Witch's Daughter

Prologue

Witches are evil. Witches are lazy. Witches have made a deal with a devil. Witches, are indistinguishable from any other folk. However, a Witch's child is not so lucky. When a witch has a child, it is always a girl, and is always cursed with pale, chalky skin. She will always have red eyes and small fangs. Witches are almost always women, so the easiest way for them to live comfortably is to seduce a man, and then kill him when they have their first child. It buys them more time to gather his belonging and run to a new village. The lucky men see their child, and know to run away from the demon before she can strike. You may wonder why a Witch would ever bother with children if they are such a give away. These frightful children also have a frightful strength, speed, and if they let them grow and harden, their nails can be as sharp and deadly as claws. Raised by their mothers to be ferocious and bloodthirsty, they become a formidable weapon to a Witch, especially in a world where everyone wants you dead. A single Witch Daughter can raid enough villages to keep their mother comfortable for the rest of her days. One more giveaway, is that when Witch Daughters cry, their tears are like acid to them, burning their skin where they fall. Fortunately for them, they almost never cry. They never feel pity. Their is very little of anything human left in them by the time they are grown. But perhaps it would be different, if they were raised.

Chapter 1: On the Farm

Karl paced up and down impatiently. Greta had insisted no old woman to help her. In fact, she had demanded to be left alone entirely to give birth to her child.

"Why would I want an old spinster, or a man in the room?! You would be the two worst people to talk to about birthing a child. I've seen it done plenty a time, and I'll take care of it myself!"

Still, Karl had refused to leave the house. Greta might think she knew everything, but Karl knew how dangerous childbirth could be to a woman. His own mother had died giving birth to his baby brother that had died as well. Karl would not leave his wife to face this danger entirely alone. He could hear his wife's heavy breathing and groans coming through the door. He stepped over to the fireplace and made sure all the water she had said to boil was still hot. One pot had become lukewarm, so he moved it closer to the flames again.

Just then, a piercing baby's cry broke through the stuffy cottage. Karl started and looked up. A smile of sheer delight started across his face. He rushed towards the door but he'd barely touched it when his wife called out-"Don't you dare! We both look a state!"

"Dearest Greta, you've done so much, just let me help clean-"

"You're shouting is only making her cry more! Just leave the water by the door and I'll have us cleaned up in a moment. Let a poor woman and baby alone for just 5 minutes!"

Half sighing half growling, Karl closed the door and fetched the water. Greta's hand shot out of the door and pulled the water in. Karl glanced towards her, afraid to make her mad. She just looked tired, a look he'd gotten quite use to over the past 9 months.

"Worry, worry, worry. Won't even let a man hold his daughter," he mumbled under his breath.

But at the word daughter, his face lit up again. She had said it was a girl. Karl stared contentedly into the flames, his eyes glazed over as his thoughts traveled to the future he would build for his little family. The farm was small, but he was also a good woodcutter. Between the two professions, he was confident he could make enough to keep them all comfortable.

Greta opened the door to the room. She'd changed her clothing and held the precious bundle in one arm and the dirty linens in another. She dropped the linens into the basket she'd had Karl leave near the door, and then finally started towards her husband.

Karl stood and held out his hands, but Greta raised a finger.

"Sit down. You told me yourself you've never held one before, and I won't have you dropping her."

Karl smiled and sat quickly, eagerly holding out his hands again. He raised his eyes from the bundle to Greta's face for just a moment. He paused. She was smiling, to be sure, but there was a look in her eyes he couldn't quite read. Something cold and...sly. But just then the bundle whimpered, and Karl slowly curled his arms around it, bringing his new daughter close to his chest.

Greta set the basket of linens by the fire, directly below the baby in Karl's arms.

"I'm not going to drop her," he insisted.

Karl started to coo and rock his little girl. Her tiny eyes were shut tight, her fists rubbing against her nose. Though newborn, she had a black tuft of hair already on the top of her head.

"Is it normal for a baby to be so pale?" questioned Karl as he leaned his head down closer to her.

Greta slipped her hand into her pocket, taking a firm grip on the blade she'd stowed there.

"Not usually, but she is definitely her mother's daughter."

Karl's brow scrunched, he'd rarely seen a woman so tanned as Greta was. She never did remember to wear her cap.

Just then, the little one yawned, revealing little, tiny points, already sticking up inside her red mouth. Karl froze, his hand just above her face.

Greta, stiffened, slowly drawing the dagger out of her skirt.

Karl reached up to the baby's face, and softly lifted one eyelid. The baby fidgeted and grasped Karl's thumb as her unfocused red eye was struck by the light of the flames. The iris was red.

Karl slowly looked up at Greta. His eye scanned over her hand hidden behind her skirt, and the hard sneer on her face. He glanced back down at the tiny child still clasping his hand. As Greta took another step forward, Karl spoke.

"Can we call her Mabel?"

Greta halted. "What?"

"Her name. Mabel. After my sister, God rest her soul."

Greta stared, but Karl continued to look at the baby.

"I don't know how you'll manage to feed her with teeth like that. She'll still need milk at the first, won't she?"

Karl finally looked up. Greta stared at him in confusion. Slowly, she moved her hand from the back to the front. Karl glanced at the knife in her hand, but did not set his daughter down.

"You lied to me. But, she's my daughter Greta. I'm not going to let you walk away with her."

Greta sneered. "What makes you think you have a say?"

"If you want to go try to make your way on your own, your welcome to it. But she's staying with me. Do you want to be her mother, or do you want to go?"

Greta looked Karl in the eye. "You'll just hand me over to the town. I have not interest in being stoned or burned!" She started towards Karl, but he stood and clutched the child to his chest, wrapping his arms till she was covered entirely.

"I won't unless you make me. I don't want them to take her away either, and we both know they would try. If you're so worried about the town, I'll build you a new cottage. Further away from them. We can say we want more space for our family. But you'll not be taking the child away from me. I'm her father, and she'll stay with her father."

Greta looked daggers at Karl. Her eyes reflected the flames from the fire as she tightened her grip on the knife, but then she relaxed it.

"Keeping her fed will take more effort," tested Greta.

"I'll take care of it." Karl replied curtly.

"She doesn't drink milk, she starts on meat."

"We have some rabbit from yesterday," he murmured quietly.

Greta sat down on the second stool near the fire, and set the blade slowly on the mantle. Karl waited till she moved her hand away from it and then sat down too, relaxing his grip, and continuing to rock his child.

"Well then...Mabel you said?" asked Greta with a smile.