"What exactly do you do with it when you get it?"

She looked up from her reading. "Excuse me?"

It was winter now, and that meant the main harvest was done. She had taken to spending her days at Soul's cottage nearly daily, especially since the mountainous abode she shared with her coven was unnaturally chilly this time of year.

Maka noticed the darkened sky outside the window. When had it become this late? The crackling fire was nice though, and lit up the whole room with a toasty glow.

Soul cleared his throat to catch her attention again.

"Sorry. What did you say?"

He licked his lips, suddenly unsure of how to phrase his next words. "What exactly do you witches do when you get a firstborn child from someone?"

She paused. He must've taken her silence as something sinister though, because he paled.

"Oh no, don't tell me you guys eat it or something—

"Ew, no! Soul, do I look like a cannibal to you?"

"I don't know, I've seen the way you've torn into a turkey leg."

"That was one time!" she threw back, but laughed all the same.

In the past few months, she'd grown more comfortable with the young man. While she still tried to set him up on blind dates or point out eligible bachelorettes to him, she found herself coming around to his place more often for his company and less often to try to convince him to conceive her end of their deal.

When their giggles died down, she could see he was patiently waiting for her answer.

"We usually take them in," she started, "and sort of raise them as our own. Most become sort of like indentured servants, gathering materials for potions or cleaning up around the house."

She closed her book and continued. "Some even become witch apprentices, if they show enough innate magical skill."

"Wait. Regular people can become witches?"

"Well, that's what happened to me."

Soul became very quiet. This was the moment she didn't know she had been dreading.

She opened her mouth, hoping that some magical words would just appear to rectify the situation.

"My mother, she was the witch that took me…in."

He seemed to stare at the book that she was nervously turning in her hands, before looking up at her. The soft glow of the fire reflected in his eyes.

"So you've never met your real parents?"

His voice was quiet, like a prayer.

"No," she responded in kind.

He gave out a short sigh. "I don't remember much of my family either," his eyes flicked away, "…my parents both died when I was four."

Her heart lurched. "Soul I'm…I'm so sorry—

"It's fine, like I said, I don't really remember them. I came to live here with some distant relatives soon after." He shrugged as if to show off the room.

Then he was doing that thing again. Staring at her. This time, there were no words to be said.

Luckily, the distant chimes of the town's bell tower made up her mind for her.

"It's getting late." She waved her hand and her broom practically flew to her hand.

Her companion looked conflicted. Just as she was tugging on her cloak, he spoke up.

"Wait. Um, I was thinking about that."

"Thinking about what?"

"You leaving. That is. You've been coming around a lot lately."

She smiled, one eyebrow quirked. "Yes, yes I have."

"Well, I was wondering, if you wanted, you could stay here for the night. In the guest bedroom. Anytime, really…"

Soul? Rambling? Where was that gruffy farmer from earlier, to when she asked how the girlfriend search was coming along, had responded with some key choice words that she had never heard outside of the encyclopedia?

"…You've been talking about maybe setting up an apothecary for some extra change, and well it has its own fireplace so…"

"Okay."

He stopped talking, eyes locking onto hers once again. His head nodded slowly.

Soul showed her the room. It was pretty simple, if not a bit dusty. The bedding had a scythe pattern, which Soul had to explain to her.

"I mean mo—Ms. Sandsbury made it for me when I was like what, ten? This used to be my old room."

She giggled. "And you thought scythes would be cool?"

"Hey, I was ten. Anything sharp and dangerous was cool."

"I'll remember that for next time."

Minutes later, she collapsed on the bed exhausted. It sure would be nice to avoid having to fly back to the mountains in the blistering cold.

The sheets still smelled like Soul.

It reminded her of home.