Not until late

It was well-past nightfall when they returned. The torches had been lit, and the little witches had long since been put to bed. Mollina was sitting near Celladryn's shrine, absently stringing beads together as she talked with Tythere. Tythere fidgeted with her hands, as she always did when she was nervous. Pan saw Mollina pass along some of her beadwork to the younger witch, and an uneasy smile passed between them.

Friends of yours? Tasmin asked. I can feel your fondness for them.

It was true. Pan's heart fluttered when she saw their familiar faces; she was glad to be home. Tythere was the first to spot her. A bright, genuine smile spread across her face as she leapt up to greet Pan. The glow of the torchlight cast a ghostly pallor on her, as if she were some spirit come to rebuke Pan for fucking in the woods all day. Tythere threw her arms around Pan's neck, bringing her in for a hug.

"Finally! I thought you had run off to go be a towngirl somewhere!" Tythere laughed, taking a step back to look at her. "So? How did it go?"

Pan hesitated. How was she supposed to answer that? She was not even sure herself how it went. There had been no parting words between her and Kethaeros, no farewell wishes, not even an 'I'll see you again'. That troubled her the most.

Tythere's smile disappeared. She searched Pan's face before asking again: "Did you like him at least?"

That too caught Pan off guard. She had been so preoccupied during their time together, she had never even thought to ask herself that. Pan thought back to their meeting, the way he spoke to her, the way he handled her. Yet one thing had a stranglehold on her memory: his eyes. Pan felt a chill run through her as she remembered his eyes, wild with a fierce intelligence and alight with mischief. Most of all, she wanted to see those eyes again.

"Yeah... I think I did," she finally admitted. "I just hope he liked me."

Tythere's smile returned. "Silly, that's what's bothering you? He didn't draw your name out of a hat you know- oh! And who's this?"

Tythere knelt down on the ground in front of Tasmin, holding her hand out to the fox. Surprisingly enough, Tasmin placed his paw gingerly in Tythere's hand. He even wagged his tail.

"My name is Tasmin. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said. Pan was taken aback at hearing his voice out loud for the very first time.

"Oh! The pleasure is all mine," Tythere said, beaming. "I'm Tythere. Pan is a very good friend of mine, please do your best to keep her out of trouble, okay?"

"Certainly, you have my word," Tasmin said, without even a moment's hesitation.

Mollina made her way over to the group then, with Lucen perched protectively on her shoulder. The torchlight caught in the gold of her eyes gave them an otherworldly glow, but Pan saw the fatigue behind them. Suddenly Pan felt guilty for taking so long to return.

"Your familiar is so well-mannered," Mollina said, shooting a tired smile in Pan's direction. "Pleased to meet you dear. You'll have to forgive me - bending over is difficult these days," she said placing her hands on her swollen belly.

"Not at all, you have my apologies for keeping you up so late. And my congratulations, of course," Tasmin said, bowing his little head.

Pan frowned. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but given the hour she thought better of it. She did not remember Mollina looking so worn down, or maybe she had never noticed. Either way, she did not like what she was seeing.

"Panphrey." Pan snapped up to look at Mollina. The matron witch only smiled. "You've had a long day. Meet me in the morning and we can discuss what's changed?”

Pan smiled back, a weight off her heart. Yes, it could wait, if just for the night.

"Yeah, of course. Get some sleep okay? Staying up this late probably isn't good for the baby," Pan said.

With that, she bid Mollina and Tythere a good night before scooping Tasmin up and heading in the direction of her own cottage. It stood by the southern edge of the village, with a mobile made of blue jay feathers hanging by the purple door (she had painted it herself), and a small spice garden along the side. The cottage itself was tiny, but it was hers.

Here in the village, girls separated from their mothers at sixteen and were given their own accommodations under the expectation that they would manage their own home and become self-sufficient in the four years before they were eligible for Binding. Pan's mother had passed when she was six, leaving her to be raised by the late Hippolyta. Only half of the Celadon witches had actually been born in the village. The others came from surrounding towns as orphans or exiles, just as Pan's mother had.

Pan pushed open the door and stepped inside. With a wave of her hand, a fire sprung to life in the hearth and the candles lit themselves in greeting. Pan set Tasmin down on the bed before moving to her cupboards.

"I don't suppose you'd be interested in some tea?" She asked.

"I'll pass, thanks," Tasmin said aloud. He kneaded the quilt with his little black paws. "This will do me nicely though."

"Just don't rip it please. It was a gift," Pan warned as she hung the kettle over the fire. "Are you sure I can't get you anything?"

"Stop fussing."

"I'm not! I just want you to be comfortable..." After living on her own for so long, the thought of having a companion made her heart flutter. She enjoyed a quiet night of reading just as much as any witch, but having a sassy fox around to break the monotony would be good for her, she thought.

Pan sat beside Tas on the bed and gave him a gentle pet. Tas grumbled something unintelligible as he scooted closer, snuggling into Pan's thigh. She smiled. Then her smile slipped away as she recalled Tasmin's earlier words.

"When we were in the woods, you said you hadn't been around long enough to have a name," she started. "What did you mean by that?"

One amber eye cracked open to look up at her, before closing again. Pan watched her hand rise and fall with his breaths as it rested on his side. Laying here, like this, he was just like any other animal. The warmth of his fur, the beating of his heart all belied the fact that this was indeed a Spirit.

“Well," Tas sighed, "When you finally woke up, I had only been around for a few hours or so."

"Right, but where were you before that?"

Tas turned to look up at her, giving her his full attention. "I wasn't."

Pan stared down at him for several long moments. "You mean, you didn't exist?"

"Mhmm."

“That's awful!" Pan sputtered, lifting her hand to wave it in distress. "So you have no memories? No family, no friends?"

"I have you."

That stilled her. She was touched, but her heart still ached for the creature. Then, as if someone had wrapped a warm blanket around her mind, she found her concern melting away. The aura was recognizably Tasmin's.

"Don't fuss over it," he said softly. "Your companionship was all I was ever meant to know anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Familiars aren't like other spirits," he explained. "Familiars come into existence when witches are Bound. We are... conceived, during the Binding. We only exist as a manifestation of that pact. Think about it: it's not a coincidence that I'm a fox, when Kethaeros is... well, fox-adjacent."

Pan considered this very carefully before speaking: "So you're like... our baby?"

If foxes could have a pained expression, then Tasmin was in agony. "I'm your familiar. Not your baby."

"Are you sure? Because it sounds like you just said you're my baby."

"Pan, please-"

Pan's giggles were cut off by the whistling kettle.