Afternoon the next day, Morticia sat at her desk in her bedroom, marinating in her thoughts. She slept through breakfast, and when her mother came to check on her she left a pot of henbane tea with a cup on her nightstand, along with a plate of toast and tadpole jelly. Hester figured she may be feeling under the weather from splashing around in the freezing creek with her sister the evening before. Ophelia had stopped pressing Morticia for details about the party as soon as Morticia assured her that she had not been hurt by anyone. After all, Ophelia's mind was far too intoxicated with the memory of her first cheek kiss, and all the dancing she had done with fascinating strangers. She could be heard singing like a wren all throughout the cottage since 9 AM.

She sipped the scolding tea and inhaled the fragrance from the burning candles, and observed her treasured belongings on her desk. A cup of several different feathers she collected over the years. Her bundle of black sage and collected moss (andreaeopsida, her favorite). Several crystals, rocks and gemstones displayed randomly. She picked up the moonstone and twisted it in her fingers, figuring a crystal healing might be exactly what she needed. Her raven-feather ink pen and journal, that sat open with her jottings from the last time she delved into one of her studies on carnivorous plants and their needs for survival - she wanted one so badly. A dead Polyphemus moth she found one day, but still wasn't sure what to do with. The skull of a red wolf, gifted to her by her uncle, and a crystal vase of thorns in need of desperate trimming. On the corner of the desk were her current readings, bookmarked with pressed mugwort: The Craft of Apparition and Disapparition, and War and Peace; she was dying to find out what Natalie Rostova would do about Anatol Kuragin, and hoping Sonya would interfere.

Just then, looking at her desk rebirthed the image of her hips being forced into a desk by hard hands and wet lips on her neck. That delicious and unbearable feeling welled up in her again, along with the image of his face in her mind for the millionth time that day. She knew it was time to unbox everything that happened last night, since forgetting it was out of the question. She put down the moonstone and teacup and sat far back in her chair with her hands locked together on her stomach. What the hell had gotten into her? She was always deemed the more controlled and collected of her and her sister, and last night, the roles had completely reversed. She used magic. She was tense. She cried half the time.

She noted the moon chart taped to her wall and took the full moon into consideration; her abilities and natural femininity was always at its highest when the moon was full, and accidental magic was more likely to happen. But shattering every window in the ballroom?... No matter, she shrugged. They deserved the scare. It's what they expected from the Witch of Willow, after all. The moon was now in waning gibbous, and she was fatigued. As for her emotions, discovering the folktale of the infamous Witch of Willow Peak was not an easy thing to behold. Even if it was all in good fun, it was unexpected, offensive, and plain distasteful. The Witch of Willow... that reminded her that she had a lot more to discover. Why are we here, why are we hidden? Why aren't we free to roam amongst the normal like our uncle? She thought of the newspaper clipping folded in the sleeve of her torn dress that hung in her wardrobe... Who is their mother, really? What were her secrets?

And finally, him. Dear God, if the stars in the sky had all meshed together as one, she was sure it would result into him. The way he looked, the way he spoke, the way he touched her, comforted her, kissed her... and the alcohol certainly didn't help to diminish the detonation between them. She had finally crossed paths again with her personal obsession, and in two hours it erupted into a volcano of savage lust and chaos. To sum it up, rationally: what the fuck.

She reached under her desk and ripped her sketch journal free of the tape that held it in place - her solution to keep it from Ophelia's prying hands. She opened it to the very first page, and there he was. Ten years younger, of course. The first thing she drew after being gifted the journal on her twelfth birthday. She turned page after page, and there was his young face in all different angles. She finally found a blank page and set the journal on the desk, exhaling, loudly. She had read romantic novels, finding them enticing, and perhaps even pictured herself as the women in those erotic situations as she grew older. But she never dreamed of anything like last night, and with him, no less. It all came so naturally. Animalistic, even. It was all she could think about, and she thought about it in depth. What would have happened if they weren't interrupted? It gnawed at her stomach like a badger on a rabbit. Why did she flee? She knew that half the reason why she cried in her sister's arms that evening was because she left him so soon, and didn't understand why. She could only chock it up to what her sister had said; "It was just a little too much". But it was unfair to him. It seemed like a disservice to herself, as well. She longed for him, desperately. She wanted to see him now, to tell him all of this. What's even more depressing is she knew he would completely understand.

She took her ink pen and sat up straight, leaning over the desk and began sketching his face just the way he was, last night. His smile, his skin, his eyes... and the way they looked at her after she spoke French. She figured if she ever saw him again, she would speak nothing but French.

A knock at her window made her jump, sending the pen from her hand to the floor. She looked over to see her uncle waving and smiling, in his never-failing jolly manor. She moved from her desk and unlatched the window, lifting it open.

"If you needed to collect any bone, now's the time. Decomposing elk is laying on the far side of the mountain, and I'm going now before the vultures begin to circle."

"Brilliant."

Morticia closed the window and made her way to the wardrobe for her boots. There wasn't a more perfect distraction she could have asked for than foraging with her uncle. She took her crocheted pouch and left the cottage to join Fester outside.

"Where have you been all morning, you little hermit?" He eyed her up and down as they walked together into the trees, the fallen leaves crunching under their feet.

"Accidentally slept in. The moon is in waning, you know."

"I know. I just thought you might've been all tuckered out from your little excursion, last night."

Morticia stopped and stared at her uncle with the widest eyes he had ever seen on his niece. Her stomach sunk. He couldn't help but laugh.

"You know?"

"Of course I do, I'm your uncle. Plus, I saw you two fly in from the window when I was up making my 3 AM sandwich. And don't worry," he took her arm in his and they continued through the forest, "your mother doesn't know. The reason you're alive right now is because your mother doesn't know." He chuckled, again. "You girls need to learn some apparition."

"But you can only apparate to places you've been before..."

"Precisely why you should learn it, now. You've been somewhere. Come on, you think I gave you a crystal ball with no intention of stirring some mischief in ya? So, how was it?"

Morticia pondered, uninterested in rehashing everything she had just processed. "Different."

Fester nodded. He knew his youngest niece was not one to overshare, or even share at all.

"I'll leave you to your secrets, then. As long as you're careful. And Ophelia?"

"Behaved beautifully."

"Now that is different."

He let go of her arm as they crossed a log over a flowing stream.

"Fester... I know you know, why is mother so set on keeping us hidden? Even asking her to let us wander the town is just unheard of. But it's clear you're not as concerned for us as she is."

"Because I know you gals, you're smart. Capable." He scraped a stripeless scorpion from off a tree and took a bite out of its tail. The creature writhed in his fingers. He spoke with his mouth full, "As for your mother... she has her reasons. And I may not agree with them, but they're also not my place to discuss with you. You should talk to her."

Morticia nodded, a little disappointed. Of course this is the one time her gossip of an uncle decided to be loyal.

"But I will say, I don't like how she's conditioned you gals to not take your ages into consideration. You're adults. With that comes freedom. You should have the opportunity to go out and find gals just like ya. Form bigger covens."

A coven. Morticia smiled. A coven had always been one of her biggest aspirations. A support system, a larger sisterhood of women just like her, creating and healing, together. It was difficult to fathom that there were more of her, but she believed it.

"Thank you, Uncle Fester. I'll talk to her. What would I ever do without you?"

"You'd be even more pathetic."

Fester wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. Just then, they came to a clearing, and Fester pointed to a large boulder where the skeletal remains of a large elk laid in the grass. They made their way over, and Morticia knelt down beside the ribcage.

"Hardly any meat left. Seems like the vultures already had their feast."

"Early bird gets the intestines."

Morticia nodded and reached into her pouch and took out a pair of gloves and slipped them on. She stopped when she saw her uncle tearing the jawbone loose.

"But I needed the jawbone..."

"I saw it, first."

She rolled her eyes and began tugging at a rib, instead. Hearing a rhythmic sound of footsteps and chirpy humming told her that Ophelia had joined them.

"Oh, what a pity... poor thing." Ophelia pouted and walked over to a patch of Queen Anne's Lace and picked several. She then went to the elk and placed the flowers on the skeleton, strategically. She knelt down beside Morticia and began braiding a few of the flowers in her ebony hair. She sang, quietly;

Why so dull and mute, young sinner?
Prithee, why so mute?
Will, when speaking well can't win her,
Saying nothing do't?

She took Morticia's face, "Prithee... why so mute?"

Morticia waved an antler in front of her face, making Ophelia flinch. "We were having such a serene moment before this, Ophelia..."

"I always knew how to liven things up."

Morticia shook her head and placed her collected items in her pouch. "These antlers aren't even fully grown. With some purple basil, won't they make a lovely headpiece?"

"If you say so. But I already made you a most magnificent crown, see?" She tugged at the white flowers in her hair. Morticia stared, unenthused.

"They smell."

"Welp," Fester slapped his knee and stood. "I got what I came for. I'm starved. I'll see you gals back at home." Before making his way, he reached into his pouch and took out a 40 watt incandescent lightbulb. "Getting kinda dark." He popped the lightbulb in his mouth and made his way back through the trees, the soft buzz of electric waves fading away as he went.

"So," Ophelia turned back to her sister, her smile wide and impish, "I read your tarot this morning, oh, mysterious one."

"Without me present? Riveting results, I'm sure."

"Oh, they are."

The sound of large, flapping wings made Ophelia scream as a vulture landed beside the girls, searching the elk for its evening meal. Ophelia put her hand on her chest, calming herself.

"You're late," Morticia said to the bird. "But there's some left on the buttocks."

They watched as the bird ripped and teared at the meat. He emerged, gnawing his food with his blood stained beak. Morticia smiled at the creature.

"So valiant, very handsome. Bye, now." She slung her pouch on her shoulder and stood with her sister. Ophelia took her hand and walked with her through the trees, keeping close for even the smallest hint of warmth as the cool wind picked up. The sky had been hidden behind clouds all day.

"I did two readings, actually, one for both of us. We were both granted the card of Death for our future, isn't that promising?"

"Was it upright?"

"Yes, Morticia, they were all upright." Ophelia exhaled, annoyed. "Breaking cycles, changes, metamorphosis - I've been saying we're in due time for a metamorphosis, haven't I?"

"Alright, alright. So what was your present card?"

Ophelia looked away. She mumbled, "The Fool."

Morticia snickered and Ophelia swatted her arm.

"Stop it, you know I always get The Fool. It means I'm a free spirit." She tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"It also means recklessness, if reversed."

"Well it wasn't."

"I'm teasing, Ophelia, I'm teasing. Continue."

"Well, your past was Strength. And mine was the Hermit."

Morticia nodded, reflecting for a moment. "And my present card?"

Ophelia stepped in front of Morticia, making her stop in her tracks. The impish smiled had returned, again.

"The Lovers."

Morticia stiffened. Her lip fell slightly before she quickly closed her mouth. "Interesting."

"I'd say so... So. When are we sneaking out so you can see them, again?"

"See who again?"

"The person you drunkenly fornicated with."

Ophelia turned on one heel and skipped forward, leaving a stunned Morticia standing behind. Morticia raised a flexed hand and Ophelia glided backwards on her heels as though she were on ice. She was giggling, madly. Morticia stopped her with the grip of her arm.

"That is not what happened!"

"You sure? Torn dress, strong breath, hormonal collapse? It makes sense to me."

"Florals in Autumn make sense to you. Do not repeat that again, Ophelia. It didn't happen."

"Promise?"

"Yes!"

"Good. Because when it does happen, I should be the first to know." She smiled and pulled her arm from her sister's grip. "I don't know why I expected such of you, anyway. You're incapable of such carelessness."

Morticia felt a twinge from her words. The conversation was quickly forgotten when the girls both watched a tiny speck of white slowly fall between them, then dissolve on the ground on top a brown leaf. They looked around in awe at the several snowflakes joining in the same descending dance. Ophelia gasped in amazement.

"Snowfall? This early in the season?" She held out her hand and watched the flakes land into tiny pools on her palm. "This week is nothing short of enchanting... I must retrieve my lyre!"

She laughed and glided off through the woods, leaving Morticia gazing up at the sky. Snow had always filled her with a sense of calmness, and stillness. And when it blanketed the mountain to disguise the usual surroundings, she would often pretend she were in another world. As more snow began to fall, she made her way in the opposite direction of home, determined to take full advantage of the sky's gift. She took off Ophelia's flower crown, and it tried to take strands of her own hair with it as she did so. She dropped it behind her, watching squirrels skitter up trees and lizards duck behind rocks as she walked by. When she came to a ledge on the mountain, she stood on the clearing and looked upon the small town in the distance. Cars looked like strange fireflies all soaring in a row with their headlights beaming through the white fog.

She imagined what the snow would look like behind the window of his tower room, where the warmth of his home around her would contrast comfortably with the freezing whirlwind she watched outside. And he would be behind her, his body, his scent, his mouth, all for her taking if she so pleased. It was almost as if his scent was near, this very moment.

...

He watched her from behind the evergreen, not blinking or breathing.

After she left so abruptly last night, he had no doubt in his mind he would be climbing the peak, immediately. After he escaped the mob of guests at the party, he ran outside and for about a mile down the road, calling her name and scanning the sky. The only thing holding him together was his awareness of where she was going. Still, that didn't keep him from not sleeping a wink and staring into his telescope the rest of the night, while Argus and Nate pounded at the tower door, threatening to kick it down. From the window, he watched guests slowly pour out of the house and into their cars as the sun came up, and knew there had to be talk of their ill-mannered host. Even Mama paid a visit to the tower door to question his behavior, to which he responded until she gave up;

"It's nothing."

Argus apologized for interrupting Gomez and the "black-haired girl at the party" - Argus had since forgotten her name. Nate even offered to let Gomez throw knives at him while strapped to the Catherine Wheel, which he hated and only ever did by force of hand by his boisterous friends. By 8 AM, they had given up and left their troubled friend alone to his confinement.

He paced and contemplated all morning about giving her a day, or a week at the most, before setting off to find her, again. But the stabbing need for her was so painful that by noon he found himself in his bedroom, packing a bag. He wasn't sure what he would do or say for her, all he knew was that he needed her in his eyes. He strode past Lurch in the main room, who had been cleaning the aftermath of the party since he awoke that morning, and left the house. He didn't take the car as to not alarm anyone, and figured instead to let them discover his absence hours from now. The walk all the way through town would be enough to sort out what he was going to say to her, he decided. And then there was the hike up the mountain, and the possibility that he wouldn't even find her. He'd hike to the top everyday, if that were the case. Hell, he'd pitch a tent.

But he never thought it would be this simple. A few more minutes from the top, and she emerged from the dark only ten feet above him, on a small cliff. He ducked behind the tree so fast, he was certain that she heard the sliding of his shoes on the rocky ground. But he seemed to go unnoticed. She looked as if she were observing the kingdom she ruled from a parapet. He thought he should be shouting, calling her name, drawing her attention - it's why he came here. But instead he hid, speechless and cowardly, and stalked her.

Still and statuesque, bathed in black as the glittering snow fell all around her. The ends of her hair waltzed behind her with the wind. This was the myth no one and everyone believed in, and she was far more fearsome than they imagined.

...

"Morticia."

Morticia turned from the view to see her mother approaching from behind. She forced a dim smile but it didn't last long, as thoughts and questions crept into her head, once again. She made her way back into the trees to meet her halfway.

"There you are, are you alright?" Her mother had on a black cloak and hood, the tail of it trailed behind her as she walked. "I haven't seen you since I found you still asleep, this morning. I've been worried."

"Yes, I'm alright."

Hester touched her daughter's forehead, still not quite convinced. "Just feeling a bit under, I suppose?"

Morticia didn't answer, and Hester noticed her distance. She put her hands together and hesitated to speak again.

"Well... I came to tell you dinner is ready, and tomorrow, we're going to spend the day in the caves for Fester's last day before he leaves us, again. I had hoped you'd be feeling well enough to join. We are running low on bat wings, after all..."

"I'll let you know."

Taken aback, Hester nodded and pulled her eyes from her daughter's. She had no idea what she might have said or done to deserve such shortness, but disdain from her youngest wasn't as easy to endure as Ophelia's. It was seldom and unexpected.

"... Alright, then. Hopefully I will see you at dinner."

Hester turned, and Morticia could feel all of her questions burning the tip of her tongue. She almost lurched forward when one unanticipated question broke through the surface of her subconscious and leaped out of her mouth,

"Who was our father?"

Hester stopped. She turned around with a panicked look in her eyes that Morticia was all too used to.

"...Where is this coming from?"

"We act as though you made us yourself, but there must have been a man, yes?"

"Morticia, what in devil's name-"

"Is he why you've hidden us up here?"

Hester stepped back, overwhelmed and unprepared. She opened and closed her mouth in an almost stroke-like manor. "I... You know why I protect you-"

"There hasn't been a witch executed for 150 years, mother, so what is it really? Something you witnessed? A threat?"

"I'm not discussing this now, Morticia." Hester turned and began marching back toward home. Morticia chased behind her in her temperament.

"When are we discussing this then?"

"You better tell me if you're coming tomorrow so I can pack you a lunch-"

"Mother, you're keeping things from us!"

"Are you coming to the caves with us or not?!"

"No!"

"Fine."

Hester took the corner of her cloak and whisked it around herself, apparating into thin air. Morticia burned with fury. Fury at her mother's stubbornness, fury at the anxiety she was taught, fury at being treated like less of an adult than ever before. Fury at her life, her loneliness.

She took her pouch off her shoulder and hurled it at the ground, yelling in frustration. The bones and contents of the bag clanked and scattered about. She pulled up the skirt of her dress and ran deeper into the woods, and downward on the mountain. She imagined large, extending hands reaching from the cottage and grasping for her, which made her run faster and use all she had not to release a scream that lodged itself in her throat. Snowflakes felt as though they were penetrating the skin on her face, but the cool wind flowing through her felt new and refreshing. She wanted to run until she found herself on the porch step of the Addams mansion.

She skidded to a halt when she noticed a couple of wolves in the distance, and they noticed her as well. They stared in acknowledgment, and continued their journey together. Catching her breath, Morticia heard the sound of running water and followed it further until she found herself at the base of the falls. The pool of ice cold mountain water had steam rising off its surface, and it was surrounded by tall grass and rock. She reached down and unlaced her boots, taking them off along with her stockings.

Very well. I'll be the Witch of Willow, Morticia thought as she reached behind herself, pulling her zipper down her back. If anyone is to come looking, here I am. Naked. Rotten. Just as you want me to be. She slipped the dress off of her shoulders and let it fall to her feet. She stepped out of it and kicked it to the side. Come take your picture.

She walked to the water and carefully dipped one foot in - it was glacial. Slowly, she entered the pool. The stabbing coldness reached her knees, her thighs, her hips, until she held her breath and went under. Her body floated and danced gracefully under the water, her hair levitating around her like she were a siren. She broke through the surface and gasped for air, which was slightly difficult due to the freezing temperature. She wiped her eyes and smiled, giggling at her feral behavior, but she felt incredibly rejuvenated. Wading the water with her arms, she looked at the forest before her. The trees were already frosty from the snow, and one great horned owl sat sleeping, peacefully, on a high branch. A buck and his fawn were making their way through when they suddenly stopped and fled back into the direction they came, as if startled by something. Alert, Morticia lowered back into the water, only her eyes sitting above the surface.

...

He knew he shouldn't be watching. It felt perverted, but in fairness, he wasn't expecting to come upon her standing bare in the distance. When he saw it, it was like entering a psychedelic trip and all he could do was stare with his mouth hanging and a ringing in his ears, while electric currents ran through his entire body. He was sure if he went to touch the water, he'd electrocute them both.

He was standing behind, yet, another tree, gazing in astonishment. She disappeared under the surface for a moment, and when she emerged he had a full view of her. He quickly looked down and moved his head behind the tree, silently scolding himself. If this went on much longer, he knew he would become unmanageable. He lifted his head at the sound of a snapping twig, and made eye contact with two deer. He held his breath, his wide eyes pleading for them to keep his presence a secret. Quickly, they ran off the opposite way and he exhaled with relief. When he mustered up the courage to peek from behind the tree once more, he was startled to see that she had vanished. The water was empty. He stepped out from behind the tree and took a few steps forward. Her dress and boots were gone, as well. He began to think it really was some sort of dream, a cruel hallucination brought on by no food or sleep, and his vicious longing for her. Devastated, he turned around and almost fainted from fright.

She stood there, staring. Ten steps away from him, her wet hair blowing in front of her face. Parted lips and a look of hunger in her eyes, and he had no clue that he mirrored the same expression. He took a step forward, which sent her into a full sprint. He met her halfway and they took each other in a frantic embrace, holding onto each other as if the mountain would cave under their feet. She moaned a sound of sheer elation while he held her so tightly, her feet weren't even touching the ground.

"My God..." He laughed, relieved by her unexpected reaction. His exhilarated heart pounded at her willingness to be held by him. It was all he asked for. He planted kiss after kiss on her damp hair, from the top of her head to the side, to her temples and cheeks. He looked at her, caressing her tiny head in his hands. She was breathless, her cheeks glowing from the cold. But the look on her face was so joyful, and the love pouring from her irises made him want to shout until his lungs collapsed. He took off his wool trench coat and wrapped it around her. He held her close and rested his chin on the top of her head, feeling whole for the first time in his short life.

"The scent of cigars surrounded me from a yard away..."

"Morticia-"

"Gomez, I am so sorry for leaving you so quickly!"

He met her face with a look of surprise. He suddenly couldn't remember all that he had planned to tell her.

"It was all new to me," she spoke quickly, as if she were going to lose him, again. "And I never expected to find you again or feel all the things that I felt, especially after a day, but I do. And I can't force that down and bury it with all of my other desires."

He pressed the sides of her face, fully speechless. She put her hands on his.

"I want to bring you into my world. I want to show you everything you were told wasn't real - witches, dragons, magic, I will show you everything. And I want to trust you with it."

"I'll spend my whole life earning your trust."

She kissed him, pushing him into the tree behind him. He caressed her lips with his, savoring that sweet flavor of cinnamon and henbane that resided on his tongue since he kissed her, last. He tore his mouth from hers before succumbing to his need to devour her.

"But I won't wait another ten years..." he breathed. She laughed and took his face in her hands, gazing into the sparkling eyes that saw her, completely. They pressed their foreheads together, melting as one despite the ice all around them.

"No, no you won't..."

"Don't vanish from me, again. You've bewitched me."

"Mon cher..."