⛥ THE WITCH ⛥
Amelia's breath came fast and ragged. She'd been on the run for almost a whole week now in a desperate daily gamble to evade the inquisition's bloodhounds. Despite her body protesting from today's exhaustion, she pressed onwards, moving as swiftly and quietly through the night as she could. But no matter how far or fast she ran, it seemed she simply could never completely shake her pursuers.
Just yesterday she had escaped through nothing but sheer blind luck. She'd been delayed by only a short time, but when she finally arrived at the pier the sun was already setting, and the ferry was about to leave. It was the last trip across the Naruss river for the day since the currents and whirls were too difficult to navigate at night, and there was no other crossing for a dozen miles in either direction.
Amelia had called out to the ferryman as she hurried towards the pier, begging him to wait for her. She didn't really expect him to heed her plea, but she still had to try, hoping against all hope that she could move the stranger's heart. And moved it was. If it hadn't been for the kind old man waiting a handful of moments for her to make it, she would have been stuck on the pier when the inquisitors arrived only a few minutes later. And that would have been her end.
In every village she passed during her escape Amelia saw the divine decrees nailed to noticeboards and doors. Sometimes she saw the remnants of pyres, a grim reminder of what cruel fate was waiting for her if she was ever caught. When she was caught. For a moment tears threatened to well up in her eyes and cloud her vision, but she forced them down again. She didn't know how much longer she could run. She was so tired, so exhausted, but she couldn't give up if she wanted to live.
Since the coup a moon ago the church had ruthlessly grabbed every bit of power it could get its hands on. Warlocks and witches were the first, but not the only ones, to be declared profane and heretical, enemies of the new theocratic state the church was carving out of a once peaceful Mirindal. They twisted and corrupted the faith from something that helped and guided the common folk into something that spread fear and oppression, and the biggest threat to their rule was unsanctioned magic they couldn't control.
Every few steps Amelia looked back, half expecting an inquisitor's hand reaching out for her from the darkness and grabbing her by her neck, but luckily no one was ever there. She quickly shook her head, desperately trying to stay focused. She couldn't afford to fall, because if she twisted her ankle, or worse, she was as good as dead. Her legs hurt as she stumbled through the dense undergrowth, twigs and branches scratching her skin and catching what was left of her clothes.
The young witch looked truly miserable. Her face and arms were all scratched up by branches and thorns of varying size and origin, the dried blood leaving dark marks on her pale skin. Her once bright red fiery hair was dirty and matted, with splotches of mud and some leaves caked into her curls. Her escape has left deep marks and scars on the woman, bodily and mentally.
She'd lost her mantle an hour ago to a hawthorn hedge, the plant's thorns mercilessly digging so deep into the fabric she had to abandon the piece since she simply couldn't afford the time to recover it. The rest of her attire had fared only a little better, with not a single item remaining fully whole, or clean for that matter.
The pale moonlight illuminated the area ahead of Amelia, and what she saw didn't exactly inspire confidence in her. Avoiding the roads and paths to not run headfirst into mounted church patrols, it had taken her the better part of a day and way past sunset to cross the Keldan woods, an untamed and thickly grown forest separating the region around the Naruss and the borderlands. Now she stood on the other side, and before her were the dimly lit open rolling hills of the borderlands with few places to hide.
Amelia took a deep breath to calm her nerves and examined her options. Returning into the Keldan Woods and hiding there was not literally impossible but a bad idea. She had neither the footwear nor clothing for such an endeavor as she had learned just today, and it would only end with her getting slowed and scratched up even further. Eventually she'd catch a disease she couldn't treat, followed a miserable death in the wilderness.
Still better than burning alive!
She thought bitterly.
As she looked around, she noticed a few stacks of smoke gently rising into the night sky. Following them back towards the ground she saw what looked like a small hamlet, two dozen houses at best, sitting behind a simple palisade that was more protection against animals than an actual defense against a human aggressor.
The witch knew that she only needed to keep going for a little longer. Once she was past the borderlands she could cross into elven or dwarven territory. While neither of those two kingdoms was on particularly good terms with Mirindal since the burning of Hirranom Forest a few decades ago, they accepted humans in their lands if they provided honest work and didn't cause problems. And both welcomed magic users, if they swore service to their crowns.
Forcing herself onwards, Amelia started walking towards the hamlet. Without any real cover in these open hills, she decided to walk on the road. It wouldn't make much if any difference since she'd be spotted just as easily if she trekked across the fields, but she'd move much faster and with much less risk of stumbling or falling.
Or at least what counted as fast in her current state. Amelia's steps became slower and more lumbering with each passing minute, and she realized with trepidation that she was reaching the limits of her endurance. She was no longer convinced she could make it to the village without outright collapsing on the road, and even if she did there was still the question of whether the villagers would let her in. Most rural folks weren't too keen on letting strangers into their homes in the middle of the night.
Pausing at the crest of the next hill she looked around, searching for anything that could provide her with some shelter for the night without immediately screaming hideout to the bloodhounds. The moon was just clearing the apex of its nightly path, not only indicating that midnight has come and gone, but also shining at its brightest and casting the borderlands into a shimmering pale blueish gray.
Amelia struggled to keep panic from gripping her heart. She turned around again and again, repeatedly drawing her gaze across the dimly light landscape around her. A shiver ran down her spine, not from the cool night breeze but from fear. She couldn't accept that she had come so far, only to falter now literal hours away from safety. There had to be something, anything for her to-
The witch breathed a sigh of relieve when she saw the roof of what would turn out to be a standalone shed on the other side of a nearby hill. She struggled across the fields and a low stone wall separating some farmers' lands from each other, before she finally stumbled through the wide double doors into the simple wooden building.
The inside of the tool shed was dark, only thin rays of moonlight filtered through the uneven planks making up the walls and roof, and it took several minutes for Amelia's eyes to adjust to the darkness. She found herself amidst various farming and working implements, from scythes and pitchforks arrayed at the left and right walls, to shovels and hammers and nails sorted into various barrels and simple chests at the back wall.
A simple hand-pulled cart claimed most of the shed's center for itself and gave her a modicum of cover, and a sensation of relative and temporary safety, once she was done squeezing herself in between the barrels and chests at the far end of the building. She wasn't comfortable. She wasn't actually safe. She was exhausted and starving and terrified beyond imagination. But this place was the best she could hope for right now.
It only took mere moments for Amelia to fall asleep, her body having reached the end of its reserves.
~⛥~
The witch startled awake, phantoms of her nightmare still clinging to her mind. Amelia trashed and shook and struggled, all seeming so real in her dream. The blinding light shining into her eyes, not knowing it was from a beam of sunlight falling through a crack in the roof. The pain in her back, caused by the cramped position of her sleep. It took a few moments for her to realize that she wasn't chained and tortured in a dungeon but hidden behind barrels and chests in a farmer's tool shed.
Slowly she calmed down, forcing deep breaths to slow her racing heart. Her muscles protested as she pulled herself to her feet, her aching back drawing a pained gasp from her lips, but she couldn't delay any further. She looked around the shed and it seemed undisturbed. Apparently, she'd been lucky, and nobody had found their way here yet. But there was something wrong, something that deeply disturbed her, but she couldn't put into words what it was.
But a few moments later, when Amelia was almost by the door, it struck her like lightning. The light! The beams of light falling through the cracks and gaps in the ceiling came down from almost directly above! She reached for one of the doors with trembling hands and slowly pulled it open.
As the sunlight fell onto her bloodied and dirty face, Amelia wanted to cry as she realized what had happened. It was well past noon, and she had slept away half a day! The exhaustion of the last few days had finally caught up with her and likely sealed her fate. All the time she'd made good at the Naruss ferry was gone, and with the entire borderlands offering little cover for her movement it was likely only a question of time now before she was caught.
Caught, raped, and burned alive.
The thought almost made her vomit, and she bit her lip in a struggle to fight back against the growing panic.
Think, Amelia, think! You're so close to the border, there has to be someth-
