Chapter One

Morwen bolted down the path away from the house, hoping the other girls wouldn't find her. Why did they have to be so cruel? She didn't know how to fight back against them, and what was the point of learning to be a witch if she couldn't even keep a couple of bullies from taunting her?

Their awful, ugly voices rang in her ears as if they were standing before her, humiliating her as they done that morning:

"Morwen, Morwen, so ugly and red

Morwen, Morwen, her mama is dead

Morwen, Morwen, nobody likes her

Morwen, Morwen, Now, look; she's fled."

And the worst part was, every bit of the rhyme was true, Morwen couldn't help thinking as she brushed tears from her cheeks. She didn't even have parents to tell her that everything would be all right; she had to live with Mistress Piroska, the witch who taught them magic in her little dame school, the only one in Toure-on-Marsh.

Mistress Piroska treated her well enough, but sometimes Morwen wanted more than a simple, "Thank you, Morwen," whenever she finished her chores or brought a cup of tea to the older witch.

It wasn't fair, she thought, kicking at a rock. Other children had parents to hug them and tuck them in at night and say, "Well done," when they learned a new spell. But not Morwen.

She supposed she should be grateful to Mistress Piroska. Not many people would have plucked a homeless five-year-old orphan off the streets and given her an education. Morwen was old enough to realize that she probably would have starved if Mistress Piroska hadn't taken her in. So, put that way, living with a witch and going to magic school wasn't so bad.

Sometimes it was hard to remember that. Like today. Morwen wasn't sure why the other girls had decided to pick on her, but that didn't make their ugly little rhymes any easier to bear. She was neither the smartest girl in the school nor the stupidest; she was polite to everyone; and Piroska didn't treat her as a favorite to the exclusion of the others.

But she was an orphan, and poor, and the only one with red hair, and that was enough for some people. Like that nasty Celia and her cronies, who had taken it upon themselves to make Morwen's life a torment for the last few months.

Perhaps it was lucky that none of them knew enough magic to harm each other. Morwen was very conscious of the power a witch could harness, and she didn't want to lose control and blow them all to smithereens. Even Celia probably didn't deserve that; she was only a stupid little girl who'd been spoiled by her parents and sent to a school of magic because they wanted her to be special.

Morwen kicked at another rock and watched it spin off into the swamp with a loud plop! She badly wanted something to change.

But, what? She wasn't big enough to get in a fistfight with Celia- not unless she had at least one ally, and all of the other girls were too afraid for that. Ignoring the teasing would only make things worse, as would tattling to Mistress Piroska.

"I wish I was somewhere else," Morwen muttered to herself. "Anywhere but here."

It began as an idle thought, but it grew in her mind as she did her chores and got ready for bed that night. The world was a big place, and though she was only eleven years old, Morwen had always been independent for her age. She knew how to cook meals and start fires, how to make her own clothes and cast simple spells. She knew which plants were safe to eat and which animals would try to eat her.

Maybe she should put theory into practice, and take herself away from school. It wasn't as though anyone would miss her too much. Mistress Piroska might wonder where she'd gone, but certainly none of the other girls would care.

Morwen nodded to herself. She would leave and make her own way. Now she had to decide where to go.

Linderwall was the closest kingdom, to the north and east. But Morwen had heard it was rather boring there. Everyone looked the same, dressed the same, and would be amazed to find a witch among them.

She amused herself for a moment with the idea of traveling to the king's castle and placing a spell upon his daughters. There were seven of them, the youngest only a newborn, and Morwen liked the idea of laying a protective enchantment over a little baby, if only to save her from bullies.

If only she knew the right spells to cast. But that was a skill to be learned later, and Morwen needed a solution now.

She had nearly drifted off to sleep when she thought of the perfect place for a witch to live. The Enchanted Forest was to the west, over the Mountains of Morning. She'd often stood at her window and gazed at the high peaks, imagining what was on the other side.

Now she would find out for herself.

oOoOo

A/N: Yes, I know it's short. But, don't worry; I won't leave you hanging!