Chapter 7

The blacksmith was not happy.

He stood in the doorway to his workshop, his large muscled arms folded over his black apron. He glared at Marcie as she walked away, she could feel his dull blue eyes boring into the back of her skull, fuming that she had haggled him out of a dozen arrow heads for an incredible small price. Iron ore was rare in the forest and most of it was brought to them by the traders. The blacksmith divided it into its different uses; nails and building materials arrow heads and other. When ore was low, they used flint, which was common in the forest but they rarely had to resort to that.

She waved over her shoulder at The Blacksmith, which caused him to slam the door so hard that the little pane of glass at the top smashed, she smiled.

She was in a good mood, the prospect of getting away from the villagers in the freedom of the forest filled her with an incredible sense of peace, it had done ever since she was young. Not even the prospect of entering the cave and facing the unknown beast could dampen her spirits.

It was with a sense of purpose that she walked away from the blacksmith, her pack filled with all the provisions she would need, baring the meat that she would catch herself.

The village was very contained, most of the shops and the houses were situated around the main square, the homes became less dense and less closely packed together the further away from the square you went, but all lived within sight of The Great Hall. Marcie and her father were not the only people who ever dared to live almost separate from the village, but they were the only ones who lived so far from it.

The other person was Widow Dafne, otherwise known as The Witch, it was here that Marcie went to next.

It didn't take long to get to her home, but Marcie always got excited when she went, Widow Dafne's house was beautiful.

It sat nestled in the side of the valley wall, almost the same distance from the village itself as Marcie's own home, only not so isolated. All there was for the passer-by to tell it was a house was the large wooden door and small window built directly into the mossy rock. A tiny water fall ran down the face of the rock a little away from the door and this landed in a small well, which became a small stream which ran right across the path of the door and was crossed with the help of round stepping stones, the door was solid oak and had no handle, only a large brass knocker shaped like a large serpent.

Whenever Marcie thought of home, beside her own house, she thought of this door built almost naturally into the rock and of the peaceful sounds of the water trickling by.

She stepped onto the stepping stones and lifted the brass tongue of the snake head, knocking three times as she always did.

The door swung open and she was greeted by a cloud of smoke and a harsh raspy voice.

"Get in, get in and shut the bloody door girl, you'll let the fumes out"

Marcie shut the door quickly and waited a moment for her eyes to get used to the dimly lit, smoky room.

It was surprising how much room there was. She was in a large open area floored with warm stone, with almost nothing in it except a large bed with clean linen sheets which sat in the middle of the room with a chair next to it, a few herbs hung from the White washed walls and ceiling, in which there were small holes cut deep in to the rock which allowed a tiny amount of light to come in from the surface, in the corner a small cauldron was boiling away over a stove, it was from this that the noxious smoke was coming from.

Marcie waved a hand in front of her face and coughed. The smoke had a strange nutty flour to it, it made its way inside her mouth and immediately coated the roof of her mouth, she gagged and tried to breath as little as possible.

"Dafne? Where are you?" she choked,

"Ang on to yer socks girl, I'm comin" the voice answered. A minute later, from an opening along the far wall, she emerged.

Widow Dafne was known as a Witch in the village, although the term was placed loosely, and her appearance did nothing to counter it.

She was very short for someone born in The Village, a whole head and shoulders shorter than Marcie and skeletally thin, her hair was pure white and was cut quite short, the ends barely tickling her chin, her cheek bones were high and looked very sharp, her lips were thin and bloodless, her face was surprisingly wrinkle free but yet she still looked old. As always, she wore a long black dress which covered her completely from neck to floor and wrapped around her like a second skin, emphasising her extreme thinness and making her pale skin and hair stand out in stark relief against the material, over the dress she wore a layered black apron containing many pockets filled with any manner of things that Marcie could not possible know all the names to.

On a whole she was a fearsome sight, one look at her approaching figure was enough to send fully grown men trembling to their mothers. But it was her eyes which held the most amount of fearsome power, they were a startlingly pale blue, so pale they almost appeared white and so piercing they seemed to see straight through you.

Dafne put her hands on her bony hips and glared at Marcie in a way that would have made her seem harsh and unkind, but Marcie had grown used to the older women's ways and she knew to not expect any display of affection from her.

"What time you call this girl, couldn't seen me soon you got back could ya" she said crossly

Marcie winced, "Sorry bout that Dafne, listen I got some stuff to get-"

"An yer goin off again!" she cried "Without so much as a hai how'r you, you got no manners girl"

Marcie sighed and looked at the ceiling, "Hai how'r you" she said, not looking down.

Dafne snorted

"Its alight for you, you dan't live lone, don't get lonely like I do"

"If you got lonely you wouldn't live in this bloody awful cave"

Dafne glared some more "Don't you go tellin on my cave girl, this ere cave a palace compared to that shit you live in"

Marcie laughed and went over to give her a kiss on the pale skin of her cheek,

"Sorry for not seeing you as son as I returned" she said and she meant it, Dafne grumbled discontentedly.

"So what's that?" Marcie asked, pointing at the cauldron which was starting to boil over, inky black liquid oozing over the sides.

"Oh that" Dafne said, scratching her head with one long bony finger, "Um, got rats, tryin t'make em more...agreeable"

"With what" Marcie asked, staring suspiciously at the liquid which continued to belch the horrid smoke around the room.

"Jus a little somethin ah cooked up"

"Poison!" Marcie exclaimed

"Ang on to yer socks girl, aint gonna kill em, what would ah do it they dead eh? Nah, this ere just ta stop em nibbling on me bed sheets" Dafne said, waving her hands dismissively "Now what stuff you want"

Marcie listed the things she needed, coughing occationally to clear the taste of the smoke from her mouth, Dafne listened and nodded, unbothered by the effects of her Witch brew.

"I've got all that, but not sure bout the last one, gonna have to hunt fer it in me stocks" she beckoned with a crocked finger and Marcie followed her into the rest of the house.

While the front room was made for guests and those who needed treating, the rest of the rooms were strictly private and so they were not at all clean or tidy, the first room was packed with floor to ceiling shelves containing books and trinkets and papers, the stone floor likewise was littered with papers and open books, which Dafne kicked or swept away when she moved across the room to the large oak table in the middle. From one of the pockets of her apron she withdrew two delicate china cups with thin handles shaped like rose stems,

"You stay for tea" she commanded

Marcie smiled, despite how she acted, Dafne really did get lonely, Marcie was the only regular to her Little cottage, the rest of the village only ever came if they had no choice and had exhausted every other option.

She poured the tea from an equally delicate china tea pot while Dafne lit a candle and descended down a narrow flight of steps that led to an underground cellar where she kept all of her potions and ointments.

Marcie sipped her tea and browsed the shelves while she waited, she was just finishing her tea when one of the books caught her eye.

It was on the top most shelf in the far corner, it was far larger than any of its neighbours and written down its spine in large faded decorative letters was its title, 'MONSTERS'.

She nearly dropped her cup.

She controlled her breathing and felt her heart slow down, she checked the stairs that Dafne had gone down but she couldn't see or hear anything past the darkness, so she dragged her chair over to the corner of the shelves and stood up on it.

The book had a thick layer of dust on it and it smelled old, it was surprisingly heavy and she grunted under its weight, she dropped it onto the table where it landed with a surprisingly loud thud, the cover was made of calf skin and was worn and frayed at the edges, but apart from that it was in quite good condition.

She flipped to the front page, but was disappointed, the book was in the old language and although she could understand it when spoken and speak it herself, she had no idea how to read it.

She flipped to the next page and found a small picture of a woman with a fish tail instead of legs, she raised her eyebrows at the picture then turned to the next page, despite the book being in the old language each description came with a beautifully sketched drawing of said creature.

She was halfway through the book when Dafne finally emerged from the cellar, moaning about her aching knees, she placed a number of jars and bottles on the table, "There I got you your stuff, why you want liquid fire any who... girl, what you got ere?"

She stopped and peered at the Monster book, Marcie held it up so she could see the title on the spine.

She grunted "Oh aye, that book ain't seen the light o day in many a moon" she paused "Wat you wanna know bout monsters any how" she said, "It ain't got nothin to do with this beasty you ran into is it?"

Marcie froze, she stared at Dafne who just looked at her, expression unreadable, she opened her mouth to ask how she knew about that, but thought better of it, Dafne may hardly ever leave the safety of her home but she always seemed to know everything that went on. Maybe she really is a Witch Marcie thought.

She shrugged and mumbled "Just interested"

"Well, you aint gonna find anythin from there, all in oldy language init" Dafne said, Marcie shrugged and looked back at the book, she could feel Dafne's piercing eyes on her and she had to consciously make herself look at the picture on the page.

She had come across the very middle pages in the book, across both pages was a large sketch was a strange scaled creature with wings and a long neck with a large head attached, its wide jaws were open and its long teeth were bared, from between them the artist had drawn spirals and swirls and then a crudely drawn man holding a sword, he seemed, from the little black circle drawn in place of his mouth, to be screaming. Maybe the swirls were meant to symbolise fire? If so, how fearsome must the creature be to be able to breath fire.

She squinted at the name of the beast at the top of the page but could not make it out,

"That there's a Dragon" Dafne said, leaning over her shoulder squinting at the page, "Used to be loads of em, all gone now"

Marcie turned the page and pointed at the picture of a man with the legs of a horse, "What's that?"

"Oh aye, that's a centaur, part man part horse, they be real smart and strong, good with a bow too, but not real friendly cause they be between two worlds, ours an animals"

Marcie stared fascinated, she glanced at Dafne, "How comes you can read the old language?" she asked her "Ain't nobody I know who can read it"

"Pah" Dafne waved her hand like it was nothing "I ain't readin it, I knows it up ere" she tapped the side of her head "An I ain't never gonna forget it, now move over an let me tell yer alls that Dafne knows" She nudged Marcie out of the chair with her bony hip and heaved the book in front of her.

Marcie left come time later, having spent that entire time listening to Dafne spew her knowledge of mythical creatures until her mind was so full of information that she couldn't think straight, at least now she had some ideas of what the creature in the cave could be, she shivered a little.

She had needed to go and see the old women, not because she needed to know more about monsters that wasn't the reason she had gone, but because Dafne never judged her or scolded her, well, yes she scolded her all the time but only about silly things meant as affectionate admonishments. Her company was welcome and free of expectation or quiet wonderings.

Marcie hefted her pack higher on her shoulders, she had all she needed for a few days hunting, she took a deep breath and started on the path that would take her to the forest.