“Loretta…” Meducia cooed.
Loretta rolled away from the voice, pulling her blankets high. It was too early for her games. Too early to learn more. She had been up half the night with the awful woman’s latest foul potion, stewing away. The addition of two cups of bat pupils near the end had created such a stench that it was a wonder it didn’t still permeate every pore in the wooden hut’s walls.
“Loretta.” Meducia repeated, more firmly.
The one-eyed girl considered her position. On the one hand, if she answered the witch, surely she would get thrown into one task or another. Some mean-spirited and ugly task, designed with the particular intent to scold her for being ‘such a lazy child’. On the other, if she pushed her luck hard enough and long enough, it was just possible she might finally make the sinister old bat snap and kill her. Plus, she’d get more time in bed. It was certainly the more appealing of the two options.
Blood oozed slowly between the fingers of the girl’s right hand and slid down her bare arm, a crimson slash against her skin, tanned nut-brown by the prairie sun. Her breath came in shudders and gasps, but she did not cry out, though tears rolled down the other side of her oval face, co-mingling with the blood that dripped from the tip of her chin.
“Ahhh. I see you’re done. And how did the ritual go, my sweet?” Continue reading →