Windy Weather And Witches

That morning was overcast and cool, whether I had always loved.

Quickly, I pulled on my skinning jeans, boots and a light grey jersey. Then I brushed my hair into a high pony and wrapped a scarf around my neck for good measure. Armed with a scribbled note, reading a vague excuse, I left the house, leaving the note on the dining room table for Meg to see.

The aim of today and the aim of many days to come was to avoid Ben. Hopefully, Meg's wedding plans would keep him occupied for most of the morning. That particular thought brought a sharp pain to my chest and my wolf howled mournfully. I shushed her and buried the feeling, increasing my pace as I walked along the pavement.

By seven I was swaying as the bus rumbled beneath me. Eventually, we screeched to a stop and I stepped out, breathing in the slightly salty air. A small wooden sign read, "Welcome to Rosaline."

I smiled, I had missed this place. I used to come here with my dad when I was small. Meg used to whine for hours because the clothing shops weren't big enough and there was no cinema, but I loved it. Rosaline was a tiny town, you could stare out a car window, blink, and miss it completely. The buildings were warm and beautifully faded. It looked as though it had once been a painting, giant hands had tipped over the canvas and shook until the paint dripped onto the world and built up a town in the middle of nowhere.

The morning melted away as I spent time wandering down cobblestone streets, looking into tiny galleries and stopping at the small warm café to order a crumbly fudge cake slice with a cup of coffee. The small stone beach on the edge of town was grey and drizzly, I watched it quietly from the cafe window until the coo-coo clock in the corner chimed 10 o clock and I could stall no longer.

I dropped a few notes on the table, finished my coffee and left. It was a short walk from the café to the pine woods that bordered the town. I made my way through the trees, the wet leaves squishing under my boots, the smell of rain, moss, and pine filling my senses.

Finally, I made it. There, in the middle of the woods sat an old gipsy caravan. It was wooden, faded red colour with swirling patterns in gold, blue, yellow and crimson. Cautiously I made my way up to the door and knocked three times. The door swung open immediately, no one stood in the doorway and I peered inside.

"Madam oak?" I called.

Suddenly, a woman, dressed in deep purple appeared directly in front of me. I stumbled back, lost my footing and fell on my butt on the muddy forest floor. The woman looked at me for a second then turned,

"Hurry wolf, you're late."

She disappeared into the caravan and I stood, dusting off my jeans and following in after her

. "Madam oak I, "

"Shut up the child." She snapped.

I shut up.

"Sit down, Keep quiet and show me the crest."

I made my way to a small purple couch and sat. Hoping desperately for answers.

**************

"Nothing?" I screeched, standing up and banging both my flat palms onto her round table. Almost an hour of her stuttering, muttering and examining my palm, my hopes heightening and crashing with her every facial expression, to no avail.

"There's really nothing you can do?"

Madam oak's eyes flashed, "it's not like your feelings for him  help the situation wolf." 

O glared at her, "excuse me?"

She raised an eyebrow, "Your feelings for him.  You want to be with him, you want to be in his pack, it makes the spell stronger."

I snarled loudly, and my fists balled at my sides.

"There are no feelings."

She smirked and I worked to suppress a growl.

"Do not snarl at me the wolf, I could kill you with a snap of my fingers."

My eyes widened and she grinned,

"And if you won't admit it I won't waste my time convincing you of the blatant facts."

Her gaze was steady and intense as she watched me, still sitting in the royal blue armchair opposite my seat.

"The crest is a powerful magic wolf, only the witch who did it can undo it, and even then you would need Gliddian blood to reverse the spell properly."

I met her eyes, "I'm stuck like this?" I asked sitting back down slowly.

Madam oak nodded, "for now wolf, yes." 

Ibreathed out, completely deflated.

We sat in silence, Madam oak searched my face, then got up, muttering under her breath, and bustling around with things in the back of the caravan. When she reappeared she held a thin gold chain with a ruby pendant in her chubby hands. She sat, then held it out to me and I took it from her wearily.

"This will help you on your mission." 

I narrowed my eyes and examined the necklace. My mission, only the thing I had been training for, for years. I hadn't thought about it in what felt like ages, Ben had consumed my mind for too long. I didn't ask how madam oak knew about my mission, oak witches read minds like books.

I ducked my head through the loop and the chain draped around my neck.

"Thank you."

She nodded then leaned forward slightly, "Let me say this wolf, you are not who you think you are.That necklace will protect you. It won't hide your identity."

I stared her, dumbfounded as she slumped back into her chair.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She didn't reply and I rolled my eyes. I don't think she could be anymore the cliché mysterious psychic witch if she tried.

"Thank you for your time madam oak, how much for the necklace?"

She shook her head, "Call it a gift, wolf."

I nodded and turned away,

"Call it my apology." She whispered.

I spun around, "What do you mean apology?"

But she had disappeared into thin air.