from above, coasted to a tree branch near Vivi, and gave her a reassuring caw.
Within minutes, Juniper and Honora joined them in the woods. On foot, they circled the immediate area the sheriff had pinpointed on the map, where the magic stain had been discovered, but there was nothing—no remnants of soot or blood salt, no scorched circle, no sign of anyone.
Lance spread the map out in front of Vivi. “Any ideas?”
Her confidence shaken but not discouraged, she searched for a solution. She would have to find the witch the old-fashioned way and do a little detecting of her own. “I haven’t gotten any sense of her. We’ll have to do a foot search of the area.”
The sheriff drew his finger across the rough surface of the map. “We have a five-mile circumference radiating outward from where the magic was detected, so we need to split up to cover the most ground. Honora can explore to the east by air. Vivi can go north. Juniper and I can investigate west and south. This is a ‘search and report back.’ If you find anything, don’t touch it.”
Vivi pulled a chunk of quartz from her pocket and rolled it around in her hand to help her focus. Rumor cawed from his perch up in the trees to let everyone know he was there. She glanced up. “The raven can alert us if we find something or if anything goes wrong.”
“Sounds good. Let’s get moving. We head out, and no matter what, we circle back and meet up again in two hours,” Lance said, and the group dispersed.
The forest floor was littered with blackened logs and jagged stones, some as large as boulders, protruding dangerously from the ground. Vivi walked for a few miles, switching back and forth in long lines to cover the most ground. The only sound was her leather boots tromping through the leaf debris. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Frustration filled her. She tugged a thin vial from the bandolier of potions strapped to her chest, pulled out the cork, and poured the liquid onto the ground where it evaporated. A pungent scent of sandalwood rose up in a cloud of amber smoke.
The potion was a simple one, used for finding lost objects. The smoke was supposed to indicate the direction to whatever she was looking for, or at least it always had when she was searching for her keys. The smoke withered and dissipated, being swallowed by the Dire Woods. She got nothing—no indication or impression. She felt foolish. One tiny potion was not going to find a kidnapped witch.
Vivi focused, drawing on her persuasion to guide her. Her head ached. It felt like she was digging for something crammed into the back of a drawer, something lost and forgotten. She tried to call her magic forward, to draw it upward from the base of her spine. She pulled and pushed, focused and begged. She pleaded with the small spark of magic, but it was like yelling into a dark and distant place and no one answering.
What had she expected? That she was going to pull up a vision from the dark pit of her subconscious and dazzle everyone with her wise foresight?
Vivi had neglected her persuasion for so long, how could she expect it to respond now, on command, when she needed it most? Magic didn’t work that way. Performing magic demanded practice, patience, and daily work. No flick of the wand or whisper of spells made it jump to life unless the witch had trained. That was why it was called witchcraft, because magic needed to be honed like art, respected as a gift, and nurtured like a child. It was special and would not respond to idle commands, no matter how good the intentions.
Her magic abandoned her, just like she had abandoned it.
Vivi sat on a large boulder and ran her hand through her hair. Defeat was not a state she was comfortable with. She got up and walked on with a mixture of sadness touched with shame welling in her heart, because now an innocent witch would pay for the fear and neglect she had for her persuasion . She had been afraid to see, and now her intuition was blind.
Rumor
Within minutes, Juniper and Honora joined them in the woods. On foot, they circled the immediate area the sheriff had pinpointed on the map, where the magic stain had been discovered, but there was nothing—no remnants of soot or blood salt, no scorched circle, no sign of anyone.
Lance spread the map out in front of Vivi. “Any ideas?”
Her confidence shaken but not discouraged, she searched for a solution. She would have to find the witch the old-fashioned way and do a little detecting of her own. “I haven’t gotten any sense of her. We’ll have to do a foot search of the area.”
The sheriff drew his finger across the rough surface of the map. “We have a five-mile circumference radiating outward from where the magic was detected, so we need to split up to cover the most ground. Honora can explore to the east by air. Vivi can go north. Juniper and I can investigate west and south. This is a ‘search and report back.’ If you find anything, don’t touch it.”
Vivi pulled a chunk of quartz from her pocket and rolled it around in her hand to help her focus. Rumor cawed from his perch up in the trees to let everyone know he was there. She glanced up. “The raven can alert us if we find something or if anything goes wrong.”
“Sounds good. Let’s get moving. We head out, and no matter what, we circle back and meet up again in two hours,” Lance said, and the group dispersed.
The forest floor was littered with blackened logs and jagged stones, some as large as boulders, protruding dangerously from the ground. Vivi walked for a few miles, switching back and forth in long lines to cover the most ground. The only sound was her leather boots tromping through the leaf debris. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Frustration filled her. She tugged a thin vial from the bandolier of potions strapped to her chest, pulled out the cork, and poured the liquid onto the ground where it evaporated. A pungent scent of sandalwood rose up in a cloud of amber smoke.
The potion was a simple one, used for finding lost objects. The smoke was supposed to indicate the direction to whatever she was looking for, or at least it always had when she was searching for her keys. The smoke withered and dissipated, being swallowed by the Dire Woods. She got nothing—no indication or impression. She felt foolish. One tiny potion was not going to find a kidnapped witch.
Vivi focused, drawing on her persuasion to guide her. Her head ached. It felt like she was digging for something crammed into the back of a drawer, something lost and forgotten. She tried to call her magic forward, to draw it upward from the base of her spine. She pulled and pushed, focused and begged. She pleaded with the small spark of magic, but it was like yelling into a dark and distant place and no one answering.
What had she expected? That she was going to pull up a vision from the dark pit of her subconscious and dazzle everyone with her wise foresight?
Vivi had neglected her persuasion for so long, how could she expect it to respond now, on command, when she needed it most? Magic didn’t work that way. Performing magic demanded practice, patience, and daily work. No flick of the wand or whisper of spells made it jump to life unless the witch had trained. That was why it was called witchcraft, because magic needed to be honed like art, respected as a gift, and nurtured like a child. It was special and would not respond to idle commands, no matter how good the intentions.
Her magic abandoned her, just like she had abandoned it.
Vivi sat on a large boulder and ran her hand through her hair. Defeat was not a state she was comfortable with. She got up and walked on with a mixture of sadness touched with shame welling in her heart, because now an innocent witch would pay for the fear and neglect she had for her persuasion . She had been afraid to see, and now her intuition was blind.
Rumor
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