I shivered, feeling the brisk morning air dampen my hair as I pulled up my collar. Every snap of twig under my boot gave me pause; the ones in the distance setting my nerves on end. I didn’t know this place and certainly not as well as the village witch. 

‘Suspected witch,’ I corrected internally, muttering under my breath as I took heavy steps and long strides over shrubbery and fallen logs. I could hear a stream nearby, wondering if I was even headed in the right direction.

My worries faded as the crowded trees gave way to a small clearing. I stumbled to a stop just before the edge of the trees. I felt my breath catch in my throat, ducking behind a large tree trunk. 

I hadn't really been expecting to find Lyn, and certainly not see him only a few feet away. 

In the thick blanket of myst, Lyn knelt in front of a wide stump at the center of the clearing. Twisted roots sprung up from the earth, spreading out like great tentacles towards the forest ring. 

I watched him, a hand over my mouth to silence my breathing; I was thankful he had his back to me, his dark hair glinting green in the mingled shadows of the forest. 

The pale sunlight glimmered off something metal in his hand, a shallow bowl he placed carefully on the dead wood. My heart was pounding like a drum as I watched him fill it with something from a small black bottle before pinning some kind of paper to the wood with a small, silver knife. Lyn reached into his bag again, adding a tapered white candle and sprinkling a ring of salt around the edge of the stump.

He sat still for a moment, staring at what he had buried the knife through, before lighting the candle and bowing his head. His voice was a soft murmur, the words indistinguishable past the rustle of winds through the leaves– but in a moment of stillness, I was sure I heard Collin’s name. 

My hand slipped on the dewy bark of the tree. Sliding forward my foot automatically took a step, catching myself from falling at the cost of a resounding snap. 

It echoed through the clearing, Lyn spinning around to shoot daggers at me with those deep brown eyes, just as mine widened. “Ethan Lennox?”

'Shit.' 

Lyn stepped back, shifting in front of the display he’d created, as if trying to hide what he’d done. “Did you follow me out here?” His voice was dark, frosty, his expression cold- but there was a flicker of worry in his eyes as he scowled at me. 

I clenched my fists at my sides. My mouth was suddenly dry. I thought about lying, telling him I hadn’t, but I knew that would only end in disaster. There was only one reason I was standing in the middle of the woods, and I was looking at him. "Yes, I did," I admitted.

“You told me you weren’t going to be any trouble, and then stalked me into the woods? If you’ve been listening to the rumors, you must have heard how dangerous that’s supposed to be– the forest isn’t a safe place for people who don’t know it well.” It sounded like a threat in those velvet tones.

Suddenly his candle-lit ritual seemed more ominous. 

I cleared my throat, nodding. What could I say? "I… I have heard the rumors. And the police questioned me last night. About you." I somehow couldn't meet his eyes. Should I have really been telling him all this? Should I have felt threatened?

“They did?” Lyn sounded shocked, before his expression quickly soured again. “Of course. The whole damn town wants to pin this on me, they wouldn’t stop at just questioning me. So do you believe it was me? Did you follow me out here to find proof? No doubt you want to be the hero who turns in the witch,” he scoffed, shaking his head. 

Was that what I wanted? Was that why I was out there? "Is there proof to find?" I hadn't meant to say it out loud, regretting it the moment I saw the look on his face. All I really wanted was the truth. 

“You could search for hours and never find anything. I keep telling people, I had nothing to do with this!” Frustrated, Lyn pushed loose tendrils of dark hair back from his face. He stared at me, eyes dark and conflicted, before turning and gesturing at his things laid across the stump. “Look all you want. If you think a candle and a bowl of milk with honey is what made Collin disappear, turn me in- but I didn’t mean any harm when I came out here this morning.” 

Lyn swept up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll see you in class- or in cuffs, whatever comes first,” he muttered, not sparing me another glance as he stormed past me into the trees, no doubt headed back for campus. 

I closed my eyes, sighing. Somehow I'd managed to do more harm than good yet again. 

Was it fair for me to make such assumptions? I didn't know anyone in the village, least of all Lyn. I stepped forward, looking at what had been left on the tree stump. He was right. It was just a small bowl full of some pale liquid, a bit of candle wax, and a picture of Collin. I took out my cell phone, snapping a quick picture before I turned my back on the makeshift ritual. 

The rest of the day I spoke to no one, keeping only to myself as mulled things over in my mind. None of this was about me...but my curiosity, my history, it all made me want to know. 

I wanted to solve the mystery, not of the missing boy that everyone kept talking about… but the mystery of Lyn Weir.