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Chapter 3: In Which Howl and Sophie Meet the Witch of the Waste

Drat.

His playful mood had turned sour, and there was no way around this predicament. If Howl stepped foot inside the hat shop, the witch would surely recognize him—whether he was disguised or garbed as himself—and if Sophie stepped into the hat shop… well, the poor girl was doomed by a grievous fault. Because of this, Howl felt irrevocably responsible for any wrongdoing that was bound to happen to Sophie Hatter that beautiful morning—and for allowing the witch to potentially best him at his own game of Cat and Mouse.

It's not fair, Howl thought, pouting at the changing conditions. Up until now, he'd never lost a game. His brows knitted and they only relaxed once he realized that if he kept doing the action, he'd get... wrinkles. They were like the plague to him. They easily spread and created sons, daughters, sisters, brothers, cousins, nieces, nephews—probably twice removed on their mother's side—and every other relative he could think of.

He'd have none of that aging business.

Heaven forbid he developed laugh lines…

"…Howl," he heard Sophie call in a cautious, hushed tone. Her hands were clasped together in her lap from where she sat on the bed. "You're scaring me." She was under the impression that she'd be making this statement far too often while she tried to break their curses, and her eyes were following his every agitated movement.

Howl had been pacing back and forth near the bed for quite some time now, debating on whether or not the plan he had devised would benefit either of them. He'd risk Sophie's wellbeing if he put the idea into motion; that much was certain. However, he couldn't bring it upon himself to request such a dangerous task of her. The fact that he still had yet to clean the blood from his hands and face—and the splotches that stained his white shirt—caused Sophie to think of how true he matched the rumors circulating about him… how murderous he reminded her that he was.

"Howl?" she called cautiously. "Will you please calm down?" Wasn't he less anxious before…?

He paused mid-step, giving her a brusque turn of his head. "Calm down?" He crossed his arms, scoffing at the horrendous idea. "You're awfully calm, Sophie." He touched his chin with his right hand, eyeing the ceiling vaguely while he ranted to himself. "Yes, you are quite at ease right now…" He shrugged. "Although, I suppose since you're in a room with a murderer, knowing you're meeting the Witch of the Waste wouldn't be that much of a revelation…"

Sophie was getting annoyed, but she kept her voice level to keep the emotion at bay. Her slitting eyes and pursed lips gave away far more than she would have liked, though. "I'm trying to think rationally about this, Howl."

"Do you enjoy being so close to death?" he suddenly asked. The question had thrown Sophie off guard. Howl could tell by the way her cheeks flamed and her lips parted.

"Wh-what?" she asked.

A small, knowing simper quirked onto Howl's lips as his cheeks slowly lifted. "Ah, so you do enjoy being so close to death. Gives you quite a rush, doesn't it?"

Sophie tried her best to look offended, but Howl could see right through her. As she stood, she turned from him and marched around the bed, ignoring his grin while she headed towards the window. "I don't know what you mean…" She clasped her hands together in front of her abdomen, knowing her words to be a lie.

Howl chuckled lightly, and his boots clicked against the floor as he slowly proceeded towards her. "Sophie," he said softly. "It's perfectly normal to love thrills."

"I've no need for them," Sophie said, shaking her head. Her bangs moved about with the action.

"I beg to differ."

Her eyes closed as she touched her chest, feeling her heart beating. "You don't know me, Howl," she reminded. "You know nothing about me." She turned to find that he was directly behind her, his eyes dancing with complacency. She wasn't sure whether to admire him or slap that look right off his perfectly, fawned over face. The latter would give her more satisfaction; she knew that much was certain.

As the blond propped his left knuckle on his hip, he asked, "Would you truly deny yourself an adventure because you pretend to only like simple things?"

Howl watched as Sophie unknowingly brought her hand to touch her temples, thinking it over. When he noted how distraught she looked, he took her right hand in his and dipped his head towards her face. They were nearly nose-to-nose as he queried, "Would you deny an adventure with me, Sophie?"

He wasn't fooling her. She knew perfectly well that this was the curse causing Howl to spew such sweet nothings to her… or so she'd suspected…

However…

I'm not changing into an old woman, she thought. Her ponytail was reddish-brown once again, draping over her left shoulder and her skin wrinkle-free… She wasn't transforming—no protection curse was temporarily at play… In a low, surprised murmur, she whispered, "You're… you're really being truthful…" Hell must've been freezing over.

Chuckling, Howl pressed his forehead against hers in the gentlest of manners before retreating—almost as if he were humoring her own statement. All too quickly, his smile faded and his brows knitted while he searched her face for any signs of aging… I am being truthful, he thought, stunned by his own request from earlier. Oh, dear… "…Sophie?"

"Yes?"

"Remember what I am," he reminded, sounding somber. "Remember why we're working together—to rid each other of our curses—to hope that you can break mine before I find a way to break yours..." I do hope you win the game...

Giving him a mindful gaze, she bowed her head. "I remember what you are, Howl."

He didn't like the pacifying tone she was using. "Do you?" he pressed. "Truly?"

Again, she nodded. "You're just like me—unlucky." She thought it best to make light of the situation, considering how tense the wizard appeared. She felt a tug at her heart strings upon seeing such an expression on his features.

Apparently, the jest must've worked, because they both shared a brief smile before Howl turned and headed towards the door. Sophie hurried after him, and as he opened it, he said, "I'll follow after you in disguise."

Stepping out, Sophie frowned at him. "But Howl—"

The gentle way he touched her shoulders put her at ease. "If I can't harm you, I'm sure she can't." Or at least he presumed… His glass-like eyes flickered to the left when he heard footsteps. No doubt Sophie's mother coming to collect her once more. "You should go," he encouraged, shooing her off with a wave of his hand. "I won't be long." There'd be no minute wasted. Not when it came to Sophie Hatter... his only potential ticket to freedom.

He gave her no time to reply before closing the door, hearing Sophie's rushed footsteps head down the hall, and hurriedly descending the stairs. As he turned and rested his back against the door, he asked himself, "What should I disguise myself as in order to enter the hat shop…?" The possibilities were endless for the wizard, although picking one that suited him had to be taken with the utmost precaution. He had his pride—and vanity—to consider as well, so something, or someone, well tailored would surely suit him.

Rubbing his chin, he sighed. "I can't be a person this time, can I?" The witch would expect him that of him. He'd been masquerading as different countrymen in his last seven rounds of fleeing. The guise was getting old, and he suspected that a new plan would suit him—lest he go out of style… Then again, making myself into another person would be considered classic at this point. His feet began to pace around the room absently in the smallest of circles.

"Maybe a dog…?" His eyes flickered towards the ceiling as he'd spoken the glib remark, leaving the question up for debate. Eventually, he made as sour face, the idea seeming ludicrous. "Hardly an idea worthy of exploring…" And just when Howl assumed no form suitable, he snapped his fingers, a brilliant smile flashing on his dashing features as he headed towards the door…

And when it opened, no person was left in the entryway—no breath from said object was taken, and Howl was eventually found by a stranger…

"I'm sorry, madam," Sophie said, sounding a bit timid as she brought her curled hand to her chest. "But I'm not running the shop today…" She was standing in front of a large wooden desk, with a purple-carpeted floor to greet her heeled boots, and every shelf, and display, in the room was covered in hats—or 'tacky hats' as the Witch of the Waste had so resentfully described it.

The larger than life woman was standing close to the wooden door in an unflattering, form-fitting black dress. Fur aligned the back collar of it, leaving the front two ends to hang from her broad shoulders. The wide brimmed hat she wore to match hid the only stylish thing on her gluttonous shaped body: her light colored hair.

"Why's that?" her hoarse, boastful sounding voice asked Sophie. Her green eyes narrowed into calculated slits, and the rivaling eye shadow on her lids did her no favors in the looks department, unless she were auditioning for the part of a jester. "I was under the impression from your mother that you were the hardest worker around here." She scoffed. "I knew she was wrong."

Sophie ignored a female coworker entering—and placing an extravagant, flowery, wide brimmed blue hat on the nearest display before exiting—in favor of counting how many rolls the witch had stacked on her neck. After realizing this, she gulped, blinking out of her trance. "I-I'm going out of town for a long while," she explained. "And I'm leaving this morning." Where are you Howl? The woman was soon to drive her mad, and although Sophie didn't declare herself a beauty, she knew she could far surpass this vile woman in appearance on the most horrid of days… That alone spoke volumes about the wicked character that stood before her.

Couldn't she use her magic to make herself look beautiful? Sophie didn't know how right she was about that statement—especially because it pertained to Howl and the Witch's history.

The woman grunted, turning at a rather sluggish movement on her heels to gaze at the newly placed hat. The only decent hat in this shop... "Really? And where might you be off to?"

Sophie could feel her temper rising. "I'm afraid that's none of your business, madam." She meant to sound as haughty as she had, and to give her the small glare that she gave, however, she only meant to do these things in her thoughts… not to actually display them.

The woman gave her a smug smirk as she turned around. "You've got some guts speaking to the Witch of the Waste like that."

Sophie's glower faltered as the woman took a step towards her. She can't harm me, she reminded in a quick, fretful chant. She can't… Her eyes focused on the elegant blue hat that had been placed in the shop. I don't recall making that hat… Sophie worked diligently, and she made sure that she handcrafted each hat to the best of her abilities… It must be the one mother talked about… although something seems off. It was far too flamboyant of a hat to have ever entered the shop—even by her mother's standards. It practically glowed with sophistication and the color shimmered as if it were put together with the tiniest of crystals and diamonds to give it a shine that radiant and envious…

For a lady's hat, she knew of only one man that would ever purchase it. Howl, she thought, feeling more relieved now. It practically screamed Howl's handy work. "You'll have to excuse me," Sophie said again, more absently this time as she locked eyes with the woman. "But I'm going out of town for a while. I'm in quite a rush."

The woman tilted her head. "Could it be that you're meeting Howl?" She took another step towards Sophie. "Well then," she said, spreading her arms. Sophie only had time to feel a rush of air surrounding her as she braced herself and shielded her arms in front of her until the chaotic winds vanished. When it was over, Sophie lowered her arms just in time to see the door start to shut and the witch say, "Give my regards to Howl." The click of the entrance shutting was the only indication she needed to know the woman wasn't returning.

She looked down at herself, noticing that she was now an old woman, but as she gazed down at her veiny, wrinkled fingers, she couldn't help but smile as she watched them change. "You were right, Howl," she whispered in amazement, lifting her palms and slowly flipping them as she watched the wrinkles vanish. Even hearing how her voice shifted from a hoarse, elderly woman to her youthful tone seemed amazing to experience. "I'm protected against her curses as well."

The blue hat rumbled until it burst into fireworks, exploding into colorful sprinkles of red, blue, green, and yellow until it formed into the shape of a tall man. Sophie watched as Howl's distinct features began to morph from the shape until he was sharing the same grin she wore on her own features.

"It worked, Sophie!" he exclaimed, rushing over to her. He took her by the waist, lifting her once in his childish excitement, and he twirled fluidly in a circle. It was after he placed her firmly back on the ground that he took her hand in his own and led her towards the back door with rushed steps.

"Howl?" Sophie asked, tripping over her own feet as they ran. Howl pushed the door open and before Sophie had time to react and he leapt into the air, hearing Sophie's surprised scream during the movement.

It wasn't until after Howl had fully ascended into the clouds that he leaned down to whisper, "You can open your eyes now," to the terrified Sophie Hatter.

She hadn't realized they were closed, to be perfectly honest. Peeking them open, she gasped and clutched onto his right hand. "I swear, Howl! If you're trying to eat my heart again—!"

His chuckling caused her to trail off. "Would you like a real dance this time?"

She was quick to decline with a shake of her head as he briskly walked through the air. Her feet moved in time with his own. "N-no," she said, glancing down at the town. "I… where are we going?"

"To see Calcifer," he explained. "He can help you solve our curses… Will you please relax?"

"It's unsettling," Sophie admitted, clutching his arm tighter as he picked up his pace.

"You didn't mind so much the first time," he reminded.

"You weren't trying to kill me until we started dancing," she commented. They sounded like a bickering married couple, and when Howl realized this, he quieted.

It wasn't until they were a good bit away from town and heading straight into the dangerously blinding fog that Sophie asked, "Howl, where does Calcifer live?"

"With me," he answered, sounding distracted as he glimpsed to his left. "Don't be alarmed, but we might have a rough landing."

"Is something—?" The air was knocked out of her as they descended towards the earth, and the fog gave no indication of when they'd meet the ground. The Waste wasn't anything like the town of Market Chipping. It was quite grim in comparison when the weather randomly turned like this.

The wind, steam blowing, and the sound of squeaking gears turning were the only hint Sophie was given to be warned that the moving castle was near. She saw a brief glance of the outside of the castle—barely—but it was only the odd outline of blackness as Howl flew her onto the porch steps. Their feet landed with a thump and she braced herself by grabbing his shoulders while he did the same to her waist. The wooden door opened and Howl pushed her inside—but not before Sophie turned and saw something resembling a stick figure hobble towards them just as the door slammed shut.

"Master Howl's back!" Markl shouted as Howl and Sophie paced up the stone steps. The child looked no more than ten, sporting a white shirt with a green vest and matching pants. A bowtie rested around his collar and his brown shoes trailed behind Howl's tall frame as his dark eyes took in the stranger he brought in with him. As his lips parted, he scratched his red hair and watched as Howl guided Sophie into the only available wooden chair in front of the large, stone fireplace, which was covered in abundant soot. "Um… Master Howl? Who's this?"

Howl paid no one else any mind as he went towards the stacked logs, picked a few up, and tossed them into the burning fire. "I guess I'll bother you for a bath later," he whispered as he peered down at the fire.

Sophie's brow arched from where she sat—and rather uncomfortably at that. "Bother who, Howl?"

Turning to her, he pointed at the child standing before them. "This is Michael."

"Markl," the boy corrected.

Howl gave him a knowing look as he inclined his head to the right, smiling a little. "Sophie's here to help break my curse—and her own included. Perhaps she could help you with yours as well, Michael." He made a 'tsk' noise. "It seems everyone in this castle has problems."

"Markl," the boy said again, huffing his puffy cheeks as he pouted. "It's Markl, Master Howl…" Howl's amused grin proved otherwise.

Sophie's head tilted as she studied the look being exchanged between the two. "So which is it really? Markl, or Michael?"

"Michael," Howl corrected at the same time the boy answered, "Markl."

Sophie raised her right hand shyly. "Well, I'm still me… just Sophie." She missed the thoughtful look Howl sent her way. "Happy to help."

"Are you a witch?" Markl asked with wide eyes.

Sophie almost answered, had the sight of the castle's interior not made her want to gag. It was dreadfully dirty—and her throat felt stuffy at the mere sight. She touched it to feel that she had a tickle forming due to the dust. Her eyes scanned the shelves that greeted her on the wall opposite the fireplace and to the right of the door. Spells books and jars of what appeared to be hearts in a mysterious blue liquid occupied each vacancy, and she had to tear her eyes away in order to hold back the scream in her throat.

"Trophies?" she guessed, feeling repulsed.

Howl followed where her gaze had been last. "…You could say that."

Sophie said nothing, gazing at the rectangular table positioned underneath the shelves. It was covered in potions and trinkets and scrolls—even food—particularly a loaf of bread, some eggs, and some Monterey cheese… Three chairs were sitting idly nearby, looking about as untouched and dusty as the stone floor and the wooden ceiling, where black spiders were cozied in their webs. It made Sophie fold her hands into her lap, unsure of what to do next in such a place. "Howl… when was the last time you cleaned this place?" It looked like it hadn't been touched in centuries, save for the only window nearest the doorsteps.

All too quickly, Howl sighed. "I have to be going, Michael. Take care of Sophie while I'm gone." He glanced at the area under the stairs. "She could sleep there if you can make her a small bed." He spared her the briefest of glances. "I woke you up in a fright. You must be tired." There was a hidden demand for her to sleep while he was away, but she wasn't sure why. Protective? Perhaps... The air around him seemed different, though, and Sophie knew where he was off too as his feet hurried to the door.

"Howl?" she called. "You didn't meet anyone else while you were with me, did you...?"

"No," he whispered. "This girl lives in Porthaven…" He would kill her this morning. "I've been courting her for weeks, just to let her heart marinate for a while." Over his shoulder, he said, "They taste better that way if you wait… like reading about the journey of lovers in a romance novel…" He sounded so bitter in his speech, almost as if he wished he weren't going.

Sophie ran after him, racing down the steps, and grabbing his right hand before he could get to the door, and that was when she noticed the many switches on the golden dial near it. One was green, the other blue, one red, and the last was black. "Howl," she whispered. "You can fight this…"

The comment gave him déjà vu.

"I'll be back before breakfast," he stated, pulling out of her grasp and opening the latch. The switch on the dial flipped, but Sophie hadn't glanced at the color, only his retreating back as he leaped out of the door and it slammed in front of her.

"Howl," she croaked out, feeling her throat burn.

"I knew it!" Markl shouted. "You really are a witch!"

Sophie snapped her head up to see him leaning his upper form on the banister that was attached to the floor which connected with the doors attached to the stairs. It was probably there to prevent anyone from falling over next to the window. "What do you mean?"

"You were an old woman just then!" Markl said. "And Master Howl noticed—he looked really upset!"

Sophie's eyes widened at the news and she peered down at herself. Of course, she looked perfectly fine now; Howl was gone… Oh, Howl, she thought with a sullen sigh as she ascended the stairs. I do hope you spare her life… But she knew it was impossible.

It was after she climbed the stone steps that she noticed the wooden ones leading upstairs on the farthest side of the room… "Markl," she said.

"Yes?" a slightly older voice asked.

Sophie jumped at the noise, startled when she turned to see that Markl was indeed older by at least five years, taller too, and his hair was slightly longer. His clothes fit him oddly, and Sophie was sure that centuries from now all the girls would call the formfitting getup a new fad…

"You're," Sophie started. "You aged?"

"No," Michael said. "This is my normal age. I'm fifteen."

Sophie squinted in confusion. She appeared to be dreaming—surely she must've been to see something this strange... However, her curse was no different—save for it involving her heart being eaten. Markl's curse was a wonder; the boy she new had sprouted a good two feet within the blink of an eye. "How... how did you do that?" she asked.

"It's not by choice," Michael explained with a grim sigh. "It happens randomly."

"Who did this to you?" Sophie asked.

Michael opened his lips to speak, only to have them close forcefully. After struggling to formulate a sentence, he gave up and huffed, combing his hand through his hair. "Are you hungry, Sophie? Master Howl says he'll be back before breakfast, but he's usually gone until after noon if he leaves at this hour."

"I… I think I should go to sleep," she whispered, feeling fatigued. It was dreadfully early. "Maybe we could eat once I wake up…" After this castle gets cleaned. She wasn't about to sit in a filthy castle amongst aging dust bunnies while she had a cursed boy, and a murderer, breathing down her neck. She needed some semblance of humanity to keep her going if she were to be here… The sooner she fixed Howl's curse, the sooner she could go back to her family.

Michael gave a firm bow of his head and ran towards the area under the stairs. "I'll make you a bed!"

"Thank you," she said tiredly, going to seat herself by the fire. "Shouldn't you find more suitable clothes?" She absently placed another log into the fire and she felt her eyes wanting to close themselves...

Just as she was on the brink of sleep, a voice murmured, "That's some curse ya got there, lady." In her fatigued state, she assumed it to be Markl—Michael—whatever it was he called himself…

"Come on, Sophie," she heard the boy say as he ushered her out of the chair and led her to her new bed under the stairwell.

"Did you let her in here?" the voice said again yawning. He appeared to be whining from being awoken by Markl's voice, and seeing Sophie.

"I didn't!" Markl said, sounding as childish as ever. And Sophie could tell he was pouting once more, back to his ten-year-old self. "Master Howl did."

"Oh boy," the voice said. "I hope Howl didn't bring her in here just to eat her later." They'd both seen it happen before—completely by accident, though. It was when Howl's curse first started.

All was silent before Markl whispered, "Me either, Calcifer..."

…

A/N: Really long update; I know. Terribly sorry! I didn't make this one too long, as the next one is really long and I didn't want to make it over 13,000 words. I can't even sit through that lol thanks for reading and if you'd like you can leave a review, or hit any of the buttons below. I don't mind either and both are welcome. :]

Best Regards,

AJ

Replies to guest reviews:

James Birdsong: Awesome, that means I'm doing my job right!

Mikoto13: Yeah, I noticed that when I write, too. I think it just depends on the viewpoint. I write better in third person, at least I think so. It seems to flow better whenever I do if I'm making sense lol Thanks for reviewing my stuff!

Jack Malvine: Aw shucks, really? Thanks so much! I'm glad you like it so far. Feel free to express how you feel about later chapters if you'd like!

James Hasmen/Nick Daniels/Angelina Wonder: I'm not saying you're spamming my review board, but it is perfectly odd to have you all submit a review within the exact same minute of each other, on the exact same day, chapter by chapter… If you're one person, one review is enough, which is why I deleted the rest. Thank you kindly for reading. I do appreciate it, but resubmitting your reviews repeatedly on my review list doesn't make my anymore inclined to update at a quicker rate. I've also taken the time to check the time frame of how long it takes you to submit a review on other people's work in this section and I must say, they're usually all within the same minute of each other so I'm not basing my assumption on just the reviews of my work, but rather everyone else's as well. Please bear that in mind. One meaningful review is enough for me than multiple riddled with praise and updating. Review count means nothing in terms of updating but I thank you for posting your opinions. -AJ

Guest: Thanks! Hopefully you like what you read!

DALDE: No need to apologize. I'm a native to the language and I still fumble with English. We've got like hundreds of words that are spelled the same but they can mean two different things. ;[ I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. You're welcome to stick around to the end! I'm happy to have another reader!