Forever Green

~13~ Red is the Rose

A feather-soft rustling sounded in the darkness. Dull, muted sounds grew gradually sharper and colors danced behind closed eyelids.

Theiden inhaled, and was greeted with the familiar scent of wool and wood smoke. Gradually, he opened his eyes.

He was lying on a small sofa in a room with gray stone walls and a large auburn fire roaring in the fireplace. Someone had draped a patterned blanket over him, and Theiden pushed it off as he struggled to sit up. He was warm—too warm. Sudden realization of this fact had him craving the cool air of the outdoors, or at least a glass of water.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a bright-red teacup was pushed into his line of vision, grasped by a slightly-wrinkled hand with gold-painted nails.

Theiden gave a start and looked up, only to find the older witch, Kivirra, leaning over his shoulder with an amused glint in her eyes.

"Don't worry," she said. "I've made him promise not to bite. Drink up! It's only water."

Hesitantly, Theiden took the offered beverage and glanced at the contents. Only red porcelain and the clear liquid she had promised gleamed back at him, trembling slightly in its vessel.

"It's...not a goblin?" Theiden asked, noting that the cup had the same gold filigree around the rim and base as the one that had showed up at Lenesa's doorstep.

"Oh, he is," the witch promised slyly, coming around to sit beside him on the sofa. "But he'll only change to his goblin form once night falls. And there will be no snarling as you drink—this one knows his manners. Gil, on the other hand, still needs to learn proper etiquette. But he's the most adventurous of the bunch, and so carries out the messenger duties."

Theiden cautiously brought the cup to his lips and took a sip, expecting a red, fanged face to reflect back at him at any moment.

Nothing happened.

Spurred on by his thirst, Theiden quickly downed the rest of the contents, and Kivirra took the teacup out of his hands when he had finished.

"Good boy," she crooned, and it took Theiden a few startled seconds before realizing that she had been speaking to the teacup, actually, and not him.

Kivirra stroked the cup and set it on a small table next to the sofa.

Theiden cleared his throat. "What happened?"

"Oh, well..." Kivirra waved a hand as though the question was unimportant. "We cleansed the body of dark magic, and you passed out, it seems. All the spellcasting probably made you a bit lightheaded—it happens to some who are unaccustomed to it. Lenesa and I brought you back to my home for a bit to recover before your return. Normally I wouldn't have agreed to such a thing, but for you, I made an exception. You have a very...alluring aura."

At her words, the witch extended a hand to pat his knee reassuringly, though her touch seemed to linger a tad longer than necessary before she finally withdrew.

Theiden eased away and glanced around the cottage uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. The first thing he noticed was the color—red, everywhere he looked. A thick red-and-gold rug covered most of the stone floor, and the furniture set in the kitchen area consisted of three burgundy stools and a matching table. A scarlet cloak with swirling golden embroidery hung on a hook by the door next to his own borrowed cloak, and a pair of crimson gloves was sticking half-out of the pocket.

Looking down, Theiden discovered that the witch was even wearing ruby-red shoes. They peeked out from beneath the hem of Kivirra's black robes and glistened in the rosy light from the fireplace.