Greetings everyone! With the season two finale of The Owl House wrapped up, I thought I'd take a whack at a Wittebane brothers story, as well as my take on Hunter's true origins, who is my favorite Owl House character and quite possibly Disney's most damaged character. Thank the Titan he didn't go down there to find the Collector with King and Kikimora, I don't think the poor guy can take much more.
Keep in mind, this isn't meant to be a very long story, but it'll be a fun write nonetheless!
Enjoy!
I do not own 'The Owl House'.
"There is no objective and universally acceptable definition of good and evil. And until we have one, we will go on justifying our own actions, while condemning the actions of others."
–Gregory David Roberts.
Chapter 1
When We First Met
(17th century Connecticut)
"All rise for the honorable Judge Haythan."
Everyone in the courtroom rose to their feet as Judge Haythan made his way to the stand. He was a short but stocky man, clean-shaven and scowling, age wrinkling his face. Dressed in his formal black robes and white wig, Judge Haythan took his seat at the judge's bench. The front of his stand bore the sigil of the town. A golden eagle, wings at either side, letting out an upward cry, placed in a golden column arc.
"Please be seated." said the Judge.
Everyone took their seat.
Judge Haythan cleared his throat and folded his hands, placing them professionally in front of him. "People of Gravesfield," he announced. "I thank you all for your participation in this court trial, be it mandatory or otherwise." The judge raised his chin. "Let us begin."
The accused shook with fear.
"Agatha Miller." Judge Haytham announced. "Please rise before the court."
Agatha, a young woman with mouse-brown hair and petite features, wearing a simple white dress, trembled as she stood up before everyone. The chains and cuffs that bound her hands and feet jingled as she stood.
"You have been charged with the crimes of practicing witchcraft and consorting with the Devil himself." the Judge stated. "How do you plead?"
"N-n-not guilty, your honor." Agatha stammered. "I am a God-fearing woman, I swear it."
"Three days ago, on May twelfth, several eyewitness accounts report you, Agatha Miller, lighting Allingham's barn on fire with the use of satanic rituals."
"But, your honor, I was not even in town that day," Agatha said. "My father and I were in the next town over, selling our pelts to the local merchants."
"She speaks the truth, your honor!" Agatha's father stood up from his seat. Mr. Miller was a tall and portly fellow, with a bald head and a beard the same color as Agatha's hair. The large man took a handkerchief out of his coat and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I took Agatha to Stamford! We sold our raccoon pelts to a local merchant! We even made a decent profit off of them! We were in Stamford the day Allingham's barn went aflame!"
"That's a lie!" Charles Allingham rose from his seat. One of the richer men in the area, the tall and thin mustached man had long limbs and dark blue eyes. His coat was made from a finer thread than many of the other men in the courtroom. "Your harlot daughter lit my barn on fire with her witchcraft!"
"Allingham, you snake!" Mr. Miller bellowed. "You just want to punish my daughter for discovering your daughter with that Hofferson boy! You're trying to brand my daughter as a witch so yours will not be branded as a whore!"
"Enough!" shouted Judge Haythan. "Let us now hear the testimony of the Witch Hunter General of Connecticut." the judge nodded his head to the man. "General Amadeus Belos. If you would."
"Thank you, your honor." General Belos stood from his seat. Tall and fit, standing proud and accomplished, the General looked like a prince well into his thirties. black hair hanging down to his shoulders, eyes as green as mint leaves, the clean-shaven man wore a black coat over his waistcoat and trousers.
Agatha shook with fear at the sight of the man who had taken her in and chained her up.
"Your honor, all the acquired evidence points to Agatha as the culprit." General Belos had a voice as strong and cold as iron. "The Millers have a long-lasting feud with the Allinghams, Agatha has been reported by several eyewitnesses of being at the Allingham barn the day of the fire,"
"All those eyewitnesses were bought by Allingham!" Mr. Miller shouted.
"Silence, Miller!" Judge Haythan shouted back. "Continue, General Belos."
"Your honor, everyone who knows Agatha describes her as an odd and strange girl," said General Belos.
"They do?" Agatha asked.
"There weren't any lanterns or lit fires anywhere near the barn the day it went aflame," Belos continued. "It was a very…unusual occurrence. My lieutenant here was the one who examined the remains of the barn after the fire. He can tell you about it if you'd like, your honor."
"Very well, then," said Judge Haythan. "Lieutenant Wittebane. If you would?"
Philip Wittebane stood before the court.
"Thank you, your honor." The young man was of average height with a healthy build. His ash-brown hair was kept in a ponytail and had a long, noticeable strand that stuck out from his bangs. Philip's face was clean-shaven like the General's was and his eyes were a grey-blue color. He wore a grey waistcoat over a navy-blue coat with a gold 'A' stitched over his left breast pocket and a pair of grey gloves. His trousers were brown and his buckled shoes were black.
"The fire was indeed caused by unnatural methods," said Philip. "And the fire was said to be something out of a nightmare, appearing satanic in origin. Even the smell of the remains was strange."
"Lamp oil can do that!" Mr. Miller cried. "There's nothing to prove that it was hellfire of any kind!"
"Your honor," said Philip. "We worship the Lord and deter all things that defy his greatness, in order to deliver mankind from evil forces. Agatha has been accused of witchcraft. The evidence supports the accusation, and now, we must ensure that the Devil's agents are all eradicated from our town."
General Belos gave Philip a proud smile.
"Agreed," said Judge Haythan. "Agatha Miller, for the practice of witchcraft and your crimes against the Lord and the people of Gravesfield, I sentence you to burn at the stake at sunrise."
Agatha gasped with utter terror.
"No!" Mr. Miller cried.
"Case dismissed," Judge Haytham raised his gavel.
The courtroom doors burst open. "Wait, your honor!"
Everyone turned their head to the now open doors.
"Oh, him again." General Belos groaned.
"Cutting it a little close this time, eh, brother?" Philip muttered.
He was a little taller and a little thinner than Philip, with shorter blonde hair instead of brown and ponytailed. He also had a hooked nose where Philip's nose was rounded and downward. But other than that, he looked identical to his brother. They even shared the same grey-blue eyes and that loose, noticeable strand of hair at the center of their bangs that hung over their forehead.
"Ah, Caleb Wittebane." Judge Haythan greeted flatly. "And here I was believing that I would be able to proceed with this one trial without having to hear the sound of your annoying voice as you rebuke everybody in this room."
"Pant…your honor…pant…I have…pant…proof…pant…that…pant…"
"Today would be nice, Mr. Wittebane." said the Judge.
"Give me a moment, your honor, I ran all the way here after my horse got spooked and galloped away at the watering hole." Caleb steadied his breathing and straightened his back. Underneath his silver-grey coat, he wore a white cotton shirt and pair of black trousers held up by suspenders. Brown gloves matched his brown boots. Caleb steadied his breathing and made his way to the bench, ignoring the annoyed and snide looks most of the people were giving him.
"Your honor, I have proof of Agatha Miller's innocence!" Caleb smiled as he made his announcement. Whenever he smiled, Caleb tried to make a habit of never showing any teeth. But he was too exhausted to repeat the habit though, and the gap in the center of his teeth showed. It was a comic feature that Caleb made an attempt to hide, as it was hard enough to get the townspeople to take him seriously.
"Connecticut's least successful attorney comes into my courtroom with proof that the good Witch Hunter General has wrongly brought in this woman for witchcraft?" Judge Haythan asked. "Again?"
"My career has been mostly unsuccessful, yes," Caleb admitted. "But I have proof! All the way from Stamford, I give you…this!" Caleb pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket.
"And what, pray tell, is that?" General Belos asked. "Your attempts to save the witches I bring in are often sad, Caleb, but this seems particularly pathetic."
"This is a written receipt, your honor," said Caleb, completely ignoring General Belos. "A document of transaction written by the merchant who bought the coon pelts from Mr. Miller. Fortunately, the merchant was fond of keeping records of his dealings."
Agatha and her father's eyes lit up with hope.
Caleb handed Judge Haythan the receipt and turned to face Agatha and her father. "Mr. Miller. Do you recall the name of the merchant you sold the pelts to?" Caleb asked.
"Oh, well, he said his name was Jonathan," said Mr. Miller. "I didn't get his full name, though."
"How many of your coon pelts did you sell to the merchant?" Caleb asked.
"Ten," said Mr. Miller. "Got a good deal for them. Four shillings for each pelt."
"And on what day did you make this transaction?" asked Caleb.
"May 12th, three days ago." Mr. Miller replied.
'The same day Allingham's barn caught fire." Caleb turned to the stand. "Your honor. Please read the receipt aloud, so the whole court may hear."
Judge Haythan narrowed his eyes at Caleb before reading the document out loud for the court. "Date: May 12. Location: Stamford, Connecticut. Item: Racoon pelt, 10. Cost: 4 shillings each. Patron: Josiah Miller. Signed, Jonathan Brien."
A collective murmur sounded throughout the courtroom. General Belos frowned at Caleb across the courtroom.
"That…that doesn't prove that Agatha didn't start the fire!" Allingham shouted. "You still haven't proved that Agatha was with her father in Stamford that day!"
"Agatha, could you describe the merchant to me, please?" Caleb asked. "The one your father sold the coon pelts to?"
Agatha gulped and blushed. "He was a very…peculiar man. He seemed very…" Agatha looked away. "Interested in me."
"Merchants who write receipts of their dealings will often write something on the back of the paper, to help jog the memory if the merchant has trouble recalling the exchange," said Caleb. "Your honor, if you would kindly read the back of the paper."
Judge Haythan raised an eyebrow at Caleb, then he flipped the paper over and read the writing on the back. "'His daughter's brown hair looked really soft'."
Agatha blushed even more, looking terribly embarrassed.
"The handwriting is the same as the signature." Caleb pointed out. "Proof that Agatha was indeed with her father at the time. If you would like, we can speak to her friends who saw her leave with her father three days ago. Not sure why that wasn't enough to begin with."
"This is an outrage!" Allingham shouted. "Your honor! This man–this boy, rather, barely into his second decade, is a joke of a lawyer! You cannot possibly take anything he has to say seriously!"
"And you cannot possibly deny the solid evidence," Caleb added. "It's all right there, your honor."
Judge Haythan growled at the young blonde man. "Caleb Wittebane, you consistently argue against the motives of the Witch Hunters and the honor upon which this God-loving town stands on. Your short career as a lawyer is laughably unsuccessful and mostly dedicated to defending the witches who are brought in for trial. I don't like you, I don't respect you. Hardly anyone in this town does. If the town Reverend were not so fond of you, for whatever reason, I would have had you hung a long time ago."
"Your honor, I am simply trying to save the life of an innocent woman," Caleb said. "She is innocent. Right, your honor?"
Judge Haythan narrowed his eyes at the document Caleb had brought in. "...Congratulations, Caleb Wittebane, you managed to win another case. Finally."
"What?!" Allingham cried. "But, your honor-"
"Agatha Miller, you have been proven not guilty and therefore, are free to go." Judge Haythan slammed his gavel. "Case dismissed. Get that girl out of those cuffs, and get this man out of my courtroom."
The Constable came up with the key and freed Agatha from her chains. As soon as she was free, Agatha ran up and embraced Caleb.
"Thank you, Caleb! Thank you!" the girl cried. "May God grant you everlasting happiness!"
Caleb's cheeks reddened slightly as the cute girl clung to him. "Just…doing my job, Miss Miller," he replied. "No need to give thanks."
"Yes, there is." Mr. Miller came up and placed a hand on Caleb's shoulder, a jovial smile on his face. "You saved my daughter's life. I am eternally grateful for that. If there is ever anything you need from me, my friend, you need only ask."
Caleb smiled and nodded. Agatha released him and beamed at Caleb. She planted an affectionate kiss on his cheek before leaving the courtroom with her father. Caleb blushed once more and brought a hand to his cheek.
"Ah, so that's why you do it."
Caleb turned around to see Witch Hunter General Belos approach him. The tall man's face betrayed faint amusement. Caleb furrowed his brow at the sight of the man.
"I've been wondering why you subject yourself to the constant ridicule and scorn of the townsfolk just to be a lawyer for witches." General Belos said. "But as it turns out, when you do actually manage to prove a woman innocent of witchcraft, they are very grateful for it. Need I remind you that fornication is a sin, Caleb?"
"No. The Reverend is my friend. I hear it often enough from him." said Caleb.
"Yes, your friendship with the Reverend is indeed the only thing keeping me from charging you with protecting and aiding witches and having you stoned to death myself." General Belos frowned. "Your continual defiance against the Witch Hunters will be the end of you, Caleb Wittebane. You mock us, you disrespect us, you defend witches."
"General Belos, I just proved that girl's innocence," Caleb said. "I love God and believe in the teachings of Jesus Christ, which is why I do not believe in killing innocent people."
"You proved Agatha's innocence today, yes. Well done." General Belos narrowed his eyes. "But I am the General of the Witch Hunters. You disrespect my profession with every witch you defend. Which is all of them, mind you."
"The women I have proven innocent is proof that your profession is flawed," said Caleb. "I shudder when I think of the number of other innocent lives you and your people have taken over the years. Killed by the most gruesome of methods. Drowning, burning, stoning, beheading, is that supposed to be God's work?"
General Belos sighed and shook his head. "You are such a disappointment," he said. "At least your brother shows promise."
"General." Philip came up to them.
"Ah, Philip." General Belos smiled and placed a hand on Philip's shoulder. "This is an apple that fell down right next to the tree. You should try to be more like your brother, Caleb. Maybe you wouldn't be a social outcast then. Who knows, your life might actually mean something."
"Sir. Could I have a word with my brother?" Philip asked.
"Of course. Perhaps you can talk some sense into him." General Belos shot Caleb one more disapproving glance before walking out of the courtroom.
Caleb and Philip just stared at each other for a minute, then the brothers smiled.
"Care to celebrate your success with a drink and a smoke?" Philip asked.
"That sounds perfect, little brother," Caleb replied.
Caleb's small house was a simple structure. Four beams held up the house's awning. Underneath that awning, there was a green door with a window on either side of it. A brick chimney was built into the side of the house. With white wooden walls and a brown pitched roof, it was a simple but humble home. The house was built away from the rest of the town, suiting everyone just fine, Caleb included.
Sitting on the wooden porch's steps with his brother, Caleb took a long inhale from his clay pipe. He held it in for a few seconds before blowing out a perfect smoke ring. "Beat that."
Philip inhaled from his pipe, but not as deeply, and he didn't hold it in for as long. He blew out a smoke ring, but it was nowhere near as perfect as Caleb's.
"Ha-ha-ha." Caleb ruffled his little brother's hair, much to Philip's irritation. "Nice try, little brother."
"Bah." Philip raised his bottle of cider. Caleb raised his own bottle.
"Cheers." The brothers clinked their bottles together and drank. Philip put his bottle down first. Caleb did after another couple of gulps.
"Ahhhhhh." Caleb smiled at the bottle. "Samuel might be a jackass, but the man knows how to brew a good cider."
Philip let out a long sigh. "...Caleb…you need to stop what you're doing."
"Stop what?" Caleb asked, knowing exactly what Philip was referring to. "Stop trying to save innocent lives?"
"You need to stop making enemies," Philip said seriously. "You're a lawyer who defends witches, Caleb."
"I defend those who have been accused of witchcraft." Caleb corrected.
"The whole town avoids you. The Constable gives you the evil eye every time he sees you. The only reason the Witch Hunters don't come for you is because the town Reverend is a friend of yours, thank God."
"I don't respect the Witch Hunters," Caleb said simply. "I love you, brother, but Amadeus Belos is a murderer who serves the highest bidder."
"No, Caleb. We hunt down and destroy the Devil's agents," Philip said defensively. "We destroy evil."
"Hmm," replied Caleb. "You love to tell yourself that, don't you?"
Philip pinched his brow and groaned. "Our father was the Witch Hunter General before Belos." he reminded his brother. "You and I are expected by the community to follow in his footsteps."
"Father was a cold and cruel bastard," Caleb said sourly. "Why you keep trying to be like him is beyond me."
The only thing I have ever respected or admired about father was his work." said Philip. "Amadeus is a far better General than father ever was. He does God's work by-"
"Torturing and murdering people is not God's work!" Caleb snapped.
"Brother, please," Philip begged. "Join Amadeus and me on the next witch hunt. Stop defending every single witch that we bring in before the court. Do something, anything, to get the town to actually like you. Your friendship with the Reverend and my friendship with the General will not protect you forever."
Caleb looked away and took another puff from his pipe. "I stand by my beliefs," he said. "And I believe that the Witch Hunters do no good."
Philip rubbed his temples in frustration. "Can you at least stop talking to birds?" he asked. "Take those blasted pinecones down and get a dog like everyone else."
Caleb looked up at the large pinecones he had hanging up on the awning. Before stringing them up with hemp rope, Caleb slathered them with honey and covered them with seeds and nuts. The birds were currently fluttering around the pinecones, pecking at the cones and getting at the seeds and nuts.
"Philip, I have no friends and no social life. Who am I supposed to talk to?"
"A woman, maybe?" Philip suggested. "Agatha seemed to like you."
Caleb blushed and looked away. "My romantic life is none of your business, brother."
Philip rolled his eyes. "Caleb, you know you can be accused of witchcraft for talking to animals. And it's bad enough that you talk to the birds, but do you really have to name them too?"
"What's wrong with naming them?" Caleb asked. "Look, see that finch? That's David. The robin there is Winston. That sparrow is Jack. I don't know why, but I feel as though that will be lot funnier after a couple more centuries. And the bluebird right there is Abigail. She has a brother named James, but he doesn't show up very often. He's a bit shy, doesn't like to be around other birds."
"...I worry about you, brother," said Philip. "I worry about you a lot."
"Oh, but where's-" Caleb's eyes widened and he smiled. "There he is!"
A bright red cardinal flew in to join the group of birds. It chirped happily before it pecked at the pinecones for food.
"That's Flapjack," said Caleb. "He's my favorite."
"...Flapjack," Philip repeated.
"Our favorite thing to eat as kids, remember?" said Caleb. "And watch this."
Caleb took some seed out of his pocket and held it up towards the birds. The rest of the birds ignored him, but Flapjack the Cardinal flew down and landed on Caleb's shoulder.
"See that?" Caleb raised his hand up and let the cardinal eat out of his hand. "Flapjack here is the only bird who trusts me enough to eat out of my hand. He likes me."
Philip took a long swig from his bottle and sighed. "Caleb…I love you, brother…but there is much you need to change about yourself."
"I like who I am. Furthermore, I will not become a part of what you do, Philip." Caleb said. "I'm sorry, but I just can't."
"Why are you so critical of the Witch Hunters?" Philip asked. "Why is it so important for you to defend those who have been accused of witchcraft?"
"Philip," Caleb turned to look his brother in the eyes. "Please listen to me very carefully."
Philip tilted his head curiously.
"There are no such things as witches," Caleb stated. "Witches. Do not. Exist."
Philip's expression became surprised, then angry. He took a deep puff from his pipe and blew it out of his nose. "...I didn't realize that you thought the work I do is simply me being a gullible fool."
"That is not what I said."
"But it's what you meant."
Caleb grunted and emptied the spent ash from his pipe. "I'm going for a walk." Flapjack flew off of Caleb's shoulder as he stood up and pocketed his pipe.
"Caleb-"
"Forget it." Caleb finished his cider and tossed the empty bottle aside before walking away. "Lock the place up for me, would ya, brother? Touch my bird feeders or my ship in a bottle and I'll shoot you, you know how it is."
Philip watched as his older brother stormed off. He shook his head and sighed as he sat alone on the porch.
Caleb sat alone in the church. The candles burning along the walls provided illumination as the sun set outside. Caleb sat next to one of the candle stands and read from the Holy Bible, provided by the church to everyone who came in.
"'Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.'" Caleb read aloud from Colossians. "...Not a lot of that going around here, I'm afraid."
"The Bible has, and always will be, open to interpretation."
Caleb looked up to see the town Reverend walking up to him. An old, potato-nosed Irishman with greying hair and a husky build. Rumor had it the man used to be a frequent bar fighter and a drunk before he devoted himself to the Lord. Wearing the black cassock and white collar of the clergymen, the stocky man didn't really look all too intimidating to Caleb, and he knew just how kind the Holy man really was.
Caleb smiled. "Reverend O'Neil." he greeted. "How are you?"
"The better question is how are you, my son?" As expected, the old man spoke with a heavy Irish accent. "I hear ya won the Agatha Miller trial. Well done, muh' boy."
"Thank you, Reverend." Caleb looked away and sighed. "If only I could have saved the rest of them."
"Ah, ya don't give yerself enough credit, lad." the Reverend took a seat next to Caleb. "Ya save lives. You've more than earned a place in God's Kingdom."
"How many people have been burned alive?" said Caleb. "How many people have been hunted like animals and then drowned in the nearest river? It's happened to children, Reverend. Children."
Reverend O'Neil's gaze became somber and he nodded. "I know how it is to feel like ya ain't doing all that ya can. I'm the bloody Reverend for crying out loud, and I can hardly keep those damn Witch Hunters from doing too much damage."
"I hate living in this town," Caleb confessed. "I often dream about leaving this place."
"And where would go?" the Reverend asked.
"New York. Sign up with the Navy. Become a ship captain someday." Caleb's face became filled with wonder as he dreamed about it. "Can you imagine it, Reverend? Being in command aboard a grand vessel? Traveling the world, seeing new places, meeting new people? Discovering untold wonders?"
Reverend O'Neil chuckled. "How's that bottled ship coming along?"
"I believe it to be a century before it's time, but it's coming along nicely nonetheless," said Caleb. "It's almost complete, actually."
"And your dream is to one day captain a ship like the one in your bottle?" Reverend asked.
"Absolutely," Caleb said. "I would name my ship the Golden Guard. She would have bright white sails and a golden trim. A gold figurehead of a masked warrior clad in armor at the bow. It would be a beautiful ship, and I would sail her to the far ends of the Earth and discover wonders that would leave you breathless."
"A bold dream." said the Reverend. "What keeps you from making your way to New York and following that dream?"
Caleb frowned, ending his moment of wonder. "...Two things," he confessed. "I fear that with me gone, lives that can be saved will instead be ended. With me here, there is a chance I can save innocent lives from General Belos' madness."
"And the second reason is your brother." said the Reverend.
Caleb nodded. "When our parents died, we made a promise to never abandon each other. To always have each other's backs. I can't just leave him, and I know he wouldn't be willing to come with me to New York."
"Yes, Philip is quite devoted to the Witch Hunters," said Reverend O'Neil.
"Reverend…you don't actually believe in witches, do you?" Caleb asked.
"Mmm…" Reverend took a moment to answer. "...I believe that the Witch Hunters are more after glory and recognition than anything else. I believe they justify their killing to make themselves look like heroes, and it works."
"But, do you actually believe witches exist?" Caleb asked.
"...I believe that we have yet to see it all, muh' boy." the Reverend replied. "I believe that anything is possible. I believe that as God exists, so too does Satan. I believe that where there is black and white, there's also grey."
Caleb blinked in confusion. "Was…that a yes or a no?"
"It's a big world, Caleb. Bigger than I think most people ever truly realize." said the Reverend. "Who know's what ya'll find 'round the corner?"
Outside, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed.
"Storm's a-comin'." The Reverend rose to his feet. "Ya best get home, lad, before the storm brings its hammer down."
Caleb rose to his feet and shook the Reverend's hand. "Have a good night, Reverend." he offered the Bible back.
"Keep it, lad." said the Reverend. "Give ya somethin' good to read on yer sleepless nights. Ya know, since ya can't seem to find yerself a wife."
Caleb blushed and grumbled in irritation as he put the good book in his coat. "This again?"
"Yes, this again." said the Reverend. "Yer a handsome young man who's a hero to every pretty lass he saves from the executioner. What about the Miller girl ya saved earlier today?"
"Well…I mean…you see…"
"Ah, ya blushin' beauty. Back in Dublin, ya'd get yer arse kicked just fer the red face alone. What's it gonna take to get ya to find the right woman? What are ya waiting fer?"
"...The right woman, I guess," Caleb confessed. "I always thought when I met the right woman, I would…I would just know, somehow."
"Yer hopeless, muh' boy. Yer absolutely hopeless."
Caleb groaned and shook his head. "Thank you, Reverend. Have a good night." he turned around and walked away.
"Be careful on your way back, lad." said the Reverend. "Witchcraft or not, strange things have been going on in this town."
"How do you mean?" Caleb asked as he placed his hand on the door.
"As of late, things have been going missing. Small trinkets, food, that sort of thing. The horses get spooked during the night fer no good reason. And of course, some loon lit Allingham's barn on fire."
"Probably a thief looking for food and whatnot," said Caleb. "Might've knocked a lamp over when he broke into Allingham's barn."
"Aye. Probably." The Reverend agreed. "Still though, be cautious, lad. I'd hate for ya to wind up dead in a ditch with yer belongings swiped from yer person."
"I'll be fine, Reverend," said Caleb. "Good night."
Caleb opened the doors and left the church. Thunder and lightning continued to sound off.
"May God watch over you, Caleb Wittebane." the Reverend said. "No matter where you may find yerself."
Caleb wasn't even halfway home before the rain started. The rain was light now but threatened to grow heavier in the next few minutes. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled overhead.
"Ah, curse this rain," Caleb muttered.
He looked around for shelter. The old Miller barn wasn't far away. Caleb doubted that Mr. Miller would mind if he slept under the barn's awning for the night just to avoid the rain. He made his way through the rain to the Miller barn. Once he was under the protection of the awning, Caleb let out a sigh of contentment.
"Thank God. Out of the rain." Caleb said as the rain became heavier. To warm his bones, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his pipe and tobacco.
Before he could even tap some tobacco into his pipe, Caleb noticed something off. The large barn double doors were closed and locked up, but the small, single door to the side of the big doors was unlocked. Everyone in town knew that Mr. Miller always kept his property under lock and key, and yet the open lock was hanging off the door's latch, slightly swaying back and forth in the wind. Either Mr. Miller had come to his barn in this weather, or a thief had broken into his barn.
Caleb narrowed his eyes at the unlocked door. He put his pipe and tobacco back in his coat and pulled out his flintlock instead.
Caleb slowly opened the barn door and peered into the barn. It was dark inside, stacks of crates and barrels made a maze of the place, containing Miller's wares and belongings. Caleb crept inside and closed the door. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed, illuminating the barn enough for Caleb to get a sense of navigation.
Caleb looked around nervously before making his way through the barn, searching for either Miller or the thief that broke into his barn. Something strange caught Caleb's attention. In the back of the barn, there was a glow.
To Caleb's bewilderment, the glow was green.
"What in God's name?" he muttered under his breath. Nervous, Caleb made his way to the source of the glow, hoping to make sense of its origin. He tiptoed past all the crates and barrels to the back of the barn. And what he saw, took his breath away.
A couple of logs had been placed in the back of the barn and set on fire. And the fire was as green as a spring pine, producing not a single puff of smoke.
Crouching behind one of the larger crates, Caleb stared gobsmacked at the green fire. He swallowed down his anxiety, fighting back the tremble of fear.
He wasn't alone.
A woman was sitting by the fire, using a small wooden crate as a stool. The green light made it hard to make out a lot of detail. All Caleb could see of the woman was a narrow face and hair like a lion's mane. With the hood down, she wore a black cloak over a violet dress. Black, high-heeled boots decorated her feet.
And her ears.
Caleb blinked in awe. The woman's ears were long and pointed. Nothing natural.
'...No…it's not possible.'
The woman grunted and traced a circle in the air. Caleb clamped a hand over his mouth as he watched the woman trace a circle of golden light in the air. She aimed the circle at the fire, which flared up and became the color of regular fire. The woman wafted her hand and sniffed the fire, as if testing the smell of a soup.
"Perfect," she said. The woman reached behind her and grabbed a stick with a skewered trout at the end of it. She hovered the trout over the fire and let it cook.
Mouth agape, Caleb stared at the woman and put his gun away. The fire's change in color made it easier to see the woman's true features. Her lion's mane hair was the color of rust. Her skin was as pale as ash, complemented by her black lips. Caleb…had trouble taking his eyes off of her.
Her eyes were her most fascinating feature, trumping her pointy ears even. No one Caleb had ever met had that eye color. They were the color of expensive red wine. The same color of red seen in a sunset.
"There we go." the woman said as the trout finished cooking. "Woodrow. Wake up, ya lazy bird."
It was then that Caleb noticed the black, wooden staff leaning against the barn wall by the woman's side. At the top of the staff, an impressive carving of a woodpecker sat.
The woodpecker carving came to life and flapped its wings, taking the appearance of a real bird. It flew over and landed on the woman's shoulder. The woman chuckled as the bird pecked her ear affectionately.
Caleb took a shocked intake of air.
The woman immediately tensed up like a wary deer. Her wine-colored eyes looked over at Caleb's hiding spot.
Caleb crouched behind the crate and held as still as possible. Eyes wide with fear, he refused to so much as breathe.
The woman raised her finger in the air and traced another glowing circle.
An invisible force picked the startled Caleb up and tossed him over the crate he was hiding behind. He belly-flopped onto the dirt floor in front of the woman. Caleb gulped as he looked up with frightened eyes at the woman as she looked down at him with her magenta eyes.
Appearing almost bored, the woman took a bite out of her trout and chewed thoughtfully before swallowing the bite. She licked the grease off her lips and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.
"Boo."
Caleb let out a terrified yell and shot to his feet, immediately rushing to the exit. He tripped a couple of times, but kept on running as if the Devil himself was after him.
Caleb Wittebane burst out of the barn and into the rain, leaving the cackling witch behind.
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'Till next time!
