Nobody knew where in the forest the witch lived, just that she lived there - and oh, how the people in the village longed to know where in the forest the witch lived. If that knowledge was commonplace, then the villagers were sure that by now, the witch would long be dead.
Except she wasn't, and so no-one entered the forest - not the living, nor the dead.
It was almost as if nobody wanted to find out. If the villagers could just put that particular problem to the back of their minds, then maybe everything would be okay. The witch could just stay in the forest, the villagers in the village, and everybody would be happy. Except that nobody was happy. Not the living, not the dead.
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At the edge of the forest, as close to the trees as one dared, a girl lived alone. She hated the witch, more than anyone in her village. A long time ago, her father had ventured into the forest; he wanted to rid the people of their terror - and kill the witch. He failed, and became the last man ever to try. Now, nobody dares search for his murderer. Not the living. Nor the dead.
Except the girl. Bent on avenging her father's death, she packed a small bag with a few possessions and set out into the murky woods. Her teal hair was pulled into pigtails either side of her head, and it stood out starkly - too bright against the darkness of the forest.
She was Hasune Miku, and she was going to kill the witch that murdered her father. Determination pulsed through her veins. Nobody would stop her, not the living, nor the dead.
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Crunch, crunch, crunch, went the leaves under her boots. Snap, went the occasional twig. Miku adjusted her bag against her back nervously. Shff, shff, shff, went her skirts as she walked through the forest.
Why did I wear a skirt for this? Miku wondered, her eye twitching as the offending skirt snagged on a passing branch. She pulled at it irritably - then watched in horror as it ripped, thorns on the branch easily tearing through the fabric. Miku cursed loudly, and a few birds overhead burst into flight at the sudden sound of her voice.
She hadn't really counted on her skirt ripping. She'd expected this to be a quick job, that she find the witch's lair easily, burn it down, spill as much of the witch's blood as possible, and be home in time for dinner. Now, she saw that that was a foolish notion. Miku had been in the damned forest for two hours now, and not a trace of witch was to be seen.
She stopped walking. Her skirt stopped shff shff-ing, twigs stopped snapping and leaves stopped crunching under her feet. She looked at a tree close to her contemplatively for a second, beforw drawing her fist back and slamming it into the trunk as hard as she could. Her fist made an odd, sickening crunching sound and Miku's shrill scream split the air. Pain shot through her hand and she cradled it, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
"What am I doing?" she muttered through gritted teeth as she nursed her (probably broken) hand. I don't belong here, she thought. Only two hours in and she already had ripped skirts and a broken hand. How was she supposed to kill a witch if she couldn't even get through the forest to the witch? Miku fought back tears, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in her hand.
"Maybe I should just... give up," she whispered. Her head suddenly shot up. "No," she said. "No. I am not giving up. I am not stopping until..."
Until that witch is dead.
And so she continued. Leaved crunched, twigs snapped and her ripped skirt continued to shff shff shff as Miku walked on and on through the seemingly endless forest.
She continued to ignore the pain in her hand. She also continued to ignore the increasingly uneasy feeling in her stomach as she trod on. How long had it been now? Three hours? Four? She didn't know.
Hunger gnawed on her stomach, and she pulled a wrapped piece of bread out of her bag and ate it, the continued walking, crumbs dusted to the floor.
She was so tired. Every step hurt, every breath exhausted her more.
Eventually, she reached a clearing. A woman - a girl - was stood in the middle of it with a basket full of flowers. Miku stopped. The girl looked only slightly older that Miku herself, and so she found herself wondering just who this girl was and what she was doing alone in the depths of the forest. The girl straightened up, and looked directly at Miku, her mouth immediately forming an 'O'. Her pink hair fell over her shoulders as her back straightened, and Miku stared at it, at this girl. Who was she?
Miku took a step forwards, stumbling slightly as a wave of exhaustion-induced dizziness overwhelmed her. The girl reached out with her arms, as if to catch her, but she was too far away.
With a jolt, Miku noticed the cottage that peeked out from beyond the clearing, and realised that this girl must live here. She opened her mouth to ask the girl if she knew of a witch living around here, when it hit her. This girl - this witch - this was the one who killed her father.
All exhaustion forgotten, Miku saw red. Fumbling with the dagger tied around her belt, she managed to free it, and held it in a hand trembling with rage. She sprinted across the clearing, adrenalin fueling her sudden desire to cut this girl's throat out.
All of a sudden, Miku was on her, dagger slashing down in an arc. The witch caught her hand, taking a few steps back. Her eyes were wide with what looked like fright, but the teal-haired girl didn't care as she continued to attack with a frenzy. She kicked out and caught the witch on the shin with her boot, and the witch staggered and cried out. She tried to say something to Miku, but Miku was so consumed with rage that she heard none of it as she struggled to pull her hand out of the witch's grasp.
"Let go of me," Miku spat. "Get your filthy hands off me, you witch, you murderer!" Finally freeing her wrist, she stabbed the knife down, but it missed, and simply tore the witch's sleeve. "Why won't you LET... ME... KILL... YOU?!" Miku punctuated each word with a slice of her weapon, but each missed its mark until the last, which cut a line down the witch's torso. Blood bloomed through her dress like a red flower, standing out amongst the green.
Miku went white, and she tasted bile in the back of her throat. Maybe I really don't belong out here, she thought, dropping her blood-stained dagger to the ground.
She'd just hurt someone, badly. Was this the first time she'd ever inflicted a wound like this? She didn't know. It's too late to back out of it now, she thought, and tried to pick up her knife. The world chose that moment to spin wildly, though, and Miku fell with it, down, down, down into darkness.
