O'challa
It hit him as they got to the house, so he stopped talking. The forest make just enough room for a curved shack made mostly of rough rock and leaning to its right side over a small stream. The piles of small mammal bones along the path towards the entrance were a sight to behold in the slowly dwindling gravy-like light of the Disc. They were both fascinating and foreboding, as if the person living there harbored dangerous predators inside, the kind that are many and vicious, so that you cannot fend them off all at the same time. He shuddered.
Granny glanced at the bones as well. Not in awe, as a witch is never surprised, but in disapproval, as she deemed such things beneath the status of a true witch. Pretenders were everywhere, with little to no experience and charging people money for services which are a witch's business anyway. Such a pity that O'challa had taken a liking to these things. Then again, Granny always did find her rather odd, despite her otherwise proper witch behavior, training, and noteworthy powers. But, then again, she had not visited her in quite some time, and it changes people. Of course, she had stayed the same.
As expected, though the wizard was clearly not expecting it, the door opened with a definite creak and with a low cackle, O'challa came out of the shack, all in black, but with a lot more white hair than Granny remembered, and quite a few more wrinkles lining her cocoa brown skin. Her blue eyes, however, seemed just as witty.
"You should get that door oiled, you know," said Granny, pointing to the hinges on the front door.
"I kept postponin' till I get rid of this damn cold and cough," said O'challa in her funny drawl. Granny liked the way she spoke. Nanny Ogg was her closest witch, but O'challa made her relax. "Who're you, sweet bun?" asked O'challa, peeking from behind Granny's taller frame.
"Oh, I'm Don, M'am, nice to meet you!" the wizard answered, lifting his hat respectfully.
"Well, aren't you a sweetheart!" said O'challa beaming, and she laughed, her dark, foreboding cackle again, ending in a nasty cough. Don didn't know whether to fear her or like her.
"You need to do something about that cough, May," said Granny, "where did you pick it up?"
"Oh, it's nothing, it'll pass, I got it from the little ol' Johanna, Johann's kid from two streams hubward. But come on in, y'all! Don't ya be stayin' outside now! Y'all be in danger from the snakes around these here places," she ended, on a quieter, darker tone, and then laughed, a proper cackle this time. Don felt chills running down his spine and his forehead and palms begin to sweat. Granny looked impassibly to O'challa and scoffed.
"May, we aren't children to be scared so easily. And I don't like the way the path looks like. It's as if you take no interest in your own house!"
"Oh, calm down, Esme, darling, it's nothing, just a lil' something to scare the pesky children of the Muerers from one stream down from here," replied the other witch, her eyes smiling, her hands waving distractedly around. As they were stepping in, she closed the door with the same unsettling creaking.
"So, Esme, tell me all about this quest of yours while I'm making y'all a cuppa," said O'challa, as she was going towards the fireplace. There was already a pot of water over the fire. Granny took a look around to see whether there were any mirror-like objects around. None. She nodded, pleased by the lack of mirrors. Such is a true, proper witch who doesn't dabble in stupid mirror magic.
"There's no mirrors here, Esme! I put them all away since that fiasco with your sister. And yes, I know about that, too. I have birds and snakes telling me about what's goin' on outside dem damn trees all the time.