The Origin of Isaac

IV

They set out early, having a light breakfast and packing nothing more than a day's provisions of bread, cheese, and water. Lucena threw on a flowing, green cloak, the hood kept down so that her long hair wouldn't be constrained. Isaac wasn't sure exactly how old his mother was, but from the current date and the dates recorded in the journal entries, he'd concluded she was somewhere upwards to one hundred twenty years old. Yet, she looked about as young and as fit as a woman one hundred years younger. Isaac knew that living that long, especially in these times, was next to impossible, and to look so young at that was pure magic. Magic, he thought. Could magic have somehow kept his mother so young? If magic can do that, he couldn't even begin to imagine what other wonders it could do.

They traveled through lush green forests, over top fells, through brush, and underneath canopies. Isaac was able to mark the point we're he had never past when he saw fast flowing stream up ahead.

"Go on, take drink. Best we keep moving before night. It get's. . .a little nippy." He trotted up to the stream, the cool, sparkling water rushing past his fingers and and toes. It soothed his bare feet, and not wasting any time, he dunked his face into it, slurping up long gulps before rising, gasping and wiping his face. "Mind you don't drench yourself! That's a good way to get the wet lung."

"Ey, mum! Is it true that witches can't pass over running streams?"

She looked down at the stream, frowned, then shrugged. "I don't know. Guess we'll find out." She inched to the water's edge, staring hesitantly at the fast running stream. Isaac watched in apprehension, expecting her to take one step in and immediately recoil. Instead, his question was answered when an explosive splash of water totally drench his trousers.

"Haha! I had you fooled, didn't I?! Looks like the streams got nothing on a witch." She grinned and stomped around in the stream like a child. Looking down at his soaked pants, Isaac frowned and continued on.

"Come on mum. Best we keep moving before night. And mind you don't drench yourself. A good way to get wet lung, that is."

"Is that sarcasm I'm detecting? My, my, such a fresh little boy!" She grinned and followed behind him.

By the time they stopped for a break, the sun was already beginning to set over the horizon, painting the sky a brilliant magenta. He watched the dancing, swirling colors as Lucena unpacked the bread and cheese, fixing together an impromptu supper. They ate in silence at first, passing only swift glances between one another. The crickets had started singing by now, and the owl had joined in on the concerto, the song of nature like an intimation that the night was upon them.

Isaac took a hearty swallow and brushed his hands off. "What was it like, mum?"

She finished chewing and brushed her hands together. "Well, my master had me navigate my way out of the woods in the dead of night. With nothing but my two hands and the memorization of my spells."

"Huh?"

"You wanted to know what my time training in Romania was like."

He tilted his head and raised a brow. "How did you know I was gonna ask that? I thought seeing in the future was impossible?"

"Mother's intuition. And also I know you were reading my diary!" Isaac's face flushed with embarrassment. "Not to worry, if I didn't want you reading them, I wouldn't have left them on the table!" So she had been the one to set everything up. Isaac was becoming more and more convinced that the witch did have some form of omniscience that she'd so slyly left out of her records.

"Ok. . .so, what was she like? Your master, Lucretia Marrowbeck?"

"Ah, old Lulu. . ." She stared up at the sky, studying the stars, "she was a fart. A big, stinky fart. And she smelled like fish." The witch brought her knees to her chest and twiddled her thumbs. "But, she was right. Right about everything. Don't abuse your power, she said. Don't let them normies see ya' using it, she said. Don't hang around those red-eyed folk, neither."