The Witch of the woods.

His dream was nothing like any other dream he’d ever had, nor could Lucan make any sense of it. It did not even feel like a dream, instead it seemed as if he wasn’t even asleep at all. His eyelids felt so very heavy that he felt **** to keep them closed, yet the darkness that now prevailed sent cold shivers down his spine. For a moment he attempted to move his body, but that too felt heavy, as if a mountain lay on top of his chest. Whilst straining and grunting Lucan tried to muscle the weight off of him and move his body, yet all his attempts proved fruitless. Still, he did not feel altogether unpleasant, besides the dark of course. His body was warm, a comforting warmth and a soft breeze flowed freely through his chestnut hair. When he stopped trying to move Lucan began to feel how very comfortable he truly was and with a deep breath he started to enjoy the calmness around him.

“Oh how long it has been since a traveler happened upon my home, but tell me tall stranger, what be your business in my forest?” The voice came in sudden echos and seemed to flow into his ears as rivers disappear into caves. It was a smooth voice, a woman’s voice and completely unlike the ragged old screech his mother used to use when speaking as the witch in her stories. For from the moment Lucan heard the voice speaking to him, he knew that it belonged to the woodland witch. “My, my, what a handsome stranger you are…” The voice kept creeping closer, until Lucan could hear her breath fog his mind.

Though his eyes remained closed he managed to part his lips and so attempted to answer the Witch’s question. “I-I’m Lucan, I’m a soldier of the Western Army, my commander sent me to look for the woodland witch. I suppose that is you.” After he had spoken Lucan silently cursed himself and his lack of proper formalities, though he had no clue how to properly address a witch of the woods.

“A soldier aye? Come to beg for my favor? Or are you here to burn my home and banish me into the abyss, all so you and yours can build another one of your great, grey fortresses?” Her voice ringed in his ears, with a sudden angry edge to it. The witch crept ever closer, Lucan listened to her footsteps approaching him.

“Me? I would not dare, oh great witch of the woods, I am simply a set of legs sent to prove your existence, besides that I have not been commanded to burn nor banish, simply to see if you are real and the stories true.” With a thump Lucan felt the Witch jump him and land on top of him, her legs straddling his stomach, her hands pressed into his shoulders. There was no hope for pushing her off of him, as his limbs still refused to move even an inch. Fear struck him now fully, where before he had been rather curious about the whole affair.

With his eyes closed Lucan felt the Witch’s face mere inches from his own, the tip of her nose grazed his ever so slightly. Again she spoke, her voice now no more than a whisper; “Well, real I am, Lucan of the Western Army, but how do you presume to prove it to your fellow men..?” This he had not yet thought of, though Lucan had never been much of a thinking man.

“Perhaps I could take you with me to meet my commander? Cormac is a gruff sort of man, but knows his manners and all. I’m not sure what he wants from you, but surely it’d be a good idea to go and ask, right? And after I’ll bring you back home myself, It was a long walk but I’ll carry you if I must, feeling you sit on me now I can tell you’re light as a feather. It’d be no trouble, honest.”

Perhaps his words caught her by surprise, for when Lucan was done speaking, he could hear a small giggle tickle his ears. The witch loosened her grips on his shoulders, stopped squeezing his sides with her thighs and sighed. She moved her face slightly back and in the same smooth voice as before, spoke again; “Open your eyes Lucan of the Western Army.” The moment the words passed her lips Lucan felt his strength come back to him, his limbs seemed like his own again and the weight on his eyelids lessened. Slowly he opened them…

At first the light was too bright for him to see, but after some blinking and curious staring, a clear image began to appear. Above him he saw a face, a face the color of grassy meadows, with eyes black as coals and hair the shade of red a thousand roses could not replicate. Though it seemed rather strange at first, the more Lucan looked at the witch smiling down at him, the more he began to think how much her features suited her. Her smile was bright and pretty, her cheeks full and nose cute as a button, even though his mother had always described witches noses as long and crooked. Lucan began stumbling over his words, wishing to say something to her, but stammering instead. The Witch did not seem to mind and sat back on his waist. She was but a small thing, as Lucan had guessed. Standing up she might’ve barely reached the bottom of his chest with the top of her head.

As he began to move his arms again, he felt them brush against her legs, which sent unexpected goosebumps down his spine. The witch seemed to notice too, as she looked him in the eye and regained his focus. “I think we should strike a bargain…”