The Fae Witch || Twilight

01

Music of the Day
Eyes of the Forest by Brandon Fiechter
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CYNTHIA'S heart was pounding. She burst through the tree line north of her cottage, tip toeing closer to her picket fence. As she inched closer to her lattice archway, she took the time to admire the new blooms. Vines had grown through the lattice, braiding themselves in a beautiful design. The new blooms were fresh, they weren't there yesterday. This was definitely the work of Faelynn.

Just as she passed under the archway, the culprit plopped down on her head. His small body latched onto the top of her head, shouting in victory.

"Gotcha!"

Cynthia squealed playfully, throwing herself to the stone path. She pretended to groan in agonizing pain. "Man, down! Man, down!" She reached for Edgar, the culprit, who had jumped off to the path. He stared at her with a bored expression. Her eyes had a misty look to them. She continued in a whisper. "This is it, this is how I die."

"Why are you like this?" Edgar's deep baritone was filled with ironic monotony.

Cynthia feigned a hurt expression, her hand flying over her heart. "I'm playing with you."

Edgar crossed his tiny arms. "You're depressing me."

Edgar's height reached no higher than Cynthia's calf, gnomes only grew to 14 inches tall. His hair and beard were a bright, apple red, disheveled and unkempt. Even though he looked done with her at the moment, his sky blue eyes still twinkled with mischief. He wore a forest green shirt, the fabric tough and worn from years of travel. His brown trousers in the same condition. His most remarkable feature were his suspenders. They were white with orange polka dots. Cynthia had found them in the little boutique in town one of the few times she went there. Edgar hadn't taken them off in two years.

Gnomes are deeply earthy creatures, they inhabit underground- especially in mines or caves- where raw garnet and other gemstones may be. They have a temper, they can be fierce and irate, and should be approached with caution and sincerity.

"Fine, you, party pooper," Cynthia drawled out. "How 'bouts you an' me make some supper?"

Edgar rolled his eyes, leaping up into her arms as she stood from the ground. He nestled in the crook of her elbow, bouncing as she trotted inside.

The cottage was a decent size. The front door was wider than your normal door, made of pine. There was one window, taking up the majority of the top half of the door. Bells hung on the doorknob, jingling loudly as the door was opened and closed. The loud noises keep the negative spirits away. Upon entering the kitchen, there was a small, wooden island that was covered in home grown herbs and flowers. Straight ahead, she had a one compartment sink. There was a small casement window just above the sink, with grill design. It was an extremely old cottage; every hinge squeaked, every floor board creaked. Cynthia turned to the left of the island, pulling the previously thawed chicken from the fridge. Edgar bounded across the island, landing lightly on the window sill. He pushed open the window, signaling to his Fae brethren that it was time to help.

Wisps flew through the window, barreling about the house. As Cynthia was preparing the chicken, she heard a tiny giggle behind her. "Is that Faelynn I hear?"