Anya

The thick slap of ferns grazes against our legs as we trudge through the forest, the ever-growing shadow of the canopy harrowing above. The snaps of twigs are harsh on our backsides as we push forward.

Fiery red hair whips my face as my feet strike the earth, twigs on tree branches catching it and pulling it out of the ribbon I’d tied it in. We cannot afford to slow our pace with the enemy so close on our heels.

They are so near us, so close I can almost smell them. The tinge of their hatred is heavy on the wind as they hunt us like rabid dogs.

What fools they are, mistaking us for dogs when we are the wolves that rule this forest, and they are little more than lambs to the slaughter.

They shuffle through the forest, searching for us, screaming at each other over the distance, trying to corner us against the trees.

“Over there! Do you see them?” a guard calls.

“I see them! Take formation!” another bellows, and my blood runs hot. Their end is fast approaching, and they don’t even realize it.

I turn to my mother, awaiting her signal.

“Run,” she hisses on the wind.

At this moment, she looks fierce as a wild cat, the soldiers mere deer under a mountain lion’s gaze, as if nothing can ever come close to touching her. My chest swells with pride to call myself her daughter.

Running as fast as my feet can carry me, I reach out, taking my mother’s hand to drag her with me into the relative safety of the trees.

We know these woods far better than any soldier trussed up in finery, riding aback a terrified horse.

Crunch.

I hear another snapping of twigs, and my head darts toward the right.

The castle guards are near—they must believe they have us cornered, but that only proves their folly and conceit. Their silent nods and gesticulations do not go unseen.

I watch them through the bushes, shaking my head.

They are hunting us like a game in the wild. They wish to extinguish us, to snuff out the magic that flows in our veins, and I cannot let that happen.

“There’s no clear way out.” I turn to my mother.

“We can’t stay here.” Her voice is calm in the wind.

“There! Over there!” a guard shouts, pointing in our direction.

"It’s now or never." My mother rubs her fingers across my knuckles, giving me a nod, and I know what’s next.

We’ve participated in this same song and dance so very many times before, and it always ends the same way.

I let out a deep breath and feel the power coursing through my veins.

“Die and be silent as the gods, witch!” a voice sneers through the shadows, and I leap to the side.

The soldier smacks into a tree, his legs kicking out wildly as he curses.

“Abominations like you belong in the fire!” His face is sick with prejudice.

My stomach twists up in knots of both fury and anticipation.

The hatred of the supposed “civilized man” never fails to astound me. We have done nothing to incur the ire of the kingdom, and yet, the soldiers keep coming. It’s no matter. I will fight to survive, for my mother to live, as I always have done.

I see the gleam in his eye as his lips curl back.

"You will die here today, witch." Blood drips from his bruised lips as my eyes bore into his.

He freezes in shock, mouth moving as if to speak, but I do not give him the time to spit more insults.

My skin ripples as the magic courses through me.

“End this, Anya. Put him out of his misery.” My mother’s voice is like ice on the wind as she glares into the man’s eyes.

“Yes, Mother.” I gasp as the source of my power consumes me.

Electricity fills my veins as the shock ripples across my flesh. Never do I feel so whole and free as I do when casting magic—it’s more natural than breathing, my body a conduit to give shape to the storm within.

"Stand back," I growl at my mother as she steps aside, eyes filled with pride and apprehension.

“Do it, my dove.”

I nod and raise my hands to the sky.

Crack.

Giant roots burst through the forest floor as the bowels of the trees breach the surface, encompassing my enemies and snarling them up in their twisted coils.

“No, stop!” the man screams as he reaches out toward his fellow guards. “Not like this.”

The roots of the trees grip him and his companions tightly, dragging them to the earth’s floor.

“Perfect,” my mother snaps. “Now, we have the upper hand.”

She raises her arms to the sky, shouting words in a language with which only we are familiar.

“Protect us,” she spits as she crashes her fists into the earth, a billow of dust and debris clouding her vision.

All around me, the bodies of our enemies disappear in a plume of fire and smoke, their screams dying on the wind as it increases its intensity.

My eyes fill with pride as I marvel at the sight before me. It is not often these days that my mother puts on such a display, but it is not often that the castle guards get so close.

One of them had even looked into my eyes, struck dumb by the sight of me. Qhy?

Moments ago, he’d been so sure of his mission, but something about my face put him off his guard, and he died for it.

Perhaps the sight that I am as human as any civilized woman shocked him, the pig.

“These men would have killed us. They would have defiled you, tormented you, owned you.” My mother’s eyes are cold as they flick from the ashes of our enemies to me.

“I know why we do what we do.” I shake my head, looking away as my heart rate slows, feeling the rush of battle begin to leave me.

We were just out picking berries, minding our own business. It didn’t have to be this way. Those soldiers could have left well enough alone, but they didn’t. They never do.

So, in return, we did what needed to be done, as we always will.

"You did well, young one," my mother chirps, shrugging her shoulders as she steps over their ashy remains.

Warmth floods my face as I’m filled with a sense of pride.

“You would be wise to remember this moment.”

This is not the first time my mother has praised me for ending a life. In fact, a deep, searing sense of relief courses through me as I look around at the carnage at my feet.

This is not an abnormal occurrence. My mother often sings my praises when I use my powers to protect us.

She knows what my skills are best suited to, and they have kept us alive. After all, it is she who trained me.

I owe it to her to prove that her words of wisdom have not fallen on deaf ears, that I am worthy to call myself her daughter.

“Why does the castle keep sending their soldiers out to find us, just to watch them die?” I ask after what seems like a thousand years.

“The kingdom considers magic a grave sin.” My mother clears her throat. “It doesn’t matter if it comes naturally to us, it doesn’t matter if we can’t help it. They will never accept us. They think of us as an abomination."

“I understand that.” I sigh in disbelief. “But why keep sending them? Do they not care about their soldiers’ lives? We keep killing them, and yet they still come. Why?”

“I don’t know, my sweet dove.” My mother affectionately tucks my hair behind my ear, offering me a soft smile. “But we’ll keep fighting back as long as it takes for them to leave us in peace.”

I nod grimly, looking at the burnt remains of our foe.

“Why don’t we move?” I can’t help but feel like the little girl I once was as I look at my mother, my belly full of apprehension.

“Leave the home I raised you in?” She raises a brow, weathered hand resting on her hip. “Why ever would we do a thing like that?”

“It seems foolish to remain here, knowing we’re under constant threat.” My bottom lip slides between my teeth—rarely have I ever dared to imply my mother the fool. “My apologies, I just don’t understand—”

“Hush now, child. All will be revealed in the end.” My mother scoops me into her arms, brushing my hair with her fingertips.

I close my eyes and sink against her chest, letting the warm feeling of her heartbeat comfort mine.

I am not content to keep running forever, but I cannot tell my mother about my fears.

If she knew I doubted her, what would she say?