Nota bene: the chapter features mature themed conversations!

I was very nervous when I woke up: I could not immediately understand where I actually was. I slept for too long that’s why my whole body was heavy and disgustingly lazy. The wooden shutters were wide open, which gave the room fresh forest breathing. By some fantastic coincidence not a single mosquito bit me during the night. If you think about it, there were no insects in the house at all, and this was with an open window and in the middle of a dense forest!

The witch was not there.

I luxuriate being in bed, lightly running my hands over my breasts and tummy, imagining how great it would be to be in her arms right now, how great it would be to wake up in her arms. Forever in her arms.

But the witch was not there.

These uninvited thoughts about her made me wide wake. I didn’t take off the clothes she gave me, and now I’m rumpled and disheveled. I wanted to make myself look presentable, but the wooden basket lay empty on a wooden bench. I slightly smoothed my thick hair, still feeling shifters’ twigs woven by Hebe.

I got out of bed, but gasped feeling unpleasant stiffness in my foot. Damn, I completely forgot about it! But I had no one here to pretend to be a sissy... So strange, as if it has gone dead. I gently sway from toe to heel, pretending to do some physical therapy exercises for preschoolers, but it helps and brings my foot to life. Having walked a little like a ghost around the old house in search of food, I came across a clay jar covered with a white towel with a red "birdie" ornament. Yuck! It’s cottage cheese... disgusting.

I was tragically poking with a wooden spoon, that was kindly provided by someone, in the white ugliness of cottage cheese. I swallowed one lump like it was my medicine (What if this is my last meal? And what if it was poisoned by witches? Pfff. Who cares: it already tastes like poison!). I stuck the spoon into the substance and headed towards the wellingtons that were waiting for me at the very entrance.

It is unusually quiet outside: not a single bird is singing as if it’s autumn, but the weather and nature of the "sleeve" are absolutely summer like. And there's this feeling, like everyone has already dead, and I am left alone in the middle of a huge creaking and sighing forest.

It was hard to say if she would ever come back. The witch did not leave a note or wake me up. The hare could be right: she might have found better entertainment for today. His words pushed me to scout the area. I decided not to go far from the hut and find where the lake is: it is not far from the Green Navel and the portal to my bedroom.

I walk, looking around, and not because I don’t want to lose the sight of the hut, but because some nasty feeling that someone is watching me is not leaving my mind. My nerves. Just my nerves.

I placed my bun on a nice tree stub. I am not sure if I should go further: it is springy and squelchy under my wellingtons, and my feet began to sink a little. Further away there is a carpet of low, soft moss that is so typical for swamps. I tried jumping from bump to bump, but I quickly lost my interest in this activity. Chewing bitter cranberries, I feel like Katniss. The main thing is that the wild rosemary (it is also called marsh tea, as far as I remember) is nowhere around. I’m not sure the way it looks, but Danya’s grandmother told us that she breathed in its dangerous pollen when she and her little friends were gathering marsh berries; soon afterward she felt very giddy and nauseous.

"Hi, my little shape-shifter!" I turn around abruptly, hearing a familiar voice. "How did your mistress leave you all alone! She did not want to share you with me, but at the same time she does not pay due attention to her beautiful pet! Shame on her!"

I quickly get up from the stump and turn in the direction of the hut, intending to leave without engaging in conversation with her, but she appears in front of me as if by magic.

"Where are you going so fast? I didn't even get a good look at you!" the girl purrs like a cat, but her eyes burn like a real tiger.

"Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night;

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?"*

Now I can see her perfectly well too. Sure thing, she’s beautiful like all witches: the languid, alluring voice, that I heard yesterday, matches her appearance and manners. Her egret-white hair and white eyebrows and eyelashes contrast with her distinctive oriental appearance. All this creates some incredible effect when you can’t help watching her.

"I knew you weren’t a shape-shifter," she smiles, but her eyes remain predatory piercing. "It is clear why she has been hiding you are her tiny  tidbit," she smells the air next to my ear, "because you smell virginity for miles..."

I blush. I’m insanely ashamed, and I want to run away right now. It is always embarrassing for me that being an adult, a university student, I have not slept with anyone. Sometimes I have a feeling that in our modern society it is shameful to keep virginity for a long time, as if something is wrong with the person and therefore no one wants him or her. Only Dasha know about my complete absence of intimate experience, but she piously keeps my grave secret.

"What did she promise you to drag you here? There is no spell on you, which means that you did not come here as a zombie."

"I asked her to bring me here!" I  answer boldly, but immediately regret it.

She laughs unkindly and mean, "Well, well! My little bunny has a sharp tongue, but don't start rejoicing too early! Do you know why virgins are so important for us, humble witches? Of course, you don’t know, you are my unfulfilled shape-shifter," she whispers, looking at my surprised face. "Your "clean" blood is one of the most essential ingredients for powerful spells and potions. To say nothing of your "moon" blood... Witches can do without it, using animals’ blood, but it is not perfect... We are forbidden to take a lot of humans' virgin blood. On the illegal market a couple of your blood drops in a small bubble would cost as much as a handful of rubies. Devil, you, pitiful virgins, stagger in your human world everywhere, and we, witches, have to stab poor lambs! More likely, our precious princess decided to save you for later: to play with you, let you lick her from head to feet, and later use your blood. That’s smaaart. Hats off to the princessie. But I'm smarter," she giggles, covering her pale peach lips with her hand.

I'm stunned. Is that why Hebe is interested in me? Tears are welling up my eyes, but the witch continues ruthlessly, "If you come with me on your own free will, I promise you not to torment you hard, and I will leave all your sweet fingers and ears where they should be," she bites her lower lip, slowly approaching me while I am standing as if in trance being enslaved by her tarry voice.

A sharp lunge of her hand: she tries to grab me by the collar, but then I hear her wild screech which cuts through the deathly silence of the enchanted forest. This brings me to my senses, and I jump, hitting a gnarled spruce with my back.

"Little Cunt!!!" the girl squeals not in a tiger way. She whimpers, trying to lull her hand, which to the horror of the two of us, is smoking and melting like hot candle wax. "I will kill this princess! I swear by Hecate! And as for you, bitch! I will make a stuffed animal of you. Believe me, I will properly disembowel you while you are conscious all the time!!!" furiously hissing, she turns around, makes several powerful leaps on hummocks, and jumps into a small morass covered with soft moss. She instantly disappears headlong, as if a dangerous quagmire has sucked her into its bowels.

I do not move for several seconds. I can't breathe normally, uselessly trying to gasp for air.

Calm down, calm down, don't panic. If you run like a madman, you will break your bones again. You definitely don't need this. The main thing is to get to the hut, lock the door, barricade it somehow, and wait for Hebe. She will definitely come back. Oh, how I want you to come back...

I am marching with a martial gait, trying to persuade myself not to jump off and run towards the house, but for some reason it is not where it is supposed to be. Okey, okey, it is not visible because of the nut trees! Two more steps... Where is it?

I'm spinning round and round, but I can't figure out where I am. When I was sitting on a tree stump, I surely saw a hut.

Over there! It looks like a wolfberry bush that I saw not far from the house! Well, it has to be it! But when I run up, I realize that it’s not what I have been looking for.

"What the hell! Why did you leave?"

I shriek in fear and throw a piece of moss in someone's face.

"What are you doing!" Hebe brushes pieces of my "biological weapon" away and roughly grabs my wrist. She looks angry and tired. "Can you explain what is going on here?" She grips my wrist even tighter.

I happily cling to her without any explanations. She shudders, as if she did not expect me to hug her.

"Why did you leave the hut?"

"I thought you might not come back," I mutter somewhere into her breasts.

"Why did you even think so?"

"But you said it yourself!"

"I didn’t say I’m not coming at all." She is holding my wrist, but not so tight. "Look at me, Velia, and tell me what happened," she touches my cheek with her free hand.

"Nothing," I lie again. I don’t want to get her into trouble, because I don’t know what the white-haired witch will do. What if my responsibility will rest on Hebe’s shoulders. What if the main witch orders to kill Hebe because she brought me into their witch world.

"If you don’t want to, don’t tell me," she gently caresses my cheek. "Sometimes, you have to overcome something alone. And as far as I can see, you are coping with it," Hebe nods at the greenish piece of moss on her black T-shirt. I wish I could take her shirt off...

"Just... just be careful with that white-haired witch we had met before the Sabbath? Okay?" I mumble, enjoying the last touch of her hand on my cheek.

The witch is looking at me attentively, but she does not ask more questions.

"Agreed," she finally answers, mouthing the word. "Oh, I see that fidgety Mika has already been here!" the witch exclaims in a more cheerful and familiar voice.

I’m looking at my collar in surprise. Hebe is turning the piece of the material inside out.

"She attached her charmed doll here."

"A doll?" I ask stupidly. Indeed, Hebe delicately pulls back a little man made of gray yarn, which is attached to the back of my T-shirt with a tiny gold pin. One can understand that this is a little man only by his protruding limbs: he has neither eyes nor mouth. Creepy... maybe it's some kind of Voodoo doll?

"The little brat probably came to apologize for having left you unattended on the hill. She attached a protective charm. I suppose she brought her disgusting cottage cheese too, huh?" We both wince and smile almost at once seeing the same reaction.

Protective charm! So that's what melted her hand! Incredible, such a small thing but so powerful. I didn't even realize that the yarn man was with me all this time.

"Don't take it off," the witch says quietly. "Devil, I should have been the first to figure out and attach some amulet to you for your safety and protection. The little one turned out to be smarter. Perhaps the student has outgrown the teacher," Hebe moves away from me and sits wearily down on the nearest fallen tree.

I hesitate. Then I sit as close to her as I would sit next to Dasha.

"Were you able to find out the details of the murder?" I finally ask her.

"Yes," she responds very briefly. Then she reluctantly continues as if not talking to me but talking to herself. "She was killed by a human. Everyone in the Witch Council is furious. I just came to the very beginning of the performance when I left you in the morning. You should have seen this Circus Maximus! I was hoping it was another accident with an undead," she sighs. "The Great Hunt has begun. Poor Tomma, I can't imagine how she feels now," Hebe mutters, rubbing the bridge of her nose, as if she has been wearing glasses all day.

"Who is Tomma?" I ask carefully.

"Pythia’s partner. They have got a lifetime together... The Pythias are rather weak, unlike the battle witches," she points at her tesak. "Their main strength is foreseeing, well, making good potions too; in battles with strong undeads they are useless. But to be easily caught and killed by a human... It’s nonsense. The Pythias always have partners, guards, if you like. Tomma's job was to protect her Pythia. When she was interrogated, she didn't really say anything about what happened on that unfortunate day. The witch is in such a state as if her soul was taken away, and instead of her there is only a phantom.

"Will Tomma be okay?" I ask fearfully, knowing witches’ temper. "I hope that main witch won't do anything to her?"

"Nah, everyone understands that this is not her fault. I think Tomma will probably take it the hardest: protecting her dear Pythia was her life's work. Don’t be afraid, mama won’t harm her or you. I promise."

"What did you say? Mama?" I asked (I wasn't sure if I had heard right).

"Well, do you remember that bitch on the throne – this is my mother!"

Oh, fff... Mother? Did she give birth to Hebe when she was five years old like Lina Medina? How old are they?!

Hebe laughs, looking at my dumbfounded expression.

"My first meeting with your mother did not go well. I'm sorry... She definitely hates me!

"Come on, she has already forgotten about you. She was just mad because a human killed the Pythia, and you were in the way. Look, are you sure you saw nothing in the sphere? It would be great if you could read it: we would make a good team! What am I talking about..." She covers her face with her hands.

"I'm sorry..." I gently touch her hand.

"Why did you stand up for me yesterday? Fluff bun said enough about me: what a fickle trash I am, and what I will do to you in the end, but instead of being outraged, you paid no attention to his words.

"A woman has got every right to have control over her body. You are not obliged to give birth; you are not just an empty vessel! Unless, of course, you want it... Children and all these things..."

She is silent

*W. Blake