"Do I really have to go with you?" Mnou groaned in front of the house at the edge of the village.
"Yes, you have to," insisted Esme, even stomping her foot to emphasize the urgency of her words. It came off more adorable than strict. "You promised me yesterday that we'd go see Azra and I could introduce you. You promised!"
Mnou sighed and regretted agreeing to it the day before. She just wanted to cheer up the girl and had said yes to visiting Azra and his family. There was no backing out now. With a heavy sigh, she forced herself to knock quietly, hoping that maybe no one would be home. I don't want Esme to think I can't keep my word, she thought.
Her wish was not granted. Just a moment later, the door flew open with such force that it knocked the witch's hat clean off her head.
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry!" exclaimed the woman standing in the doorway. She was about the same height as Mnou but clearly older—maybe in her thirties. Her hair fell to her waist and shone like black satin. Her face had delicate features, a small, elegant mouth, and hazel eyes.
Before Mnou could react, the woman snatched up the hat and began fussily brushing it off while mumbling apologies.
"I'm so clumsy. I'm really, really sorry."
"It's alright," said the witch curtly, reaching out to take the hat that was still being overly pampered. The woman noticed her gesture at last, gave the battered old hat one last glance, and handed it back with an apologetic bow.
"Um, how can I help you?" she asked after the slightly awkward incident.
"I'm here... for a visit?" the witch said uncertainly and looked at her apprentice to explain the situation.
"This is my master, Mnou, the one I told you about," Esme said brightly, stepping out from behind her mentor. "We came to visit and help with the celebration preparations."
"Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you! I've heard so much about you from your apprentice," the woman said with genuine excitement. "I'm Ruth."
Mnou shook the offered hand and even managed a polite smile.
"Please come in, we're just about to have lunch. We'd be delighted if you joined us," Ruth said, waving on them to come in. Esme didn't hesitate and marched right in. Mnou trailed behind, trying not to show her reluctance.
"Azra, come say hello to our guests," Ruth called out the window. "Esme's here."
Azra burst in through the back door and eagerly greeted his friend. Then he noticed the other guest and looked at his mother and Esme with alarm. He remembered the witch very well.
"Oh, come now," his mother nudged him. "Where are your manners?"
"G-good afternoon," the boy mumbled, avoiding Mnou's gaze and hiding behind his mother's skirt.
"Please forgive him," sighed Ruth. "He's just shy around strangers."
"It's alright," assured the witch, now remembering what she had said to the boy the last time they met. A wave of shame crept over her like evening chill.
For lunch was fish soup with vegetables. The atmosphere at the table was a bit tense. Esme chatted with Azra, but it was clear that his smile was a bit forced. He was still nervous around Mnou. She didn't blame him. I'll apologize after lunch, she decided.
"I heard you only recently took Esme on as your apprentice," Ruth tried to break the awkward silence. "How are you getting used to that?"
Mnou sipped her soup and savoured the taste before answering. It was really good.
"Well, it was a bit of a shock," she laughed. She was glad the hostess was trying to break the invisible but palpable wall of tension. "I've never done anything like this before and…" She paused and glanced at the children, who were deep in conversation. Then she leaned closer and whispered: "To be honest, I've never been good with kids. Never really liked them."
"I understand completely," Ruth smiled back. "I felt the same once. I didn't even want children at first." She blushed and checked that the children weren't listening.
"And what do you think now?" Mnou asked, genuinely curious, as she helped clear the table.
"Now… I adore them," Ruth said with a glow as she looked over at Azra. "A mother can't help but love her children. They're so innocent and wonderful and adorable. So much better than us adults. They don't worry about the past or future. I admire that. I'd love to also have a daughter someday."
The witch watched her with fascination and suddenly felt immense respect for her. Ruth reminded her of her own mother. That made her a bit sad.
"I'm sure you'll grow fond of them too. Your apprentice is a sweet, clever girl. And… she really loves you."
"I know," Mnou murmured almost inaudibly.
"Are you alright?" Ruth asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder when she saw how pale she looked.
„Yeah, I'm fine," Mnou said with an honest smile. „I'd like to get to know you better, Ruth," she said suddenly, with a faint blush creeping up her cheeks.
„Oh, I'd love to," Ruth replied delightedly, and returned her smile.
After lunch, the mood lightened, and the four of them went out to the field behind the house. Ruth explained they needed to make straw wreaths for the village festival. There was still plenty of straw left, arranged in neat sheaves like soldiers on parade.
Azra ran off with Esme, but Mnou called after him.
"Azra!"
The boy turned and looked fearfully at her. He nervously clutched the edge of his shirt.
"Don't worry, you don't have to be afraid," she reassured him gently. "I just wanted to tell you something." She stepped closer and knelt to meet his eyes. After a moment of thought, she spoke. "I want to apologize for what I said the first time we met. I know you remember it. I understand why you've been afraid of me, and I don't blame you. But… I'd like us to start getting along. What do you say?"
The boy glanced up hesitantly and saw her warm, sincere smile. She offered her hand. Though still shy and nervous, he took it. She gave it a gentle squeeze.
Azra quickly ran off to join Esme, who was already buzzing with curiosity about their conversation. Mnou stood and brushed off her skirt, watching the kids laugh and play. She had to smiled again.
She and Ruth sat down beside a sheaf of straw and leaned against it. It was itchy and scratchy, but they didn't care. They enjoyed the smell of hay. Ruth expertly began weaving, and Mnou clumsily followed suit. Ruth eventually had to give her a short lesson, or no one would wear Mnou's wreaths. She explained patiently and encouragingly, like she would to a child. The witch didn't mind and listened closely. Soon she got the hang of it.
"So, are you looking forward to Iuvefalé?" Ruth asked, her hands still skilfully working.
Mnou had to keep her eyes on her weaving but answered. "Well... I wasn't really planning on going. Festivals and holidays… aren't really my thing."
"What?" Ruth raised an eyebrow in surprise. "But it'll be so much fun. There's always dancing, singing, lots of drink. They always serve the best aged mead. You must try it."
"Um, that's kind of what I'm afraid of," Mnou laughed nervously. "Alcohol hits me fast and... I don't have great memories of it."
"I think that's true for most of us."
They both laughed. But suddenly Ruth started coughing. It wasn't just an ordinary cough, like when you choke on saliva—her whole body shook, the cough roaring in her lungs like a storm. And it didn't stop.
"What's happening?!" Mnou cried, catching her as she collapsed into her arms. Her mind raced with panicked thoughts.
The woman finally stopped coughing, now only gasping weakly for breath.
"Should I get help?" the witch stammered, brushing Ruth's hair from her pale, sweaty forehead. She was about to run for help, but Ruth stopped her.
"No, it's okay," she said weakly, trying to steady her breath and trembling body.
"But…"
"No, please. It's alright," Ruth insisted. She slowly sat back into the hay. "I just need some water."
The witch grabbed her staff and a small empty flask from her belt, always ready for collecting herbs or liquids. She filled it with clear water and handed it to the pale woman, watching her nervously. Ruth gulped it down greedily, water running down her cheeks, then started coughing again. This time, it passed quickly.
"It's alright, I just choked on water this time," Ruth said with a faint laugh. Mnou didn't find it funny.
"Could I have some more?" Ruth asked, handing back the empty flask.
"Of course, but this time drink slowly, okay?" Mnou said gently, taking the flask. Suddenly she noticed something warm and sticky on the flask. It wasn't water. She stared at it in shock—it was blood. Her eyes moved to Ruth's hands. They were stained with the same crimson liquid.
"You… you're coughing up blood," she said, horrified. "Have you seen a healer? Do you know what's happening to you?"
"No one but my husband knows. It only started a few weeks ago. I've always had weak lungs, but the blood... that's new."
"Weeks?!" Mnou cried. "You should've gone to a healer ages ago!"
"I know," Ruth said sadly. "But we're very not wealthy. We can't afford medicine. Dago's been working nonstop to earn enough."
"I'm going home right now to make you some medicine. I'm no apothecary, but I know a thing or two about herbs," Mnou said resolutely, getting up to leave.
Then she felt a tug on her skirt.
"Please Mnou, would you stay just a little longer? I'm not ready to stand yet."
The witch sat back down, letting her head fall into the itchy straw. She sighed. I can't leave Azra alone. I won't let Ruth die.