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The Butcher family farmhouse went silent just after the Witch of the Woods emerged from Arthur’s shadow, her slender, statuesque form towering over them all and her long onyx hair fanning out behind her like a cape in the wind, seemingly under its own power. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the Witch, faces white with shock.

“Now that your question has been answered,” the Witch asked Summer Butcher with hooded eyes closed and a gentle smile on her lips, “may you be so kind as to show me to the patient?”

Pulling in her son into her embrace even more tightly, Summer snarled at the Witch, “Don’t come any closer,” shuddering in fear even as she bared her teeth, her worn, tear-stained face contorted into a scowl of rage. “Leave this house now.”

The Witch cocked her head to the side, seemingly perplexed by the demand, before saying, “Well, I can hardly heal what ails your daughter if I’m not here, can I?”

“And we’re supposed to believe you’ll just help us without a price?” Harold snapped back, the burly, spectacled patriarch of the family still keeping his distance from this uninvited guest.

“Of course you shouldn’t. Luckily for you and your daughter, your son has been so kind as to provide sufficient payment.”

Harold turned to his son, still held tight in Summer’s embrace, and asked, “And what payment would that be?”

With a teary-eyed sigh, Arthur softly said, “Nothing we can’t afford to lose.”

“What do you mean, Arthur?” Harold inquired further, only to feel Melion’s meaty hand on his shoulder.

“S’ a bit late to grill th’ lad ‘bout it now,” the scarred, bearded warrior said solemnly. “Arty told me ev’rythin’. An’ trust me when ah tell ye he couldn’ renege on this deal if he wanted tae. An’ ah’d know.”

“You’d know? You mean this is the same witch that you-“

“Aye. Ah didn’ want tae let Arty know ‘bout me history wit’ her, so I thought ah could talk ‘im outta it wit’out bringin’ it up, but… wot’s done is done.”

“Melion,” the Witch interrupted, “is it not impolite to speak of present company as if they were not here?”

“Yeah, well ah’ve never bin one fer courtesy,” Melion spat, his black, mane-like beard bristling with contempt. “’Sides, ye wanna talk ‘bout impolite? Try hidin’ in summun’s shadow to git in their house uninvited.”

“At least when I enter a place uninvited, I don’t break down any doors. Besides, I needed to know where Arthur’s house was so I could administer treatment, and you two left in such a hurry I could not ask, so I unfortunately had to tag along discreetly.”

“Sure, an’ ah I suppose th’ prospect of seein’ th’ looks on ev’ryone’s faces had nuttin’ tae do wit’ it.”

The Witch momentarily paused just as she seemed about to make a retort, only to say, “I shall neither confirm nor deny that.”

Turning back towards Summer, the Witch asked her, “So, will you allow me to see to your daughter? I’m afraid your son and I have a contract, so I cannot back out of my end of the deal any more than he can his.”

Breaking her embrace with her son, Summer grilled the Witch further, “You swear to us you will do no harm to anyone in this house?”

“Of course I do. What reason would I have to inflict harm on any one of you? But if it puts you at ease for me to say it, then you have my word that once I have left, you and your entire family shall remain healthy and unharmed.”

Running her fingers through her fading blonde hair, Summer turned to Melion and asked the old huntsman, “Can she be trusted?”

“I wouldn’ go that far,” Melion sighed, “but ah I can tell ye that when she gives her word, she means it.”

Even as Melion vouched for the Witch, Summer stepped out of her way only begrudgingly, and sighed, “It’s right this way,” before walking towards the hallway with the Witch, and soon after, the rest of Arthur’s family, closely following behind.

When they reached the door to Morgan’s room, Summer opened the door and cautiously stepped aside. The Witch approached the open door, but before the walked in, stopped to assure Arthur’s parents with a smile, “Worry not. When I next exit this room, your daughter will be following me, as healthy as she was before the White Plague came to her.”

As Arthur and the rest of the family listened from outside the open door, the Witch of the Woods stepped inside Morgan’s room, slowly approaching the bed under a shuttered window at the far end of the room where her patient was sleeping. Still bundled under layers of extra blankets and her head resting on a pile of spare pillows, Morgan Butcher lay in bed fast asleep, her skin as sickly pale as it had been when Arthur left and her dishevelled brown locks splayed all over the top pillow she rested on. The moment the Witch stood above her patient, she stopped and spoke, “Hello, Morgan Butcher.”

Morgan opened her sky blue eyes, still bordered with dark circles, and the first thing she saw was the Witch of the Woods looming over her. Without so much as a hint of surprise, she sighed and asked, “Are you Death?”

“Sometimes I am,” the Witch replied as she looked her patient up and down. “But today, my child, I am the opposite.”

Morgan nodded in understanding. “So you’re that Witch Arthur ran off to find, then? You’re easier on the eyes than I would of thought.”

“Oh?” the Witch asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. “You knew, then?”

“Of course I knew. I might pass out a lot these days, but I still have ears, you know. And my family hasn’t exactly been keeping their voices down when talking about it.”

Stepping out from behind the doorframe and into Morgan’s view, Arthur sighed guiltily, “How long have you known?”

“I guessed something was up when you guys’ arguing woke me yesterday and you pretended everything was fine. Since then, I’ve been keeping quiet every time you guys woke me up. Especially during the freak out that happened once Ma and Pa noticed you were missing. Were you even going to tell me you were thinking of bringing a witch here to help me?”

“Well,” Arthur began defensively, “I kind of did tell you…”

Flashing Arthur a rather unimpressed glare, Morgan asked, “You said it while I was still sleeping, didn’t you?”

Even the Witch paused from examining Morgan to look back at Arthur disapprovingly as the young man looked down guiltily, making not even a token attempt to justify himself.

“Far from the commendable way to go about such a thing,” she said coolly.

“That’s… true,” Arthur sighed.

“You’re a coward,” Morgan continued.

“Running into a forest crawling with monsters is cowardly?” Arthur said defensively.

“There are many forms of both courage and cowardice, Arthur,” the Witch sternly told him as she went back to examining Morgan. “And not all of them are mutually exclusive between the two categories.”

Arthur was about to raise a finger in protest, only to lower it and sigh, “Yeah, I guess.”

“But commenting on your how your brother’s actions reflect on him is not why I am here,” the Witch continued. “Curing what ails you, however, is. Would you like me to proceed, Morgan Butcher?”

“Well, it’s got to be better than lying here sick all day,” Morgan replied between coughs. “But before you do it, I have one more question.”

“Ask, my child, and I will answer.”

“What will this cost us?”

The Witch simply looked down at Morgan and smiled reassuringly as she said, “The cost has already been paid.”

Morgan simply struck an apprehensive glare back in Arthur’s direction and asked, “Why am I not surprised?”

“There will be plenty of time for explanations when we are done here,” the Witch reassured Morgan.

“There’d better be,” Morgan coughed, clearly directing her comment more at Arthur then the Witch herself. “Please get this other with.”

“If that is what you wish, my child.”

Upon saying such, the Witch raised one hand over Morgan and began to chant under her breath. Arthur was too far away to make out much of what she was saying, only catching a few sentences that sounded like ‘spirits of the air’ and ‘water of this child’s breath.’ But what then happened before his eyes was clear as day.

At first all Arthur could see were several undefined shapes shimmering in the air. But just as he was about to squint to try and make out what exactly they were, he began to see them clearly. They were not shapes in the air as Arthur had thought at first; it was more like the air itself was taking shape in those areas, forming into tiny human-like figures dancing high and low about the room, not dissimilar in appearance to storybook pictures of sprites and pixies.

From the doorway where Arthur was still standing and the rest of his family were peering in from the corner, he wondered aloud, “What are those things?”

“What things?” Harold asked curiously. “Isn’t she just waving her hand around and chanting?”

It was then that Arthur recalled how the Witch had been surprised that he could see the green flames that accompanied the sealing of their pact. Between that and these air spirits’ apparent invisibility to his father’s eyes, did that mean most people could not see the Witch’s magic other than its most obvious effects? Arthur pondered exactly how to explain this to his father, only for Melion to place his massive hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and when Arthur looked up, his Uncle was giving him an understanding smile.

“It’s nuttin’ too important,” Melion said, turning back to Harold. “Ah’ll be sure tae explain after all this is over.”

With his father seemingly satisfied for now by what his uncle had said, Arthur turned his attention back to Morgan’s room. As the Witch continued to chant, these strange spirits of air began to form a circle above Morgan’s head, the flow of their dancing seeming to be directed upwards towards the ceiling. The purpose behind this soon become clear, as the normally imperceptible droplets expelled by each of Morgan’s coughs began to join together at the centre of the circle of dancers and condense into a single globule of moisture.

As Morgan continued to cough out more droplets that joined this single mass, her sickly pallid skin slowly but surely return to the rosy complexion Arthur remembered, and the space between each cough began to lengthen. Eventually, even the circles under Morgan’s eyes began to disappear, as she coughed one final time, and the last droplets of sickness merged with the single glob floating above her face, now the size of an orange. It was then that the Witch ceased her chanting, and dismissed the dancing air spirits with a wave of her hand.

“How do you now feel, Morgan Butcher?” the Witch asked her patient as she swirled her hand around, drawing in the diseased globe of liquid to float above the palm of her hand.

Morgan opened her eyes and said in surprise, “I feel… well,” her voice clear and uninterrupted for the first time in weeks. It was then that she noticed the orb of slimy liquid floating above the Witch’s hand and began to ask, “Is that-“

“…the remnants of the plague that ailed you? Why yes, it is. Or rather…” the Witch paused as she pressed her thumb and index finger together, and the globule shrunk down into nothing, “it was.”

Morgan took a deep breath without so much as the slightest cough and sighed, “It’s over, then.”

“Indeed it is, my child. Do you have the strength to stand up?”

Morgan shot the Witch a slight smirk and said, “Time to find out.”

Without the slightest hesitation, Morgan threw off the sheets covering her, and swung her legs around to the side of her bed, lowered her feet to the floor, pushed herself up, before carefully taking her first step forward in weeks.

Not displaying so much as a weakness in the legs, Morgan walked over the Witch herself, and looked up at her to simply say, “Thank you, Miss.”

“It was my pleasure, Morgan Butcher,” the Witch said with a smile, before looking to Arthur and saying, “but I am not the one you should thank for me coming here.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Morgan said sternly as she turned towards her brother in the doorway, “I haven’t forgotten about brother dearest one bit.”

Arthur tensed up as he saw his fully recovered sister run right towards him, but rather than the deck to the face he was expecting, he received instead a tighter bear hug than even he would normally receive from Melion.

“Thanks, Arthur,” Morgan said to her brother sincerely. “Don’t know how much longer I’d be here if you didn’t do what you did. Just don’t go behind my back next time, yeah?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Arthur said softly as he returned his sister’s embrace just as strongly, only to sigh, “And I don’t think I’ll have many more opportunities to do so anyway.”

Morgan then backed out of the hug and gave her brother a concerned look as she began to ask, “What do you mean by-,“ only to be blindsided by her mother with another hug.

“Oh, Morgan!” Summer sobbed in relief, “I’m so glad you’re all better!”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Harold tearfully said as he joined in the embrace, even he failing to hold back the tears any further.

“And don’ forget ‘bout me!” Melion roared as he joined in as well, his massive frame nearly blocking the hallway for the rest of the family.

Arthur joined back in on the family group hug as well, and Morgan seemed to have forgotten the worrying thing that Arthur had said to her, or at least at put the thought on hold, until they were interrupted by the Witch clearing her throat from back in Morgan’s room.

“I am sorry to interrupt this moment for you,” she said sincerely, “but I believe that it is pertinent that we discuss the terms of Arthur and I’s agreement sooner than later.”

“I suppose we should,” Summer said distrustfully as the family broke their embrace with Morgan.

Arthur took a deep breath as everyone walked to the house’s hearth to take a seat at the family’s round dinner table. He was certainly not looking forward to the coming discussion.

Arthur’s unease was not helped when Morgan gave him a nudge in the ribs as he was sitting down in front of the fireplace and asked, “Wait, the terms of what agreement, exactly?”

“You’ll learn that soon enough,” Arthur sighed. “But long story short, it turns out this woman doesn’t work for free…”

“Ye can say that again,” Melion growled.

Looking up at her uncle just as she had found herself a seat next to Arthur, Morgan asked, “Wait, you know this witch too, Uncle? How?”

Seemingly just realising that his niece was not yet in the know, Melion gave Morgan an uneasy smile and began to stammer, “W-well, it’s nuttin’ all that int’resting, Morgan…”

Throwing caution into the wind, Arthur simply said, “She turned him into a werewolf a long time ago.”

Melion and Arthur’s parents gave their two children a panicked look as Morgan asked, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Also, Ma and Pa have known the whole time and never told us.”

“Seriously?” Morgan asked incredulously as she shot an astonished glance towards the three.

Melion’s jaw dropped open as Harold asked, “Damn it boy, why would you tell her that now of all times?!”

“Because I’ve already been yelled at by this family for doing something stupid behind everyone’s backs and will probably be yelled at more once this conversation gets going, so it’s only fair I not be the only one who has to come clean today.”

“My, your family seems to have quite a bit of difficulty staying on the same page,” the Witch mused as she took a seat next to Arthur.

“Oh come off it, it’s technically yer fault!” Melion snapped back.

“Perhaps it is. But it was still your decision to leave these children in the dark, wasn’t it?”

Before either Melion or Arthur’s parents could open their mouths in protest, Morgan took a seat herself and said, “Sooooo… about this werewolf thing…”

“Technically, the proper term is ‘skinchanger,’” the Witch interjected, “but I suppose if you insist on differentiating such beings by their specific animal forms, ‘werewolf’ is as apt a description as any.”

“Do ye really think this is th’ right time tae talk about this?” Melion groaned as he slumped down in his seat across from Arthur.

“Well, I’m not going to stop thinking about it now that you’ve brought it up! Like what, is she also the werewolf that bit you, or something?”

“That is mere superstition, child. A bite from a skinchanger is no different from any beast of their size. Such beings are either born with their dual forms, or they gain such abilities from a magical boon or curse.”

“That’s enough about that for now,” he Harold said sternly, he and Summer now seated between Morgan and Melion. “That can wait for another time. We have more pressing matters at hand, don’t we, Miss?”

“Indeed,” the Witch replied. “But since all of you will no doubt be unhappy with what I have to say, perhaps I can provide refreshments while we talk. It is the least I can do, given the circumstances.”

Before anyone could ponder exactly what the Witch meant by that, cups of hot tea suddenly appeared on the table.

Arthur’s family uneasily looked down at the teacups that the Witch had just conjured. The Witch herself seemed to notice this, and reassured them, “Don’t worry, as I told Arthur earlier, it won’t turn you into frogs.”

Morgan had just begun to cautiously lift up her cup when she stopped to ask, “Why would that even need clarification?”

“I would hope it wouldn’t, but Arthur needed it clarified earlier anyway, so I thought maybe it was a common concern around here.”

“Well, it isn’t.”

“Well, then. And here I thought your brother’s earlier concerns would make greater sense when I met his family.”

“Well in my defense,” Arthur began sheepishly, “I didn’t know that much about witches other than from a lot of unflattering stories, and it was just shortly after I saw her casually disintegrating a giant monster.”

Summer turned towards Arthur, looking very concerned and asked, “I’m sorry, but what giant monster?”

“The one that had just swallowed him,” the Witch casually replied.

Burying her head in her hands, Summer deeply sighed, “See Arthur, this is why we didn’t want you going into that forest.”

“But nevertheless,” the Witch continued, “I can assure you that my tea is completely safe to drink, as I am sure both Arthur and Melion can attest.”

“Actually, ah’d attest tae th’ opposite,” Melion muttered.

“Oh come now Melion, my tea brewing may have involved a bit of trial and error, but my first brews weren’t that bad!”

“Tell that tae me poor stomach right after we met.”

Arthur turned to his uncle and let him know, “Don’t worry Uncle, I had her tea earlier, and it is actually quite good.”

“Well, ah guess if Arty vouches fer it, ah’ll be th’ canary in th’ coal mine fer th’ rest of ye,” Melion sighed as he cautiously took a sip, visibly preparing for the worst, only to look pleasantly surprised as he swallowed.

“Well ah’ll be damned, ye old hag. It only took ye over twenty years tae do it, but ye finally managed to brew sumthin’ edible.”

“Well, I suppose that’s the closest thing to a compliment I shall expect to hear from you,” the Witch said with a slight chuckle.

“Damn straight it is,” Melion said before continuing to drink his tea.

Slowly but surely, the rest of Arthur’s family cautiously tasted the Witch’s tea, and all seemed to enjoy it to varying extents.

“Well,” the Witch began, tenting her fingers and assuming a very businesslike posture, “now that we have finished this strangely long tangent regarding my tea’s lack of transformative properties, I believe we should get down to business. As you all have no doubt gathered by now, I did not heal your daughter out of pity. I require payment for my services, but luckily for all of you, your son has graciously agreed to pay my price on your behalf.”

“And exactly what kind of ‘payment’ did Arthur promise you, then?” Summer worriedly inquired. “Will you take his soul?”

“Of course not!” the Witch scoffed as she shot Summer a look of absolute bewilderment. “What use would I have for such a thing? I have yet to even work out what my own soul is for, much less what I’d do with anyone else’s.”

“Well… there are a lot of tales about devils taking the souls of those mortals they forge pacts with.”

“Then I am certainly glad to not be a devil.”

Sighing heavily, Arthur spoke up.

“I have to be her servant.”

The whole room went silent. Arthur’s parents and sister stared at him in shock. Melion grimly sighed as he shook his head. The Witch, however, maintained a neutral expression as she patiently waited for them to inquire on the matter further.

“She told me the only payment she would accept to save a life was another life in return,” Arthur explained further, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. “So to get her to heal Morgan, I had to promise to work for her forever.”

Summer buried her face in her hands as she shed more tears. Harold looked away to hide his expression as he cursed under his breath. It was Morgan that moved the discussion forward.

“So he’ll be your slave?” she asked the Witch in an accusatory tone, cutting her a sideways glance.

“Not one to mince words, are you?” the Witch asked before continuing, “If we are to consider technical definitions of such terminology, that isn’t quite the case without any formal documentation of ownership from this kingdom’s government. However, I will admit it is functionally similar.”

“Is that supposed to make us feel any better?” scoffed, clearly unimpressed.

“Feel about it as you will. I was simply stating a fact.”

“All in th’ name of ‘equal trade,’” Melion scoffed. “Ye always did have a strange idea of what makes a fair trade.”

“I don’t see what’s so strange about it. Your nephew asked me to save a life, so I asked for him to give his life in return. How is that an unfair exchange? Perhaps you are still unhappy with the terms of your own bargain with me?” The Witch briefly paused to survey everyone present before continuing, “Although it would seem that you did get exactly what you asked for, so why complain?”

“Don’ push yer luck,” Melion growled.

“So is this the same trade you made with that beggar?” Harold inquired bluntly.

“I beg your pardon?” the Witch asked back.

“The doctor who told us about you said that, ten years ago, you healed a penniless leper outside the town walls of Greenwood. He also said that soon afterward he saw that same vagrant heading towards your forest, never to return. I take he became a servant of yours, as well?”

This caught Arthur’s attention. It was the first time he’d heard of the Witch’s power, but he had not thought to ask about the specifics himself when he was making his own bargain in the Witch’s cottage.

Placing a finger on her chin, the Witch recalled out loud, “Ten years ago… healing leprosy… oh, you must mean Lawrence! Why yes, he did agree to become my servant as payment for my services. He said that he had no family of his own, so he was less conflicted about my terms, but tragically, as an older gentleman, my end of the bargain could only prolong his life by only half a decade before old age claimed him.”

“Oh,” Harold said. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It is quite alright. Having lived longer than most mortals can count, I’ve since accepted that those I encounter will die, no matter how fond I grow of them. It is a fact of nature that not even I can change.”

There was a brief silence after that, but it was only a matter of time before it was broken by Harold.

“Sorry to hear that Miss, but we should get back to the subject at hand. Namely, what will Arthur’s service to you entail, exactly? Anything we should be worried about?”

“Ah, but of course!” the Witch said, perking back up. “As I told your son earlier, I shouldn’t need him to do any tasks all that different from what he is familiar with. Most of what I will need his assistance for will be things such as helping with cooking, gardening, cleaning and tending to the animals in the stables.”

“Will he have to do anything directly related to your… um, line of work?” Summer asked uncomfortably.

“Not quite as often as you would fear,” the Witch reassured her. “Of course, I will need him to go out do errands for me when I am otherwise occupied, as well as accompany me to provide an extra pair of hands when my business brings me out of the forest. Occasionally I may call on his assistance to help me brew potions for clients, but nothing that should endanger him any more than the farm work that he is familiar with.”

“Well… that’s a relief, I suppose,” Summer said cautiously.

It was Morgan who asked the most pressing question of the meeting.

“Will we ever see my brother again?”

Arthur’s parents tensed up and began to take deep breaths. Clearly they were not looking forward to having to hear the answer to this particular question.

The Witch smiled warmly at Morgan and told her, “My child, of course you will. I am not averse to giving your brother a day off on occasion, and even if we pass through this area as part of my business I am not so cruel that I would deny him the opportunity to drop by this farm for a visit. But before you get your hopes up, I should fully disclose that such occasions will not come very often.”

“Oh, I see,” Morgan sighed, seemingly both relieved and disappointed in equal measure. “Then, could we at least write to him once in a while, to check that he’s okay?”

“Hmm,” the Witch pondered, placing a finger on her chin in contemplation. “I’m afraid that I don’t know of any mail service that would deliver to my house that you would have access to, but I’m sure I can arrange a way for you all to keep in touch with Arthur, if you would like.”

“Thanks, Miss. That means a lot to me.”

“And besides, there should have plenty of time to work out such an arrangement, since I won’t need Arthur’s assistance until the coming winter.”

Arthur’s family perked up in relief upon hearing that news.

“Arthur, is that true?” Morgan asked her brother, visibly eager to have her hopes confirmed.

Arthur nodded. “That’s what she told me before we made the deal.”

“Were you really under the impression that I would just give these explanations and then immediately take you brother away without ample time to say his goodbyes?” the Witch asked curiously. “Perish the thought! I will admit to being harsh, but I do make an attempt to not be unnecessarily cruel.”

“Wit’ varyin’ degrees of success,” Melion muttered as he finished his tea.

“That’s enough, Mel,” Harold sternly told his brother.

“No need to tell him off now,” the Witch said with a smile. “That should be the end of all I need to tell you about the terms of Arthur and I’s agreement, so I will soon be on my way if there are no further questions.”

As the Witch said that, Summer stood up and asked her, “Before you leave, Miss, perhaps we could share a word in private?”

The whole family stared at Summer in surprise. Throughout this whole affair Summer had been the most adamant about the family having nothing to do with witches, and here she was requesting a word alone with one. The Witch herself, for her part, appeared intrigued by the request.

“If you insist,” the Witch said as she rose from her seat and followed Summer into Morgan’s now vacant bedroom. Summer stepped aside to allow the Witch to enter first, before closing the door behind her.

O – O – O

“All right, Mrs. Butcher,” the Witch began, “What is it you wished to discuss that you would rather your family not be privy to?”

Summer grimly sighed in preparation for what she was about to say.

“Look, Miss. Despite my earlier misgivings, I appreciate you healing my daughter, and while I don’t quite approve of Arthur leaving to become your servant, I admit it’s something that I will have to live with.”

“That is wise of you. There is not much point in protesting that which cannot be changed.”

“However, there is one thing I must make clear to you. While I will have to live with the fact that my son will be leaving the nest earlier than I hoped you would, I want to make one thing clear to you.”

“Oh?” the Witch asked curiously. “And what would that be?”

Summer’s eyes then focused into a fiery glare as she answered, “Now that Arthur become involved in your world, I worry he will have to face all of the dangers that entails, so I’m going to tell you one thing: you will keep my son safe. I don’t care what kind of witch you are, or how much power you wield. If anything happens to my boy under your care, I will make sure you regret it.”

After a few seconds of wide-eyed surprise at Summer, the Witch’s face broke into an impressed smile as she chuckled, “You impress me, Summer Butcher. Ever since I arrived, you have shown little but fear of me and my kind, and here you are threatening me? I see where the boy gets his drive from. But as amusing as it may be to see you try to make good on your promise, you needn’t worry.”

Placing a hand on Summer’s shoulder, the Witch assured Summer, “I have no intention of allowing your son to come to harm under my care, and you have my word that I shall do everything in my power to ensure his safety. After all, the boy pledged his life to me, and I would rather he not renege on that part of our deal.”

“That isn’t exactly the reason I was hoping to hear,” Summer sighed, “But you’re still promising to protect my boy, so I suppose I can’t be picky.”

“I understand your concern, Summer Butcher. It is only natural for a mother to care for the well-being of her offspring. And I, of all beings, know that feeling all too well…”

Summer raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“You have children of your own?” she asked.

“Yes, of a sort,” the Witch replied with a shrug as she headed back towards the door. “Does my family life concern you?”

“Well, not particularly…”

“Then why ask?”

And as Summer took a moment to drink in the most polite way of telling someone “none of your gods-damned business” that she had ever heard, the Witch had already turned opened the door and was walking back to the hearth, and Summer soon followed.

O – O – O

It had barely even been a minute since Summer and the Witch had gone inside Morgan’s room to have their private conversation when the two emerged from the hallway.

“Well, Summer?” Harold asked his wife. “Did you say what you needed to?”

“Yes,” Summer sighed. “I think we’ve come to an understanding at the very least.”

“And again, I shall do all in my power to keep that understanding,” the Witch assured her. “But if none of you have any more business with me, I shall take my leave.”

“An’ not a moment tae soon,” Melion muttered as he opened the door for her to leave. “After ye, hag.”

“As you wish,” the Witch chuckled as she headed out the door.

Arthur and the rest of the family followed the Witch walked off of the Butchers’ front step and onto the grassy field where the modestly sized brick farmhouse lay, and behind it the tall wooden barn and vast fields of failed crop that dominated the view to the east. To the west, the green inclined down into the valley below where the rest of the village lay with its markets and smithies just now wakening to the morning sun. A dirt path extended from the farmhouse’s front step down into the village below, and further still into the distance where it split into many other roads leading to the various towns and villages beyond the valley, but the most direct of which continued straight ahead into the vast Dark Forest where the Witch made her home.

“Just don’ expect me tae let ye hitch a ride in me shadow,” Melion scoffed as the Witch looked upon the valley bathed in the morning rays.

“I have no need,” the Witch replied curtly, dismissing him with a wave of her hand, Arthur briefly noticing a swirl of grass green mist. “I know my way back, so I shall take the scenic route.”

But before she left, the Witch turned back to Arthur and gently told him, “Remember child; your service to me begins on the eve of the Winter Solstice. Cherish these remaining months you have left with your family. Not even your gods may know when you will have another chance afterward.”

“I know,” Arthur sighed. “I guess I’ll see you then, Miss.”

“Indeed. But before I go, I just should inform you that you should check your fields out back for a parting gift I just left out there.”

“And what will this cost us?”

“Nothing at all. I just felt like doing something nice before I went, free of charge. I hope you will enjoy it.”

Just as the Witch finished saying that, her long, black hair began to swirl about her without so much as a breeze in the air, until it enveloped her entire form, becoming a single pillar of pure darkness in the morning sun.

“Until we meet again, my servant.”

Then, the swirling darkness that had replaced the Witch’s form rose into the air and shrunk as it began to take a defined shape, until the Witch was but a jet black raven flying high into the sky towards the Dark Forest.

There the Butcher family stood, still in awe of their impromptu guest’s spectacular exit, looking at the ebon bird now flying for the distant forest, until it was but a speck on the morning horizon. No one had any words until Morgan broke the silence.

“Wow,” she said, looking to Melion. “Your ex sure knows how to make an exit, huh, Uncle?”

“WOT?!” Melion roared, completely flustered. “W-wot makes ye ‘tink I have THAT kind of history wit’ her?!”

“Well, it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

“Well, ye’re wrong! Any problem I had wit’ her even before today is strictly business!”

“If you say so, Uncle,” Morgan shrugged, looking not at all convinced.

“Never mind that,” Harold told his daughter, before looking to his son. “Arthur, what do you think she meant by a ‘parting gift?’”

“No idea,” Arthur shrugged. “But we know where to look to find out.”

Everyone nodded and they all cautiously circled around the farmhouse and past the barn, all the way to the wheat fields at the back of the property. None of them knew what to expect, but none of them came close to imagining exactly what the Witch had left for them.

Where there once laid failed crop dead from the summer drought now stood two whole rows of fully grown, perfectly healthy stalks of wheat, yellow as the midday sun and ripe for harvesting.

“I can’t believe it” Harold gasped, mouth totally agape at the sight. “All that wheat was dead as winter yesterday! How did she do it?”

“How did she literally pull a deadly plague out my lungs?” Morgan snidely retorted.

“Fair point,” Harold conceded. “Maybe a better question is why? Didn’t she say that she doesn’t work her magic for free?”

“She doesn’t when summun’ asks her fer help,” Melion clarified. “But ah’ve seen her pull out all the stops wit’ her magic just ‘cause she felt like it, an’ this looks no different. But who knows fer sure? Ah spent two years livin’ wit’ that woman before ah met ye, an’ I’m no closer tae understandin’ her now than I was back then.”

Never one to pass up an opportunity to tease her loved ones, Morgan snidely remarked, “You lived with her for two years just for ‘business,’ eh?”

“Would ye please drop it?” Melion groaned. “Surely thar should be sumthin’ else ye want tae talk ‘bout now that ye’re all better…”

“If you insist,” Morgan conceded. “So how does the wolf thing work, anyway? Do you ever get fleas or anything?”

“Ah was hopin’ ye’d forgotten that bit…”

“Not a chance.”

“That’s enough, young lady,” Summer warned her daughter. “Maybe you’ll want to get some rest now? You did only stop dying less than an hour ago.”

“Forget it, Ma. I’ve been stuck in bed in weeks, and it looks like you all could use all the help you can get with this.”

“Indeed we do,” Harold laughed. “This gift won’t exactly help with our money troubles until we’ve got it harvested, so we better hop to it! You two head inside to put on your work clothes; Arthur and I can head into the shed to see if we’ve got any tools left that won’t snap in half from rust after one swing.”

“And don’ count me out,” Melion interjected. “Ah might be more used tae usin’ a different kind of blade, but ye can count on me to help any way ah can.”

“Melion, you know I can’t ask you to-“

“Ask me or not, I’m helpin’ ye here! Say ah’m a guest in yer house all ye want Harry, but ye’re my family, an’ I intend to do my part. ‘Sides, wot kind of wolf doesn’t look after th’ pack?”

“Well, I guess I can’t argue with that,” Harold chuckled. “Come on then, let’s get started.”

The whole family headed back towards the house, parting ways as they reached the back of the house; Morgan and Summer going through the back door to get changed, and the men in the familyveering left towards the nearby tool shed. But as the three of them walked into the tool shed, expecting to have to sort through them all to find the least rusted among the heap, they were shocked again to see that it was not just the family’s grain that the Witch had restored: all of the aged tools that remained in the shed were too restored to perfect condition; formerly rotting wooden handles looking as pristine as they had never suffered so much as a woodlouse nibbling on them, and the steel of sickle and plow blades gleaming as though they had just been forged.

“I can’t believe it,” Harold said, still amazed even after all that had transpired that morning. “She did all of this… as a parting gift?”

“The old hag did love leavin’ an impression on people,” Melion said with a shrug. “Though ah’m still curious tae know how she knew this was exactly what ye all needed.”

“I may have mentioned our family’s financial situation back when I asked for her help,” Arthur admitted. “I just didn’t expect she would take it to heart the way she did.”

“Well, I guess that’s two things she’s done today that we can thank you for,” Harold said, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. Turning his head towards Melion, he asked his brother, “Mel, you know your way around horses from your travels, right?”

“Aye, ah’ve ridden more than me fair share. Wot do ye need done?”

“Then you can go down to the barn and get a horse and cart ready for us.”

“Ye’ve got it,” Melion told his brother as he turned back and exited the shed.

Taking a bit of time before he spoke, seemingly until he was sure Melion couldn’t hear him, and his hand still on Arthur’s shoulder, Harold turned back to his son and told him, “Arthur, I might wish that you’d have used a bit more caution in trying to help this family, and I’m certainly still not happy about the price you paid to do it, but… if you hadn’t have done it, then your sister wouldn’t have been with us much longer.”

“Yeah well, she would have done the same for any of us. Any one of us would.”

“I don’t even know about that. At the end of the day, you were the only one who was really willing to do something to help your sister, and… I guess I sort of feel that I should have been the one to do it.”

“Pa, don’t say that…”

“Don’t give me that, lad. I’m the parent here, and I’m the one that should have been looking out for you kids! And now I know I’m going to lose you because you went and did what I should have!”

Harold briefly removed his glasses to wipe away his tears, and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down before he spoke again.

“I guess what I’m trying to say Arthur,” he continued as he put his glasses back on, “is thanks for helping this family when I couldn’t.”

Before Arthur could say anything, his father drew him in for a tight hug and sobbed, “I’m going to miss you, my boy!”

“Thanks, Pa,” Arthur said sadly. “I’ll miss all of you, too. But we don’t need to say goodbye just yet. We’ve still got a few months before the Solstice.”

“Indeed we do,” Harold said as he broke his embrace with his son, a smile returning to his face. “So, are you ready to help out your old man with the harvest one last time?”

Arthur felt a twinge of regret as it sunk in farther than ever what he had given up for his family’s sake. But he buried that feeling, knowing he has asked to do the one opportunity he would never give up.

“Nothing would make me happier, Pa.”

O – O – O

Nearly two hours since they had begun, Arthur cut yet more stalks of grain loose of the ground with one sweep of a scythe. Pausing a moment to catch his breath, Arthur put down the tool to pick up the piles of wheat he had harvested this past minute and put it in a woven basket at his feet, which he then picked up and carried out of the field, passing by his father, who was hard at work cutting at a patch of his own.

Halfway between the wheat fields and the farmhouse, Arthur found Morgan and their mother were bent down next to a large pile of harvested wheat tying them up into bundles, with quite a few bundles already tied up between them.

“Hey bro,” Morgan said as she tied up another bundle, looking up to see his basket full of harvested wheat. “Just dump it on the pile there; we’ll get to it soon enough.”

“All right,” Arthur said as he did so. “Looks like you two have been working really fast with this job.”

“Yeah, well I like to make up for lost time,” Morgan said casually as she grasped another bunch of wheat from the pile in one hand, and some twine in the other to start tying it up.

“You’re being careful not to overexert yourself, right?”

“Oh come off it, Arthur, I feel perfectly fine!”

“Sorry, but you can’t blame me for worrying. You were dying a few hours ago.”

“And now I’m not. You’ve done more than enough for me today.”

Before Arthur could so much as open his mouth in protest, their mother told him, “It’s alright Arthur, you don’t need to worry,” as she tied another bundle herself. “I’ll be right here keeping an eye on your sister in case she exhausts herself.”

It was then that Melion drove up in a horse and cart from the direction of the barn for another trip back, the bed of the cart bare of wheat except for a few loose straws from the last few trips.

“A’right ladies,” Melion announced as he brought the horse and cart to a full stop next to the three. “Just pile ‘em on there!”

“Why even bother with the horses?” Morgan joked as she threw another bundle of wheat onto Melion’s cart. “Why not just wolf out and pull it yourself?”

“That’s cute,” Melion scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Just keep pilin’ ‘em on there.”

“Oh, you’re no fun,” Morgan pouted as she kept throwing more tied wheat onto the cart.

Turning his head towards Arthur, Melion grumbled, “Ye know this be all yer fault, Arty.

“So it would seem,” Arthur chuckled as he picked his basket back up and headed back into the field to return to harvesting.

But even as he returned to cutting the magically regrown wheat from the soil like clockwork as he had done every year past for as long as he could remember, Arthur could not help but bitterly reflect on the scant three months he had to spend with his family before the Winter Solstice. Before today, he had thought he would be working this farm for his whole life.

And now, he thought that even that would not be enough.

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The Butcher family farmhouse went silent just after the Witch of the Woods emerged from Arthur’s shadow, her slender, statuesque form towering over them all and her long onyx hair fanning out behind her like a cape in the wind, seemingly under its own power. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the Witch, faces white with shock.

“Now that your question has been answered,” the Witch asked Summer Butcher with hooded eyes closed and a gentle smile on her lips, “may you be so kind as to show me to the patient?”

Pulling in her son into her embrace even more tightly, Summer snarled at the Witch, “Don’t come any closer,” shuddering in fear even as she bared her teeth, her worn, tear-stained face contorted into a scowl of rage. “Leave this house now.”

The Witch cocked her head to the side, seemingly perplexed by the demand, before saying, “Well, I can hardly heal what ails your daughter if I’m not here, can I?”

“And we’re supposed to believe you’ll just help us without a price?” Harold snapped back, the burly, spectacled patriarch of the family still keeping his distance from this uninvited guest.

“Of course you shouldn’t. Luckily for you and your daughter, your son has been so kind as to provide sufficient payment.”

Harold turned to his son, still held tight in Summer’s embrace, and asked, “And what payment would that be?”

With a teary-eyed sigh, Arthur softly said, “Nothing we can’t afford to lose.”

“What do you mean, Arthur?” Harold inquired further, only to feel Melion’s meaty hand on his shoulder.

“S’ a bit late to grill th’ lad ‘bout it now,” the scarred, bearded warrior said solemnly. “Arty told me ev’rythin’. An’ trust me when ah tell ye he couldn’ renege on this deal if he wanted tae. An’ ah’d know.”

“You’d know? You mean this is the same witch that you-“

“Aye. Ah didn’ want tae let Arty know ‘bout me history wit’ her, so I thought ah could talk ‘im outta it wit’out bringin’ it up, but… wot’s done is done.”

“Melion,” the Witch interrupted, “is it not impolite to speak of present company as if they were not here?”

“Yeah, well ah’ve never bin one fer courtesy,” Melion spat, his black, mane-like beard bristling with contempt. “’Sides, ye wanna talk ‘bout impolite? Try hidin’ in summun’s shadow to git in their house uninvited.”

“At least when I enter a place uninvited, I don’t break down any doors. Besides, I needed to know where Arthur’s house was so I could administer treatment, and you two left in such a hurry I could not ask, so I unfortunately had to tag along discreetly.”

“Sure, an’ ah I suppose th’ prospect of seein’ th’ looks on ev’ryone’s faces had nuttin’ tae do wit’ it.”

The Witch momentarily paused just as she seemed about to make a retort, only to say, “I shall neither confirm nor deny that.”

Turning back towards Summer, the Witch asked her, “So, will you allow me to see to your daughter? I’m afraid your son and I have a contract, so I cannot back out of my end of the deal any more than he can his.”

Breaking her embrace with her son, Summer grilled the Witch further, “You swear to us you will do no harm to anyone in this house?”

“Of course I do. What reason would I have to inflict harm on any one of you? But if it puts you at ease for me to say it, then you have my word that once I have left, you and your entire family shall remain healthy and unharmed.”

Running her fingers through her fading blonde hair, Summer turned to Melion and asked the old huntsman, “Can she be trusted?”

“I wouldn’ go that far,” Melion sighed, “but ah I can tell ye that when she gives her word, she means it.”

Even as Melion vouched for the Witch, Summer stepped out of her way only begrudgingly, and sighed, “It’s right this way,” before walking towards the hallway with the Witch, and soon after, the rest of Arthur’s family, closely following behind.

When they reached the door to Morgan’s room, Summer opened the door and cautiously stepped aside. The Witch approached the open door, but before the walked in, stopped to assure Arthur’s parents with a smile, “Worry not. When I next exit this room, your daughter will be following me, as healthy as she was before the White Plague came to her.”

As Arthur and the rest of the family listened from outside the open door, the Witch of the Woods stepped inside Morgan’s room, slowly approaching the bed under a shuttered window at the far end of the room where her patient was sleeping. Still bundled under layers of extra blankets and her head resting on a pile of spare pillows, Morgan Butcher lay in bed fast asleep, her skin as sickly pale as it had been when Arthur left and her dishevelled brown locks splayed all over the top pillow she rested on. The moment the Witch stood above her patient, she stopped and spoke, “Hello, Morgan Butcher.”

Morgan opened her sky blue eyes, still bordered with dark circles, and the first thing she saw was the Witch of the Woods looming over her. Without so much as a hint of surprise, she sighed and asked, “Are you Death?”

“Sometimes I am,” the Witch replied as she looked her patient up and down. “But today, my child, I am the opposite.”

Morgan nodded in understanding. “So you’re that Witch Arthur ran off to find, then? You’re easier on the eyes than I would of thought.”

“Oh?” the Witch asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. “You knew, then?”

“Of course I knew. I might pass out a lot these days, but I still have ears, you know. And my family hasn’t exactly been keeping their voices down when talking about it.”

Stepping out from behind the doorframe and into Morgan’s view, Arthur sighed guiltily, “How long have you known?”

“I guessed something was up when you guys’ arguing woke me yesterday and you pretended everything was fine. Since then, I’ve been keeping quiet every time you guys woke me up. Especially during the freak out that happened once Ma and Pa noticed you were missing. Were you even going to tell me you were thinking of bringing a witch here to help me?”

“Well,” Arthur began defensively, “I kind of did tell you…”

Flashing Arthur a rather unimpressed glare, Morgan asked, “You said it while I was still sleeping, didn’t you?”

Even the Witch paused from examining Morgan to look back at Arthur disapprovingly as the young man looked down guiltily, making not even a token attempt to justify himself.

“Far from the commendable way to go about such a thing,” she said coolly.

“That’s… true,” Arthur sighed.

“You’re a coward,” Morgan continued.

“Running into a forest crawling with monsters is cowardly?” Arthur said defensively.

“There are many forms of both courage and cowardice, Arthur,” the Witch sternly told him as she went back to examining Morgan. “And not all of them are mutually exclusive between the two categories.”

Arthur was about to raise a finger in protest, only to lower it and sigh, “Yeah, I guess.”

“But commenting on your how your brother’s actions reflect on him is not why I am here,” the Witch continued. “Curing what ails you, however, is. Would you like me to proceed, Morgan Butcher?”

“Well, it’s got to be better than lying here sick all day,” Morgan replied between coughs. “But before you do it, I have one more question.”

“Ask, my child, and I will answer.”

“What will this cost us?”

The Witch simply looked down at Morgan and smiled reassuringly as she said, “The cost has already been paid.”

Morgan simply struck an apprehensive glare back in Arthur’s direction and asked, “Why am I not surprised?”

“There will be plenty of time for explanations when we are done here,” the Witch reassured Morgan.

“There’d better be,” Morgan coughed, clearly directing her comment more at Arthur then the Witch herself. “Please get this other with.”

“If that is what you wish, my child.”

Upon saying such, the Witch raised one hand over Morgan and began to chant under her breath. Arthur was too far away to make out much of what she was saying, only catching a few sentences that sounded like ‘spirits of the air’ and ‘water of this child’s breath.’ But what then happened before his eyes was clear as day.

At first all Arthur could see were several undefined shapes shimmering in the air. But just as he was about to squint to try and make out what exactly they were, he began to see them clearly. They were not shapes in the air as Arthur had thought at first; it was more like the air itself was taking shape in those areas, forming into tiny human-like figures dancing high and low about the room, not dissimilar in appearance to storybook pictures of sprites and pixies.

From the doorway where Arthur was still standing and the rest of his family were peering in from the corner, he wondered aloud, “What are those things?”

“What things?” Harold asked curiously. “Isn’t she just waving her hand around and chanting?”

It was then that Arthur recalled how the Witch had been surprised that he could see the green flames that accompanied the sealing of their pact. Between that and these air spirits’ apparent invisibility to his father’s eyes, did that mean most people could not see the Witch’s magic other than its most obvious effects? Arthur pondered exactly how to explain this to his father, only for Melion to place his massive hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and when Arthur looked up, his Uncle was giving him an understanding smile.

“It’s nuttin’ too important,” Melion said, turning back to Harold. “Ah’ll be sure tae explain after all this is over.”

With his father seemingly satisfied for now by what his uncle had said, Arthur turned his attention back to Morgan’s room. As the Witch continued to chant, these strange spirits of air began to form a circle above Morgan’s head, the flow of their dancing seeming to be directed upwards towards the ceiling. The purpose behind this soon become clear, as the normally imperceptible droplets expelled by each of Morgan’s coughs began to join together at the centre of the circle of dancers and condense into a single globule of moisture.

As Morgan continued to cough out more droplets that joined this single mass, her sickly pallid skin slowly but surely return to the rosy complexion Arthur remembered, and the space between each cough began to lengthen. Eventually, even the circles under Morgan’s eyes began to disappear, as she coughed one final time, and the last droplets of sickness merged with the single glob floating above her face, now the size of an orange. It was then that the Witch ceased her chanting, and dismissed the dancing air spirits with a wave of her hand.

“How do you now feel, Morgan Butcher?” the Witch asked her patient as she swirled her hand around, drawing in the diseased globe of liquid to float above the palm of her hand.

Morgan opened her eyes and said in surprise, “I feel… well,” her voice clear and uninterrupted for the first time in weeks. It was then that she noticed the orb of slimy liquid floating above the Witch’s hand and began to ask, “Is that-“

“…the remnants of the plague that ailed you? Why yes, it is. Or rather…” the Witch paused as she pressed her thumb and index finger together, and the globule shrunk down into nothing, “it was.”

Morgan took a deep breath without so much as the slightest cough and sighed, “It’s over, then.”

“Indeed it is, my child. Do you have the strength to stand up?”

Morgan shot the Witch a slight smirk and said, “Time to find out.”

Without the slightest hesitation, Morgan threw off the sheets covering her, and swung her legs around to the side of her bed, lowered her feet to the floor, pushed herself up, before carefully taking her first step forward in weeks.

Not displaying so much as a weakness in the legs, Morgan walked over the Witch herself, and looked up at her to simply say, “Thank you, Miss.”

“It was my pleasure, Morgan Butcher,” the Witch said with a smile, before looking to Arthur and saying, “but I am not the one you should thank for me coming here.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Morgan said sternly as she turned towards her brother in the doorway, “I haven’t forgotten about brother dearest one bit.”

Arthur tensed up as he saw his fully recovered sister run right towards him, but rather than the deck to the face he was expecting, he received instead a tighter bear hug than even he would normally receive from Melion.

“Thanks, Arthur,” Morgan said to her brother sincerely. “Don’t know how much longer I’d be here if you didn’t do what you did. Just don’t go behind my back next time, yeah?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Arthur said softly as he returned his sister’s embrace just as strongly, only to sigh, “And I don’t think I’ll have many more opportunities to do so anyway.”

Morgan then backed out of the hug and gave her brother a concerned look as she began to ask, “What do you mean by-,“ only to be blindsided by her mother with another hug.

“Oh, Morgan!” Summer sobbed in relief, “I’m so glad you’re all better!”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Harold tearfully said as he joined in the embrace, even he failing to hold back the tears any further.

“And don’ forget ‘bout me!” Melion roared as he joined in as well, his massive frame nearly blocking the hallway for the rest of the family.

Arthur joined back in on the family group hug as well, and Morgan seemed to have forgotten the worrying thing that Arthur had said to her, or at least at put the thought on hold, until they were interrupted by the Witch clearing her throat from back in Morgan’s room.

“I am sorry to interrupt this moment for you,” she said sincerely, “but I believe that it is pertinent that we discuss the terms of Arthur and I’s agreement sooner than later.”

“I suppose we should,” Summer said distrustfully as the family broke their embrace with Morgan.

Arthur took a deep breath as everyone walked to the house’s hearth to take a seat at the family’s round dinner table. He was certainly not looking forward to the coming discussion.

Arthur’s unease was not helped when Morgan gave him a nudge in the ribs as he was sitting down in front of the fireplace and asked, “Wait, the terms of what agreement, exactly?”

“You’ll learn that soon enough,” Arthur sighed. “But long story short, it turns out this woman doesn’t work for free…”

“Ye can say that again,” Melion growled.

Looking up at her uncle just as she had found herself a seat next to Arthur, Morgan asked, “Wait, you know this witch too, Uncle? How?”

Seemingly just realising that his niece was not yet in the know, Melion gave Morgan an uneasy smile and began to stammer, “W-well, it’s nuttin’ all that int’resting, Morgan…”

Throwing caution into the wind, Arthur simply said, “She turned him into a werewolf a long time ago.”

Melion and Arthur’s parents gave their two children a panicked look as Morgan asked, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Also, Ma and Pa have known the whole time and never told us.”

“Seriously?” Morgan asked incredulously as she shot an astonished glance towards the three.

Melion’s jaw dropped open as Harold asked, “Damn it boy, why would you tell her that now of all times?!”

“Because I’ve already been yelled at by this family for doing something stupid behind everyone’s backs and will probably be yelled at more once this conversation gets going, so it’s only fair I not be the only one who has to come clean today.”

“My, your family seems to have quite a bit of difficulty staying on the same page,” the Witch mused as she took a seat next to Arthur.

“Oh come off it, it’s technically yer fault!” Melion snapped back.

“Perhaps it is. But it was still your decision to leave these children in the dark, wasn’t it?”

Before either Melion or Arthur’s parents could open their mouths in protest, Morgan took a seat herself and said, “Sooooo… about this werewolf thing…”

“Technically, the proper term is ‘skinchanger,’” the Witch interjected, “but I suppose if you insist on differentiating such beings by their specific animal forms, ‘werewolf’ is as apt a description as any.”

“Do ye really think this is th’ right time tae talk about this?” Melion groaned as he slumped down in his seat across from Arthur.

“Well, I’m not going to stop thinking about it now that you’ve brought it up! Like what, is she also the werewolf that bit you, or something?”

“That is mere superstition, child. A bite from a skinchanger is no different from any beast of their size. Such beings are either born with their dual forms, or they gain such abilities from a magical boon or curse.”

“That’s enough about that for now,” he Harold said sternly, he and Summer now seated between Morgan and Melion. “That can wait for another time. We have more pressing matters at hand, don’t we, Miss?”

“Indeed,” the Witch replied. “But since all of you will no doubt be unhappy with what I have to say, perhaps I can provide refreshments while we talk. It is the least I can do, given the circumstances.”

Before anyone could ponder exactly what the Witch meant by that, cups of hot tea suddenly appeared on the table.

Arthur’s family uneasily looked down at the teacups that the Witch had just conjured. The Witch herself seemed to notice this, and reassured them, “Don’t worry, as I told Arthur earlier, it won’t turn you into frogs.”

Morgan had just begun to cautiously lift up her cup when she stopped to ask, “Why would that even need clarification?”

“I would hope it wouldn’t, but Arthur needed it clarified earlier anyway, so I thought maybe it was a common concern around here.”

“Well, it isn’t.”

“Well, then. And here I thought your brother’s earlier concerns would make greater sense when I met his family.”

“Well in my defense,” Arthur began sheepishly, “I didn’t know that much about witches other than from a lot of unflattering stories, and it was just shortly after I saw her casually disintegrating a giant monster.”

Summer turned towards Arthur, looking very concerned and asked, “I’m sorry, but what giant monster?”

“The one that had just swallowed him,” the Witch casually replied.

Burying her head in her hands, Summer deeply sighed, “See Arthur, this is why we didn’t want you going into that forest.”

“But nevertheless,” the Witch continued, “I can assure you that my tea is completely safe to drink, as I am sure both Arthur and Melion can attest.”

“Actually, ah’d attest tae th’ opposite,” Melion muttered.

“Oh come now Melion, my tea brewing may have involved a bit of trial and error, but my first brews weren’t that bad!”

“Tell that tae me poor stomach right after we met.”

Arthur turned to his uncle and let him know, “Don’t worry Uncle, I had her tea earlier, and it is actually quite good.”

“Well, ah guess if Arty vouches fer it, ah’ll be th’ canary in th’ coal mine fer th’ rest of ye,” Melion sighed as he cautiously took a sip, visibly preparing for the worst, only to look pleasantly surprised as he swallowed.

“Well ah’ll be damned, ye old hag. It only took ye over twenty years tae do it, but ye finally managed to brew sumthin’ edible.”

“Well, I suppose that’s the closest thing to a compliment I shall expect to hear from you,” the Witch said with a slight chuckle.

“Damn straight it is,” Melion said before continuing to drink his tea.

Slowly but surely, the rest of Arthur’s family cautiously tasted the Witch’s tea, and all seemed to enjoy it to varying extents.

“Well,” the Witch began, tenting her fingers and assuming a very businesslike posture, “now that we have finished this strangely long tangent regarding my tea’s lack of transformative properties, I believe we should get down to business. As you all have no doubt gathered by now, I did not heal your daughter out of pity. I require payment for my services, but luckily for all of you, your son has graciously agreed to pay my price on your behalf.”

“And exactly what kind of ‘payment’ did Arthur promise you, then?” Summer worriedly inquired. “Will you take his soul?”

“Of course not!” the Witch scoffed as she shot Summer a look of absolute bewilderment. “What use would I have for such a thing? I have yet to even work out what my own soul is for, much less what I’d do with anyone else’s.”

“Well… there are a lot of tales about devils taking the souls of those mortals they forge pacts with.”

“Then I am certainly glad to not be a devil.”

Sighing heavily, Arthur spoke up.

“I have to be her servant.”

The whole room went silent. Arthur’s parents and sister stared at him in shock. Melion grimly sighed as he shook his head. The Witch, however, maintained a neutral expression as she patiently waited for them to inquire on the matter further.

“She told me the only payment she would accept to save a life was another life in return,” Arthur explained further, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. “So to get her to heal Morgan, I had to promise to work for her forever.”

Summer buried her face in her hands as she shed more tears. Harold looked away to hide his expression as he cursed under his breath. It was Morgan that moved the discussion forward.

“So he’ll be your slave?” she asked the Witch in an accusatory tone, cutting her a sideways glance.

“Not one to mince words, are you?” the Witch asked before continuing, “If we are to consider technical definitions of such terminology, that isn’t quite the case without any formal documentation of ownership from this kingdom’s government. However, I will admit it is functionally similar.”

“Is that supposed to make us feel any better?” scoffed, clearly unimpressed.

“Feel about it as you will. I was simply stating a fact.”

“All in th’ name of ‘equal trade,’” Melion scoffed. “Ye always did have a strange idea of what makes a fair trade.”

“I don’t see what’s so strange about it. Your nephew asked me to save a life, so I asked for him to give his life in return. How is that an unfair exchange? Perhaps you are still unhappy with the terms of your own bargain with me?” The Witch briefly paused to survey everyone present before continuing, “Although it would seem that you did get exactly what you asked for, so why complain?”

“Don’ push yer luck,” Melion growled.

“So is this the same trade you made with that beggar?” Harold inquired bluntly.

“I beg your pardon?” the Witch asked back.

“The doctor who told us about you said that, ten years ago, you healed a penniless leper outside the town walls of Greenwood. He also said that soon afterward he saw that same vagrant heading towards your forest, never to return. I take he became a servant of yours, as well?”

This caught Arthur’s attention. It was the first time he’d heard of the Witch’s power, but he had not thought to ask about the specifics himself when he was making his own bargain in the Witch’s cottage.

Placing a finger on her chin, the Witch recalled out loud, “Ten years ago… healing leprosy… oh, you must mean Lawrence! Why yes, he did agree to become my servant as payment for my services. He said that he had no family of his own, so he was less conflicted about my terms, but tragically, as an older gentleman, my end of the bargain could only prolong his life by only half a decade before old age claimed him.”

“Oh,” Harold said. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It is quite alright. Having lived longer than most mortals can count, I’ve since accepted that those I encounter will die, no matter how fond I grow of them. It is a fact of nature that not even I can change.”

There was a brief silence after that, but it was only a matter of time before it was broken by Harold.

“Sorry to hear that Miss, but we should get back to the subject at hand. Namely, what will Arthur’s service to you entail, exactly? Anything we should be worried about?”

“Ah, but of course!” the Witch said, perking back up. “As I told your son earlier, I shouldn’t need him to do any tasks all that different from what he is familiar with. Most of what I will need his assistance for will be things such as helping with cooking, gardening, cleaning and tending to the animals in the stables.”

“Will he have to do anything directly related to your… um, line of work?” Summer asked uncomfortably.

“Not quite as often as you would fear,” the Witch reassured her. “Of course, I will need him to go out do errands for me when I am otherwise occupied, as well as accompany me to provide an extra pair of hands when my business brings me out of the forest. Occasionally I may call on his assistance to help me brew potions for clients, but nothing that should endanger him any more than the farm work that he is familiar with.”

“Well… that’s a relief, I suppose,” Summer said cautiously.

It was Morgan who asked the most pressing question of the meeting.

“Will we ever see my brother again?”

Arthur’s parents tensed up and began to take deep breaths. Clearly they were not looking forward to having to hear the answer to this particular question.

The Witch smiled warmly at Morgan and told her, “My child, of course you will. I am not averse to giving your brother a day off on occasion, and even if we pass through this area as part of my business I am not so cruel that I would deny him the opportunity to drop by this farm for a visit. But before you get your hopes up, I should fully disclose that such occasions will not come very often.”

“Oh, I see,” Morgan sighed, seemingly both relieved and disappointed in equal measure. “Then, could we at least write to him once in a while, to check that he’s okay?”

“Hmm,” the Witch pondered, placing a finger on her chin in contemplation. “I’m afraid that I don’t know of any mail service that would deliver to my house that you would have access to, but I’m sure I can arrange a way for you all to keep in touch with Arthur, if you would like.”

“Thanks, Miss. That means a lot to me.”

“And besides, there should have plenty of time to work out such an arrangement, since I won’t need Arthur’s assistance until the coming winter.”

Arthur’s family perked up in relief upon hearing that news.

“Arthur, is that true?” Morgan asked her brother, visibly eager to have her hopes confirmed.

Arthur nodded. “That’s what she told me before we made the deal.”

“Were you really under the impression that I would just give these explanations and then immediately take you brother away without ample time to say his goodbyes?” the Witch asked curiously. “Perish the thought! I will admit to being harsh, but I do make an attempt to not be unnecessarily cruel.”

“Wit’ varyin’ degrees of success,” Melion muttered as he finished his tea.

“That’s enough, Mel,” Harold sternly told his brother.

“No need to tell him off now,” the Witch said with a smile. “That should be the end of all I need to tell you about the terms of Arthur and I’s agreement, so I will soon be on my way if there are no further questions.”

As the Witch said that, Summer stood up and asked her, “Before you leave, Miss, perhaps we could share a word in private?”

The whole family stared at Summer in surprise. Throughout this whole affair Summer had been the most adamant about the family having nothing to do with witches, and here she was requesting a word alone with one. The Witch herself, for her part, appeared intrigued by the request.

“If you insist,” the Witch said as she rose from her seat and followed Summer into Morgan’s now vacant bedroom. Summer stepped aside to allow the Witch to enter first, before closing the door behind her.

O – O – O

“All right, Mrs. Butcher,” the Witch began, “What is it you wished to discuss that you would rather your family not be privy to?”

Summer grimly sighed in preparation for what she was about to say.

“Look, Miss. Despite my earlier misgivings, I appreciate you healing my daughter, and while I don’t quite approve of Arthur leaving to become your servant, I admit it’s something that I will have to live with.”

“That is wise of you. There is not much point in protesting that which cannot be changed.”

“However, there is one thing I must make clear to you. While I will have to live with the fact that my son will be leaving the nest earlier than I hoped you would, I want to make one thing clear to you.”

“Oh?” the Witch asked curiously. “And what would that be?”

Summer’s eyes then focused into a fiery glare as she answered, “Now that Arthur become involved in your world, I worry he will have to face all of the dangers that entails, so I’m going to tell you one thing: you will keep my son safe. I don’t care what kind of witch you are, or how much power you wield. If anything happens to my boy under your care, I will make sure you regret it.”

After a few seconds of wide-eyed surprise at Summer, the Witch’s face broke into an impressed smile as she chuckled, “You impress me, Summer Butcher. Ever since I arrived, you have shown little but fear of me and my kind, and here you are threatening me? I see where the boy gets his drive from. But as amusing as it may be to see you try to make good on your promise, you needn’t worry.”

Placing a hand on Summer’s shoulder, the Witch assured Summer, “I have no intention of allowing your son to come to harm under my care, and you have my word that I shall do everything in my power to ensure his safety. After all, the boy pledged his life to me, and I would rather he not renege on that part of our deal.”

“That isn’t exactly the reason I was hoping to hear,” Summer sighed, “But you’re still promising to protect my boy, so I suppose I can’t be picky.”

“I understand your concern, Summer Butcher. It is only natural for a mother to care for the well-being of her offspring. And I, of all beings, know that feeling all too well…”

Summer raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“You have children of your own?” she asked.

“Yes, of a sort,” the Witch replied with a shrug as she headed back towards the door. “Does my family life concern you?”

“Well, not particularly…”

“Then why ask?”

And as Summer took a moment to drink in the most polite way of telling someone “none of your gods-damned business” that she had ever heard, the Witch had already turned opened the door and was walking back to the hearth, and Summer soon followed.

O – O – O

It had barely even been a minute since Summer and the Witch had gone inside Morgan’s room to have their private conversation when the two emerged from the hallway.

“Well, Summer?” Harold asked his wife. “Did you say what you needed to?”

“Yes,” Summer sighed. “I think we’ve come to an understanding at the very least.”

“And again, I shall do all in my power to keep that understanding,” the Witch assured her. “But if none of you have any more business with me, I shall take my leave.”

“An’ not a moment tae soon,” Melion muttered as he opened the door for her to leave. “After ye, hag.”

“As you wish,” the Witch chuckled as she headed out the door.

Arthur and the rest of the family followed the Witch walked off of the Butchers’ front step and onto the grassy field where the modestly sized brick farmhouse lay, and behind it the tall wooden barn and vast fields of failed crop that dominated the view to the east. To the west, the green inclined down into the valley below where the rest of the village lay with its markets and smithies just now wakening to the morning sun. A dirt path extended from the farmhouse’s front step down into the village below, and further still into the distance where it split into many other roads leading to the various towns and villages beyond the valley, but the most direct of which continued straight ahead into the vast Dark Forest where the Witch made her home.

“Just don’ expect me tae let ye hitch a ride in me shadow,” Melion scoffed as the Witch looked upon the valley bathed in the morning rays.

“I have no need,” the Witch replied curtly, dismissing him with a wave of her hand, Arthur briefly noticing a swirl of grass green mist. “I know my way back, so I shall take the scenic route.”

But before she left, the Witch turned back to Arthur and gently told him, “Remember child; your service to me begins on the eve of the Winter Solstice. Cherish these remaining months you have left with your family. Not even your gods may know when you will have another chance afterward.”

“I know,” Arthur sighed. “I guess I’ll see you then, Miss.”

“Indeed. But before I go, I just should inform you that you should check your fields out back for a parting gift I just left out there.”

“And what will this cost us?”

“Nothing at all. I just felt like doing something nice before I went, free of charge. I hope you will enjoy it.”

Just as the Witch finished saying that, her long, black hair began to swirl about her without so much as a breeze in the air, until it enveloped her entire form, becoming a single pillar of pure darkness in the morning sun.

“Until we meet again, my servant.”

Then, the swirling darkness that had replaced the Witch’s form rose into the air and shrunk as it began to take a defined shape, until the Witch was but a jet black raven flying high into the sky towards the Dark Forest.

There the Butcher family stood, still in awe of their impromptu guest’s spectacular exit, looking at the ebon bird now flying for the distant forest, until it was but a speck on the morning horizon. No one had any words until Morgan broke the silence.

“Wow,” she said, looking to Melion. “Your ex sure knows how to make an exit, huh, Uncle?”

“WOT?!” Melion roared, completely flustered. “W-wot makes ye ‘tink I have THAT kind of history wit’ her?!”

“Well, it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

“Well, ye’re wrong! Any problem I had wit’ her even before today is strictly business!”

“If you say so, Uncle,” Morgan shrugged, looking not at all convinced.

“Never mind that,” Harold told his daughter, before looking to his son. “Arthur, what do you think she meant by a ‘parting gift?’”

“No idea,” Arthur shrugged. “But we know where to look to find out.”

Everyone nodded and they all cautiously circled around the farmhouse and past the barn, all the way to the wheat fields at the back of the property. None of them knew what to expect, but none of them came close to imagining exactly what the Witch had left for them.

Where there once laid failed crop dead from the summer drought now stood two whole rows of fully grown, perfectly healthy stalks of wheat, yellow as the midday sun and ripe for harvesting.

“I can’t believe it” Harold gasped, mouth totally agape at the sight. “All that wheat was dead as winter yesterday! How did she do it?”

“How did she literally pull a deadly plague out my lungs?” Morgan snidely retorted.

“Fair point,” Harold conceded. “Maybe a better question is why? Didn’t she say that she doesn’t work her magic for free?”

“She doesn’t when summun’ asks her fer help,” Melion clarified. “But ah’ve seen her pull out all the stops wit’ her magic just ‘cause she felt like it, an’ this looks no different. But who knows fer sure? Ah spent two years livin’ wit’ that woman before ah met ye, an’ I’m no closer tae understandin’ her now than I was back then.”

Never one to pass up an opportunity to tease her loved ones, Morgan snidely remarked, “You lived with her for two years just for ‘business,’ eh?”

“Would ye please drop it?” Melion groaned. “Surely thar should be sumthin’ else ye want tae talk ‘bout now that ye’re all better…”

“If you insist,” Morgan conceded. “So how does the wolf thing work, anyway? Do you ever get fleas or anything?”

“Ah was hopin’ ye’d forgotten that bit…”

“Not a chance.”

“That’s enough, young lady,” Summer warned her daughter. “Maybe you’ll want to get some rest now? You did only stop dying less than an hour ago.”

“Forget it, Ma. I’ve been stuck in bed in weeks, and it looks like you all could use all the help you can get with this.”

“Indeed we do,” Harold laughed. “This gift won’t exactly help with our money troubles until we’ve got it harvested, so we better hop to it! You two head inside to put on your work clothes; Arthur and I can head into the shed to see if we’ve got any tools left that won’t snap in half from rust after one swing.”

“And don’ count me out,” Melion interjected. “Ah might be more used tae usin’ a different kind of blade, but ye can count on me to help any way ah can.”

“Melion, you know I can’t ask you to-“

“Ask me or not, I’m helpin’ ye here! Say ah’m a guest in yer house all ye want Harry, but ye’re my family, an’ I intend to do my part. ‘Sides, wot kind of wolf doesn’t look after th’ pack?”

“Well, I guess I can’t argue with that,” Harold chuckled. “Come on then, let’s get started.”

The whole family headed back towards the house, parting ways as they reached the back of the house; Morgan and Summer going through the back door to get changed, and the men in the familyveering left towards the nearby tool shed. But as the three of them walked into the tool shed, expecting to have to sort through them all to find the least rusted among the heap, they were shocked again to see that it was not just the family’s grain that the Witch had restored: all of the aged tools that remained in the shed were too restored to perfect condition; formerly rotting wooden handles looking as pristine as they had never suffered so much as a woodlouse nibbling on them, and the steel of sickle and plow blades gleaming as though they had just been forged.

“I can’t believe it,” Harold said, still amazed even after all that had transpired that morning. “She did all of this… as a parting gift?”

“The old hag did love leavin’ an impression on people,” Melion said with a shrug. “Though ah’m still curious tae know how she knew this was exactly what ye all needed.”

“I may have mentioned our family’s financial situation back when I asked for her help,” Arthur admitted. “I just didn’t expect she would take it to heart the way she did.”

“Well, I guess that’s two things she’s done today that we can thank you for,” Harold said, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. Turning his head towards Melion, he asked his brother, “Mel, you know your way around horses from your travels, right?”

“Aye, ah’ve ridden more than me fair share. Wot do ye need done?”

“Then you can go down to the barn and get a horse and cart ready for us.”

“Ye’ve got it,” Melion told his brother as he turned back and exited the shed.

Taking a bit of time before he spoke, seemingly until he was sure Melion couldn’t hear him, and his hand still on Arthur’s shoulder, Harold turned back to his son and told him, “Arthur, I might wish that you’d have used a bit more caution in trying to help this family, and I’m certainly still not happy about the price you paid to do it, but… if you hadn’t have done it, then your sister wouldn’t have been with us much longer.”

“Yeah well, she would have done the same for any of us. Any one of us would.”

“I don’t even know about that. At the end of the day, you were the only one who was really willing to do something to help your sister, and… I guess I sort of feel that I should have been the one to do it.”

“Pa, don’t say that…”

“Don’t give me that, lad. I’m the parent here, and I’m the one that should have been looking out for you kids! And now I know I’m going to lose you because you went and did what I should have!”

Harold briefly removed his glasses to wipe away his tears, and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down before he spoke again.

“I guess what I’m trying to say Arthur,” he continued as he put his glasses back on, “is thanks for helping this family when I couldn’t.”

Before Arthur could say anything, his father drew him in for a tight hug and sobbed, “I’m going to miss you, my boy!”

“Thanks, Pa,” Arthur said sadly. “I’ll miss all of you, too. But we don’t need to say goodbye just yet. We’ve still got a few months before the Solstice.”

“Indeed we do,” Harold said as he broke his embrace with his son, a smile returning to his face. “So, are you ready to help out your old man with the harvest one last time?”

Arthur felt a twinge of regret as it sunk in farther than ever what he had given up for his family’s sake. But he buried that feeling, knowing he has asked to do the one opportunity he would never give up.

“Nothing would make me happier, Pa.”

O – O – O

Nearly two hours since they had begun, Arthur cut yet more stalks of grain loose of the ground with one sweep of a scythe. Pausing a moment to catch his breath, Arthur put down the tool to pick up the piles of wheat he had harvested this past minute and put it in a woven basket at his feet, which he then picked up and carried out of the field, passing by his father, who was hard at work cutting at a patch of his own.

Halfway between the wheat fields and the farmhouse, Arthur found Morgan and their mother were bent down next to a large pile of harvested wheat tying them up into bundles, with quite a few bundles already tied up between them.

“Hey bro,” Morgan said as she tied up another bundle, looking up to see his basket full of harvested wheat. “Just dump it on the pile there; we’ll get to it soon enough.”

“All right,” Arthur said as he did so. “Looks like you two have been working really fast with this job.”

“Yeah, well I like to make up for lost time,” Morgan said casually as she grasped another bunch of wheat from the pile in one hand, and some twine in the other to start tying it up.

“You’re being careful not to overexert yourself, right?”

“Oh come off it, Arthur, I feel perfectly fine!”

“Sorry, but you can’t blame me for worrying. You were dying a few hours ago.”

“And now I’m not. You’ve done more than enough for me today.”

Before Arthur could so much as open his mouth in protest, their mother told him, “It’s alright Arthur, you don’t need to worry,” as she tied another bundle herself. “I’ll be right here keeping an eye on your sister in case she exhausts herself.”

It was then that Melion drove up in a horse and cart from the direction of the barn for another trip back, the bed of the cart bare of wheat except for a few loose straws from the last few trips.

“A’right ladies,” Melion announced as he brought the horse and cart to a full stop next to the three. “Just pile ‘em on there!”

“Why even bother with the horses?” Morgan joked as she threw another bundle of wheat onto Melion’s cart. “Why not just wolf out and pull it yourself?”

“That’s cute,” Melion scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Just keep pilin’ ‘em on there.”

“Oh, you’re no fun,” Morgan pouted as she kept throwing more tied wheat onto the cart.

Turning his head towards Arthur, Melion grumbled, “Ye know this be all yer fault, Arty.

“So it would seem,” Arthur chuckled as he picked his basket back up and headed back into the field to return to harvesting.

But even as he returned to cutting the magically regrown wheat from the soil like clockwork as he had done every year past for as long as he could remember, Arthur could not help but bitterly reflect on the scant three months he had to spend with his family before the Winter Solstice. Before today, he had thought he would be working this farm for his whole life.

And now, he thought that even that would not be enough.