Lexa and her clan had immigrated to the colonies, along with many hopeful immigrants of the 18th Century to escape King George's tyranny. They spent years cultivating fields of maize and beans in the wooded land of New Jersey. When the great revolution sparked, her family struggled, as all the men answered Washington's call to battle, leaving Lexa to provide for the children of feeble elderly of her clan. It was said that many women turned to wearing red dresses during the war to provide for themselves, but Lexa did so by turning to hunting. The game she brought home gave her relatives much strength, as they began to use bones and marrow in their stews and drying pieces of meat to jerky. The pelts from the animals served as adequate preparation for the winter, but that still did not answer the problem of lack of farm hands.

Lexa tried to involve the children into tending to the crops, trying to make it feel like a game to them, but she did not want to exploit them, and only let them work for short periods of time. The fields began to wilt, and Lexa's heart was troubled at the loose of her family's agricultural legacy her in the Americas. It didn't help that she had received a letter from the militia that her father had been killed in battle, no word on her uncles and brothers. Without the revenue from the farm, she soon would not have enough money to continue paying for her land, and then the family would be homeless.

Falling to a brief moment of hopelessness, Lexa had taken a walk to the village tavern. There at the bar, she hunched over her pint of stale beer, focusing on the sounds of the fiddle and flute behind her.

"How's the farm, Ms. Alexandra?" asked the owner as he polished a mug. Titus was his name, and he always seemed overly concerned about her personal business.

"It's going how it was last week," Lexa grumbled, not bothering to look at him.

"Why don't you think about taking up a husband to save your land? The whole town knows there are a decent amount of men willing to be your suitor, despite your un-lady-like moments..."

Lexa scoffed, "How many times do I have to tell you? The farm will stay in my family's name and ownership. No one is taking my farm. Or any part of my land."

"But Ms. Lexa, your lands are wilting without the proper labor force. Surely a husband would be able to bring his family money into yours to help hire hands."

"I'll figure something out." Lexa grumbled once more, taking a deep swig of her bitter brew.

"Go see the witch," rasped the voice of the individual who sat beside her at the bar.

"Excuse me?" Lexa asked, her sour aura still taking hold of her.

It was a young man who had said the words, which surprised Lexa given his voice.

"The witch. Deep in the woods of Cedar Plains." He continued, pulling the lapels of his green coat closer to him, even though the tavern was quite warm. "A year ago, when I used to live in Boston, I was being blackmailed by my business partner who had found out that I was romantically involved with a colored woman. He said that if I did not always do all his share of work he would tell the governor of my 'sinful' relationship and have my love, Raven, hanged at the gallows. I traveled far down south to New Jersey to find the acclaimed witch, who I had learned of from another. I asked her to silence my business partner, so that I could save my sweetheart from our prejudiced down. And she did."

Lexa raised her eyebrow as she heard his story, listening to each croak his throat made.

"Do not bring such dark folklore into my establishment, Mr. Collins," Titus hissed.

"Why is your voice so weak?" Lexa asked, intrigued by her intuition.

The young Mr. Collins had turned more solemn than before, answering, "When it comes to witchcraft, there is always a catch. You must pay a witch in something she can use for her master-"

"Finn Collins!" Bellowed Titus, slamming the mug he was cleaning on the bar counter. "Do not bring such talk of the devil and his black works into this tavern! Get out, now!" The whole tavern went silent as all occupants watched the scene at the bar. Hesitantly, Finn got up from his seat, maintaining cautious eye-contact with Lexa, whose eyes had followed him leaving through the door.

"Don't let his talk disturb you, Ms. Lexa, he should have known better not to bring up such a topic to a lady," began Titus.

"Here's my copper," Lexa blurted, slamming the metallic coin on the wooden bar. She ran out the door, leaving Titus baffled and disappointed at his station.

As soon as she pushed the door open to allow herself outside, the crisp fall air rushed passed her face. She turned her head left and right, looking down the dirt roads of the quaint town for the figure of Finn Collins. The day was bleak and grey, but down the eastern path, Lexa could make out the hue of a green coat. She took down the road briskly, catching up with him in a matter of seconds.

"Mr. Collins," she said, a little breathy. "Please continue your story. Tell me about the witch. How do I pay her?"

Finn stopped in his tracks and shuffled his feet, as if second-guessing sharing this information. "She does not take gold. She never takes gold. You must go and find out what she will take from you."

"And what did she take from you?" Lexa asked.

"My voice…"

"She took your voice?" Lexa questioned with a chuckle of disbelief. Here she was, coming close to asking help from a witch, but couldn't completely believe in magic still.

"When I asked to silence my business partner, she had him killed. Horrifically. I almost regretted coming for her help. I would not have wished that kind of death on anybody… but with my payment… she had a sense of humor. She thought it was only fitting to literally silence me."

"And you speak today now because?"

"Because she must have known I was going to speak to you."

Lexa chuckled more. She felt like seeing this witch just out of curiosity now instead of needing help. "She knew?"

"Not about you specifically. I can't say. I am not allowed. You must see her. I have fulfilled my bargain. I am free of her…"

A feeling of ominousness bled into Lexa's soul. Finn was definitely building this witch up.

"Free?"

"Every soul she helps is a soul she owns, until they bring another to take their place…" he whispered.

"What?" Lexa continued her questioning barrage, not picking up a single word he had just muttered.

"Go see her. Cedar Plains. Just keep walking, you'll find her when you stop looking…" He turned away from Lexa and began to walk quickly down the road once more.

Lexa had gone home soon after that and dressed in her best hunter's outfit, a pistol and a pouch of power and one of bullets, a hatchet, and a knapsack of dried goods, including a canteen of water. She intended on making the trip to find the witch. If not for her crops, at least to satiate her curiosity. Mounting the best steed in the stables, a grey creature in his prime, she set off into the woods.

She galloped furiously into the wooded lands, seeing an endless sea of barren bark and twisted limbs of trees, dotted among a few evergreens. Soon her mind drifted off into memories of her family- more particularly her father and her uncles, taking their muskets and a carriage to sign up at the nearest military camp. They had left her in charge to tend the farm. They said they would only serve for a year. It had been three years ago today…

And then, in front of her, she saw a log cabin, which brought her pulling her horse's reins to a halting stop. She dismounted and tied her steed to one of the many nearby trees.

Cautiously, she approached the cabin.

"Hello?" she asked, as she pushed the heavy door open.

"Some people knock as well," came a voice that sent Lexa jumping in her boots. Looking around the cabin, which was heavily decorated with branches and bushels of herbs, animal tales, and miscellaneous cloths and chimes, Lexa saw a young blonde woman sitting at a table who was peeling an apple.

"My apologies," Lexa began, closing the door behind herself. "Are you the witch?"

The blonde sighed, putting her carving knife down. "Are you looking for a witch?" Her voice had a powerful energy to it, deep and serious.

"I was… I was told that there was a witch here who could help me…" Lexa didn't know why she was getting shy all of a sudden.

"And what do you need a witch's help for?"

"My crops, they are failing."

"Bad lands?"

"Lack of help."

"And you can't just hire workers?"

"I have little coin left since all the men folk in my clan joined the war."

"I see. Come, sit at my table, dear guest."

Lexa did so, pulling her chair incredibly close to the table.

"Would you like to stay for the evening?" The woman asked casually. "I was in the middle of carving apples for a pie I planned on baking tonight. Would you like to help?"

"No thank you," Lexa said quickly, yet immediately regretted her words. What if she just failed some test set by the witch? If she couldn't help her with something simple, why would she help Lexa. "I- I mean, if you need help, I will be more than happy to assist you."

The woman smirked as she picked up her knife once more. "You have already declined, I will not have you help. I can be what you need me to be, Ms…?"

"Lexa," Lexa introduced hastily.

The witch nodded, "My name is Clarke, but no one who asks for my services never bothers to call me anything but 'witch'. It would give me great pleasure if you would call me by my name…"

"Of course, Ms. Clarke. Thank you for letting me into your home."

"Well you did kind of just let yourself in… but please, just Clarke, as you will be just Lexa to me. But before I give you services, we must establish a sense of loyalty between each other."

"What do you need from me?" Lexa asked, anticipating this as the beginning of their payment negotiations. Clarke had decided to place down her knife and dried her hands with a cloth.

"Give me your hands," Clarke said, outstretching her arms across the table. Lexa clasped their hands together in reciprocation.

"Finn told me that you need things to use for your master," Lexa started curiously, "Do you have a master? Is he… is he-"

"The devil?" Clarke interrupted, her face twisting with offense, "Who is to say I'm not my own master?"

"Forgive me, I do not know much about your craft."

"Exactly, so keep it that way."

"I only wish to understand."

"You will only understand what I decide to share with you. We will determine what you must pay me soon, but first, before we start, you must understand a term I apply to all my clients. If you do not bring someone to my door, my master will kill you."

"I thought you said you were your own master?"

"Do not interrupt me. If I help you, you must help someone else. Tell someone of my works, bring them to my door. Have them need for my services." As Clarke spoke these words, Lexa immediately thought of Finn. It all made sense now how he spoke about freedom.

"You took Finn's voice away as payment for his contract. When he decided to tell me of you, you gave him his voice back… how did you know that he would talk to me?"

"I will not share the entirety of my power to you, Lexa, if you wish to know the secrets of my reach, you must become like me. Is this what you wish?"

"No," Lexa blurted.

"Tell me, Lexa," Clarke spoke with a routine air, her eyes closing as she continued to hold onto Lexa's hand. "What do you need me for?"

"I wish for a bountiful harvest this year, and for my crops to remain fruitful until my men return from the war."

"It shall be granted. Know that if all your men die in battle, you will be forever indebted to me, do you understand? Is this a price you wish to pay? Eternal harvest?"

Lexa hesitated at the last part, yet still replied, "Yes."

"By holding onto you, I have learned much about you, Lexa." Clarke's eyes were still closed as she spoke. "I have seen your childhood in England. I have seen your voyage across the sea to the Americas. Your adult life is studded with your grief of responsibility for the farm and your incapable family members. I can even see your lust for women-"

Lexa retreated her hands, feeling violated and defensive. Clarke opened her eyes at her hands being empty.

"What's the matter?" the witch asked with a smirk. "I didn't need magic to deduct that. You wear trousers."

"Trousers should not denote anything but utility, not … preference."

"I guess you have a point," Clarke smiled. "Why does it bother you that I have seen this in you? You have denied offers of marriage countlessly, I have seen this. You don't want a man, you want a woman."

"I can be hanged for such behaviors. People believe it is a sin." Lexa said defensively. "I do not wish any to know. I would rather die an old maid than marry."

Clarke leaned back in her seat, contemplating this.

"How bad do you want your crops to prosper?"

"Depends on the price. I do have a limit."

"I will bless your fields. The price I offer you is this: it would amuse me to instigate a 'sin'. Once a month, you must come to my cottage and give me a kiss, until your men return. It can be as simple as one on the cheek, if you wish."

"A kiss?" Lexa asked, cursing herself for blushing.

"You must understand, it gets lonely out here. Even a witch needs a kiss or two. It's been a while since I've been touched by a lover, and it's quite a shame, really."

Lexa felt herself getting warm with embarrassment.

"Do you accept my terms? A kiss every month until your men return, and to bring someone to my door."

"Is that it?"

"That's it," the witch smiled.

"I accept," Lexa said.

"Good," Clarke said, "Give me your first kiss…"

Lexa got up from her chair and excitedly made her way to Clarke, who was still lounging in her chair. Leaning down, the small cabin stark with silence, Lexa pressed her lips against the witch's tenderly, expressing nothing but appreciation through the kiss. As she pulled away, she saw Clarke's eyes open sheepishly. The two women gazed upon each other for a moment before a blush started to spread on the young witch's face.

"Go," Clarke said all of a sudden, shooing Lexa with her hands. "Go back to your farm, I will prepare a spell tonight, don't you worry. Just go to bed like normally tonight. Tomorrow, you will notice a change in your crops."

"Thank you," Lexa said, a smile taking over her entire mouth. She saw herself out of the cabin, freed her horse, and headed home.