to myself out loud, plucking a feather from his breast with my fingertips in a quick jerk motion, sending the bird on its way with the jolt. A simple downy feather left behind that’s as soft as clouds.

I watch him for a second, sensing no danger or foreboding even if he was laced in witchcraft but there’s no aura or residue that sets off my natural alarm bells. A white witch sent him, no doubt, and the irony of his colouring is not lost on me. Symbolic of a peace flag.

'So friend or foe, you have a sense of humour!' I chuckle aloud, knowing now that ears are most definitely listening as my new white friend has nestled back among my brood. They are protesting of course but on their best behaviour while I am around.

'There is one thing you should know about me... I'm not someone you should get on the wrong side of, there are no protection spells or rituals on the face of this earth which would save you from me.' With a smile and turning full circle of the wooded area around me, in the small forest, I again close my eyes holding the feather between my fingers to channel its source. My other hand finding the tiny glass urn around my neck among my layers of necklaces to draw power from it. It contains a potion I myself concocted for this kind of insight and I feel it warm up with my magical touch.

My thoughts race across the grass strewn forest floor to the south, my mind like a running animal tripping over fallen logs and snapping twigs in its haste to get to its destination now that it’s on a roll. Heart pounding in my ears as I gain speed and vision flies, throwing me on a rollercoaster journey to this raven’s source. I cross roads, rivers, land, and highways, at a rate of light before my mind halts abruptly on a cottage hidden in the depth of the darkest part of a forest and meet the face of a long ago seen friend. As though my movie mind on fast forward is suddenly stilled to pause.

'Cora?' I utter aloud, thus breaking the enchantment immediately, snapping the bond and I’m once again standing alone in the secluded wood where I already dwelled. I recognised the other woman instantly, yet it made no sense that she would be spying on me.

How far had my mind run? Maybe fifty miles or so? Cora was a fool to think I did not have that kind of reach, she should know better, but when did she come and settle in these parts? Her presence here made no sense at all. Cora is a Norse witch, a Volva, and she doesn't belong on these shores.

Irritated by this new turn of events my inner trepidation arises in ways it has not done for centuries. Not since the witch clearing back home in the 1500's. A black time in my past when my entire coven that I spent years amassing was wiped out by those religious zealots and their fear of mine.

What had they called me? Nicneven, Queen of Emphale. Oh those stupid mortals with their stupid stories. A legend of a Scottish witch that still can be found in the folklores and history books, if somewhat embellished.

I lost a stronghold of a hundred witches across the island in the months that followed. Heard every scream as they were tortured and burned. The one and only time in my life I felt any real depth of emotion for the loss of life and it fuelled a rage which burned in me for five hundred years. A hatred I never knew I could possess that took my senses for a time.

Plagues, curses, and wars, as I sent human kinsmen into death as payback for what they had done to my followers and sisters. I was distracted on my own path and had not been able to protect them when it mattered and that guilt was a heavy price. Sending me on a true path of darkness that had almost claimed me to the dark warlock side before Rinny drew me back from the shadows and set me back upon my neutral path. She saved my soul from the underworld should it ever leave this body.

Turning over Cora's face in my mind I know she couldn’t make any real contact at this distance with her abilities, or lack of. A haunting from afar could only give me a visual to whom had sent the raven and I know if Cora wanted to talk she would never have sent the bird at all. Someone else had to be behind this conjuring for it to reach a fifty mile journey and still work.

Cora is a witch with limited skills, much like the rest of the weak among the mortals, it makes no sense that she would be spying on my movements this way. Cora is considered a safe haven for witches across my lands, she never gets involved in the politics between immortals and she most definitely never strays into my business.

That gut feeling I have, always lingering with me, coming here, is only proving to be right. Something is askew in the atmosphere and good boring witches like Cora are picking up on it too. All flocking to this quaint little Ohio location. She obviously doesn’t know what’s going on, hence her need to have me followed but the fact a lowly wand wielder could sense it from across the waters speaks volumes about the powerful disruption centred here.

Pulling my phone from my pocket I bring up the name Rinny on my contacts and press call. It’s answered almost immediately.

'Leyanne? I presume you want something?' Rinny's sweet voice drips with sarcasm on the other end so many miles away. She would be classed as my closest friend in reality, if I allowed myself such things and emotions. She has loyalty anyway and has stuck with me for the longest time among all of my acquaintances.

'Are you implying that is the only time I call?' I smile, absent-mindedly twisting my hair, oblivious to the scattering of mini flowers beneath my feet escalating into full bloom around me until one catches my eye. Nature always thrives at speed when I am not focused. It’s mildly annoying to always bloom a garden at my feet when my mind is elsewhere.

'Yes.... Now, what is it? I'm rather busy.' Rinny sounded bored already, she has known me for too many decades in this friendship of sorts with trust built on years of codependency when it comes to favours. We both have an impatient and non-affectionate way about us and never try to impress the other before asking for one.

'I have stumbled upon something that interests me, I would really appreciate you sending me some personal items and such to make my stay a little more homely.' I admire my nails, looking for ragged edges and finding none before kicking away the long stems that are trying to twist around my shoes merrily. Sounding indifferent as is my normal mode of communication.

'You mean send my minions to pack up your apothecary room and ship them to the sweet U.S of A? Really? What could possibly be so intriguing over there this time?' Rinny sighed down the phone, shifting around and making noise, indicating she is at her desk. Rinny likes to moonlight as a writer of fantasy fiction in the human world, hilarious to me considering her life is in reality everything she puts in her books.

'I love your quaint little title for my necessities, Rin! We all can't be good little shape shifters with no interest in brews and potions can we?' I sighed at her, not in the mood for bickering today. 'Okay yes, I want my things, my grimoire's and maybe some of my clothes. If I have to stay in this god forsaken hell hole then I can at least make it comfy.' Noticing the flowers beneath my feet are growing bigger, I roll my eyes and stamp them out, crushing them back into the grass from which they are sprouting. Letting go of my hair and instead hold out my hand to admire the large stone ring on my finger which catches the sunlight perfectly. It’s blue crackled depths of glass, such a pretty trinket made even more so by linking it to the soul of a lost friend at the request of my shape shifting helper.