The Witch in the Forest - Part 1
He sniffed, rubbing at his hurt ankle. Tripping over that tree root had really hurt him. The foot was swelling now, throbbing like a drum, and he held back several tears as he tried and failed to stand up. He reached around in his backpack. Then he remembered. He'd already lost his water bottle. And he was feeling hungry. He had already eaten all the food he had on him, even the icky raisins in the gift bag that no one really wanted.
Stupid stupid stupid! Why did he have to separate from the group and have one of his friends cover for him? They must have already walked mile away from him. He looked at his phone. No signal. And he didn't know how to get out of these woods. Something about... following the sun? He tried to do so, but after a day or so of walking, he sat down. This wasn't going anywhere. He was in a forest in Sweden, but... which forest was it again? Ah, heck, this wasn't going to help him. He had no idea where he was in this forest. And even if he did, he didn't have a map or landmarks.
Why did he... oh yes. His mother. With her new boyfriend. He didn't want a new father. He didn't want a new person to get into his house. He and mom got along fine. He didn't want new siblings. He didn't want to move. And he didn't want to share.
That's why he wanted to stay here. He always liked through the forest with his mother. The silence. The leaves. The rare birdsong echoing past the branches. The silent chill of the wind hitting his cheeks.
He shivered now. The woods here weren't like the woods back home. He didn't have anyone with him. His house wasn't a short walk away. There were no trails and no signs he could use here. There was no abandoned house he could play in, nor any way he could call anyone.
He forced himself to move up, ignoring the searing pain his ankle gave him. He had to move. He had to move or die.
~
He was going to die.
He clutched his stomach, and the leftovers that were still in his stomach came out in a flood, the acid scorching his mouth and bringing tears to his eyes. What was that about having to make sure that the water you were drinking from was clean? The water looked clear, but there must have been something in it. Or else he wouldn't be like this.
He felt something rumbling in his tummy. He took off his pants and squatted. No, he wasn't going to go out like this. He was going to die with all the dignity he could get.
A day later, and much further from the river that cursed him, he decided that dignity could wait. There was nothing to come out from either end anyway. His throat was parched, with every breath making his mouth feel like cotton and sending pinpricks of pain through his neck. His eyes had long since run out of tears, and his vision turned blurry. He lay there on the forest floor, nearly flat on his face, too tired to even turned around and sit up.
The cold winds bit into him, like knives cutting at his face. They must be looking for him now. They had to. Nevermind the fact that they probably didn't know where he was, or that it would take some time before they realized that he was missing. Or that it would take time for them to even set out to search for him. Or that they might not find him in time.
He looked up, straining his neck as much as he could. Here, he could see the stars.
Then darkness claimed him.
~
"Wow, a kid! I wonder what he's doing here?"
"Woah, feverish as hell. Lips parched. Must have drunk some bad water somewhere."
"Yep. Broken ankle."
"Wonder why he's even here?"
~
He awoke to the sound of something… delicious. He sat up. He was in some kind of cloth sleeping bag, with a blanket over him, in some kind of tent. He moved, noting that for the first time in what seemed to be forever, his stomach no longer hurt, and he didn't feel like vomiting. The pain in his stomach was now replaced by the old and cheerful sound of growling. He sniffed. The smell… It was coming from outside.
He moved the tent flap. A girl was sitting there, her back to him, squatting in front of a small fire, stirring a pot of something. The smell was coming from that pot. The girl held the ladle, and held it up to her face, and took a sip. A sound of satisfaction came out, and she sprinkled something into the soup.
He took a small step forward, and stepped on something. There was a crack, and the girl turned and stood, smiling. Now that she had turned to face him, he could see her better. She was dressed in black, with white lace underneath, and something like a white apron on her skirt. Her hair was blonde, with a single braid reaching down in front of her shoulder. She was grinning at him. And as he looked at her, she put on a pointed hat.
"Yo!" she said, waving. "So, you're finally awake. Good thing. I thought you were going to die." She pointed to the thing in the pot. "Found a bunch of nice mushrooms, and added in some stuff. You wanna try them? You weren't in any state to eat last night, so I dragged you here."
He nodded, moving towards the pot. The girl gave him a spoon and a biscuit, and he began to eat. The soup had chunks of meat and mushrooms in it, along with a sprinkling of pepper, and he dipped the biscuit into it and ate it. It must have been his hunger, because this was one of the most delicious meals he had ever eaten. He barely paused to breath, and in five minutes, the soup disappeared from the pot.
"Thank you." He said, breathing a sigh of relief. He thought he was going to die. He looked at his rescuer. "Thank you."
"No problem." She said, with a cheerful smile. "So I'm sure that you were wondering what was happened. I found you, and seeing that you were probably shaking and burning up, you probably drank some bad water and got sick. I gave you some medicine and let you drink some of mine, so now you should probably be fine."
Experimentally, his thoughts went to his pants and he gingerly checked to see if there was any… stains on it. Nothing. Thank god, he wasn't going to embarrass himself in front of this girl. He hadn't had much experience with them, but he always thought they were weird or crazy. Not much point in talking to them.
"So… who are you? What's your name?" he asked. He fumbled through his memory, trying to remember what his mother had told him about being polite. His mother…. And father.
The girl's grin became even wider and she picked up a broom that he hadn't noticed. She struck a pose, and made a V sign. "My name is Marisa Kirisame…. The Number Two in Gensokyo! The Witch of the Magic Forest! And soon to be Magician!"
The girl was obviously crazy. But she had saved him. So he bit down a retort and tried to make sure his voice wasn't too sarcastic. He failed. "Witch? That's crazy. What do you do, grab mushrooms and make potions? Cast magic spells? Everyone knows that there is no such thing as magic." He crossed his arms and nodded to himself. He was always rational and reasonable, smarter than his friends. He always scoffed at old ghost stories. Everyone knew that there was no such thing as ghosts. Or witches. Or magic.
"Well, I'm afraid that not everyone knows that. For one thing, I don't!" The girl whirled about, and pointed her finger at a bunch of trees to the right. Her finger hung there for a moment, quivering… and then a beam of light exploded from her finger, and hit the trees. There was a boom, and things went flying. The only thing left of the trees was now a bunch of shattered, charred stumps. He watched as several of the branches and trunks flew away into the distance, forgetting to keep his jaw shut.
The girl grinned and turned around to him. "You believe me now?"
~
"I don't get it, though." He said. They were both sitting on a bunch of nearby logs. Marisa had helpfully blasted the trees down, and they were using them as impromptu benches. "You can do magic, but you call yourself a witch. But you don't look like one."
"I don't look like one?" said Marisa, pointing at herself. "I'm dressed in black, have a broom, and have a pointed hat. What else do you want?"
He drummed his fingers, thinking of the stories he had read before. "Well, witches are… they're supposed to be old! And smelly!" He didn't quite realize that Marisa's smile had suddenly disappeared. He would regret this later. "And they're supposed to be hunched over! And have a hooked nose! And have lots of warts and wrinkles and be ugly! And then they- Agh aghagh!" he shouted in pain, moving his hands up to protect himself from a broom that was suddenly whacking him on the head. "What's that for?"
"Lies! Lies and slander!" Marisa was shouting now. "Witches are supposed to be ugly and have warts! And smelly? Who the hell says that? Take that back now!" and she started to hit him again.
"Ok ok ok! I'm sorry! You're beautiful and pretty ok?" he said. The broom stopped, and after one final whack, it disappeared. He peered out, and looked back at Marisa. The blonde was sitting on the log, arms crossed, frowning, the deadly implement next to her.
"You serious?" she said.
"Serious about what?" he asked.
"About me being pretty."
"Yes. Please don't hit me again."
"Ok." She said, as if she hadn't been hitting him five seconds earlier. "So how's the leg?" she pointed downwards.
He looked downwards. He hadn't noticed, what with the new events he was dealing with. His ankle was no longer hurting, and instead, was locked into a splint with several sticks and pieces of twine. He flexed it, and a jab of pain shot up his leg, making him flinch. Marisa must have seen it, because she sighed.
"You broke it. I did my best to fix it, but you really need to get it fixed. What were you doing here anyway?"
"I was-" he thought what to say first. "I got lost. I wanted to explore the woods. Then I hurt my foot, and then realized I didn't know how to get out. I drank some water, and then I got sick."
Marisa nodded, leaning back against a trunk. "Well, thought so. It's really far from any village here, so I was wondering why a kid was doing in the forest. For a moment, I thought-" she paused.
"Hey, I'm not a kid!" he said. "Besides, you're not much older than me anyway!"
"Oh really? How old are you? And who are you?"
He puffed out his chest and raised his shoulders, making himself look as big as possible. "I'm Neil Smith! I'm twelve years old this year! And I'm already a grown up!"
Marisa simply smiled. This irritated him somewhat. Like she wasn't taking him seriously or something. "Well, I'm fifteen years today. So I'm already older than you. Besides, I can take care of myself. So that means that I'm already an adult."
"That's that's…." he tried to think of a counter to that, but he couldn't. After all, he was the one who had collapsed on the forest floor after drinking dirty water and had to be found and rescued. "Well, I'm… I'm…. I'm going to be all grown up soon anyway! Mom says so!"
"Speaking of mothers…." Began Marisa. "What were you doing there, anyway? You said you were lost, but that lost? You must have the skill of getting lost, because it'll take a day for me to travel the distance to the nearest city. And you were walking."
He ignored how she said she could fly. "Well, that's because, well…. I wanted to be alone. So I sneaked off from the group."
Marisa simply shrugged. "Well, you're not the dumbest person in the world, but you certainly rank somewhere at the top. So you got sick. And you made it out alive. You wanna hop on the broom and get to town? I'm sure that your parents are worried about you."
The mention of his parents reminded him of just why he had decided to start trekking through the forest without preparation or planning. Something must have shown on his face, because Marisa's expression became a bit softer.
"You don't want to go home for some reason, don't you?"
He nodded.
"Well, that's alright!" she said grinning. "I don't want to, either! You're just staying for a few days, right?"
"Urm… yeah!" he lied. Actually, now that he thought about it, running away from home wasn't such a good idea after all. "Just for a few days. When my leg feels better. Then I'll get back."