Annise lived in her own house, made special for her when she became pregnant with her first child. That first handful of residents of Redhaven thought it fitting that their leader had a place to call her own after she’d carved out a living for all of them. With its own small garden and attached still room, it was as nice a place as any for her to have raised five daughters and a son. They were all grown now, and Annise lived alone on the edge of town, quietly and comfortably.

The witch had once offered Annise a place with her in the forest, at least while her children were too busy being young to care for her. She’d suggested magic to extend her life. The old woman had scoffed at her notions of prolonging things and given her an earful. The offers were never made again. Annise was happy to live in the village, aging with it. That had been years ago, and now the urge to make the offer again welled up in the young witch.

Annise’s granddaughter Clara left her at the door, hugging her near-godmother. A quick squeeze of the hand and she was off, back to the women’s quarters to allow the two their privacy. The door was unlocked and Yongsoon slipped into the cottage without invitation and only the mildest trepidation.

Her cottage was dark save for the firelight of the hearth. It was warm too, hot even. Annise sat by the fire in a nightgown, one she saved for special occasions. It seemed to swallow her thin form. No wonder the fire was built up so warm.

“Hello, dearheart,” said the old woman quietly. Her voice was still hers, low and beautiful. It did not croak and squeak like the other crones the witch had met.

“Hello, beloved.” She felt like she filled up the cottage, loomed even, compared to the small frail woman her Annise had become. She pulled off her flowing cloak and hung it by the door. It helped a little, bringing her back down to size. She knelt before the grandmother, between her and the fire, resting her head in her lap. She could feel her bones though the softening muscle of her thighs and the wispy thin nightdress. It hurt her to feel how diminished her lover was becoming.

Soft hands stroked Yongsoon's black hair, soothing the witch as she might one of her many grandchildren. Annise was old, older than most people lived to be. Her age made the witch ache, her mortality pushing against the witch’s unnatural youth. There was a tremor in her hands that the witch had never noticed before.

“Soon?” asked the witch, looking up from the woman’s lap.

“I’m afraid so. This will be my last winter, I think,” Annise replied wistfully as she looked out the window. She was so calm, so accepting of the finite nature of human lives. The witch did not understand, but she was young and would be for a very long time. The witch heaved a great sigh but said no more about it. They’d spoken about it too many times to do so again. Not when time was short.

“Shall I begin then?” She didn’t wait for a reply, simply standing and pulling out a tin of salve from her bag and a small knife. The old woman stood, straight and proud, diminished in physicality only. She reached for the buttons of her nightgown but younger hands brushed hers aside.

“Let me,” murmured the witch. Deft hands undid the buttons until the cloth fell away, pooling around her feet. Annise’s lip quivered but she stood still as her friend gazed at her body. There were old scars and bones that had not always jut out so. Where there was once full, firm muscle, now only softness and bone remained. There were fresher scars too from where they’d cut away her flesh to save her life from an illness that had grown within her and spread quickly. After that, she’d never quite recovered.

Pulling back, the witch set to work preparing the salve and Annise sat, back to the fire to keep warm. The salve was already mostly prepared, ready save for the activating ingredient, which she supplied fresh. The knife was sharp and sliced her fingertips cleanly. Blood welled up quickly and she dipped her fingers into the tin, pulling up a generous amount of the salve. It glowed faintly golden on her hands and she dabbed great globs of it here and there.

She kissed the old woman’s hands and then worked the salve into her skin, massaging her joints as she went. Up her arms, to her shoulders and neck, down her back and over her ribs. Where she laid light kisses, her hands followed, spreading the glowing salve across the whole of the woman’s body. The face was last, and she was gentler there, spreading the mixture with her thumbs in circular motions.

“I’m surprised you’ve kept up with this all these years. It must have become less enjoyable for you as time took its toll on me. Especially after the amputation. You had been such a fan.” She joked as she traced the still prominent scars on her chest. The witch frowned, taken aback by her jibe.

“It saved the life of the woman that I love. What do I care for easily discarded flesh?” she replied dryly. With a stern expression, she lifted the older woman’s chin to look her in the eyes. “You are as beautiful to me now as you were when you were young and buxom, stealing men’s gold and hearts along the highway.”

Tears welled in the matriarch’s eyes as her oldest and dearest friend leaned in for a kiss. It was chaste, but held much love. The tears did not fall and the witch was glad for that, as she did not especially want to cry in front of Annise. After helping her back into the nightgown and finding her a robe, she sat her old friend down on a bench before the fire so she could comb and braid her hair.

“What will you do when I’m gone, dearheart?” This was met with silence. The witch did not want to think of what she would do. Probably slip away into the margins to wallow. Or hide away in Ciribaal’s home until her heart recovered. Perhaps test the limits of her kind’s immortality. She did not know what she would do when fifty odd years of friendship, love and caring came to an end. The village would likely be fine without her. The witch’s fearsome reputation kept most intruders away and the villagers were quite capable of taking care of themselves at this point. Not like those first years, when the woman had barely managed to make it through the winter without intervention. She had worked miracles and spilled blood those first years.

“Soonie?” Annise asked impatiently. The witch grunted in reply to the pet name, carefully braiding the silvery hair so as not to pull it. “What will you do?”

“I don’t know. But I won’t let the village dissolve into chaos. It was your dream to make a safe haven for people. I’ll keep it safe for you,” she promised.

“Your dream too, I thought.” Annise leaned back against the short woman, letting herself be folded up in the witch’s arms.

“My dream was to be what you needed me to be. After you’re gone, I’m not sure what that will mean.” They were quiet for a time, taking comfort in each other’s presence. The witch thought there was little use in talking about the future. It would come with or without her consent, and she would not know how she felt about it until she was there.

The moon shone brightly through the window, and after Annise had been dozing for a while in the witch’s arms, she thought it best that she get home. Her gifts had likely already been carried up to her house and for once she was grateful, instead of feeling like a burden. Her heart was heavy enough a load tonight.

She carried the sleeping form of her old lover to bed, tucking her in gently. Annise smiled up at her, taking the witch’s small hand in her bony grasp.

“Think about your future, for me. I’d like to know that you have a new dream before I go. I don’t want to spend the afterlife worrying about you and thinking I tethered you to a place you were never meant to be chained to. The world is wide and wondrous and you’ve seen so little of it. It’s important to me, Yongsoon. Promise me you’ll think on it.”

The witch hesitated. She could feel the cracks in her heart beginning to widen. The future loomed and it was terrifying. But Annise was asking, so she could not refuse.

“I promise.”