The Witch Within (5 page)

After a long moment of my stubbornly concentrating on where his head turns, he finally looks my way and I again try to grab his attention. He does lock his eyes with mine eventually, but frowns. Perhaps not even my eyes could be considered an asset. Maybe I have no assets at all.

*

In the evening he makes a fire and ties me to a tree. I’ve already gotten used to it. I have even learned how to sit comfortably enough so that I can get a bit of light sleep. I understand that we are still lost, for he seems just as troubled as before. Also, his food supplies seem to be dwindling. He takes out only a few small pieces of bread and starts chewing on one. I watch him and keep thinking about who he really is. He seems like a good man, or at least far better than his lewd brother, that is why I cannot imagine him not feeling guilty about bringing me back to be tortured and killed. There must a good enough reason that has forced him to do this awful task.

He finishes eating one of the pieces and hesitates as to what to do with the other two. I’ve already gotten used to hunger, in fact, I can’t imagine eating anything right now; I’m too worried it might cause me pain or that I would throw it up. I watch him decide between another good deed or perhaps the notion that he has done enough, maybe even too much for his captive. He gets up, approaches me and without really looking at me, he uncovers my mouth and places one piece on my lips. I accept it and start chewing. I realise that I have a unique opportunity to start reasoning with him, let him see that I'm innocent, that we are both victims of the same misapprehension. He splits the last bread piece and sticks half into my mouth and half into his. I keep on chewing in haste, contemplating what to say, how to start. I decide, quite abruptly, that it would probably be wisest to establish a connection first and so I say:

“I’m sorry about your brother...”

My voice sounds funny, because my mouth still struggles with the dry bread crumbs. He looks at me, but keeps on frowning.

“I know you're not sorry.”

He is right. I’m not. It was silly of me to say that. I can’t seem to get through to him no matter what connection I attempt to make. He ties my mouth before I come up with something better or worse to say. I’m angry with myself and murmur something through the cloth; he seems to be fed up with me though.

He moves a few steps away, eases himself onto the ground and looks at the starry sky. I gaze upon it too and notice a half moon. Its pure white light reminds me of something, one of my earliest memories. It was during one summer night, I was about three years-old and I couldn’t fall asleep although it was already quite late. My mother also wasn’t able to rest and so she took me outside to get some fresh air. The moon shone bright, half full like tonight. My mother held me in her arms and we were both gazing up at the clear sky, admiring the beautiful images and shapes above us. I remember how intensely I heard and felt my mother’s heartbeat at that moment and recognised that it was actually in tune with mine. She kissed the top of my head, the place that used to be so soft, and I could feel the warmth of her love flowing through her chest into mine, and spilling all over my body until it covered me in the pure rapture of bliss. I knew at that moment I was fully aware that I had received the melody of her heart and transmitted mine right back to hers. In that short moment we exchanged a unique flow of unconditional love. It was all that I needed to feel peaceful again and so I finally fell asleep and dreamt comforting dreams.

Now I feel cold and scared and anxious about my uncertain future and I would die for some comfort. I turn to my captor and realise that maybe it's not necessary to speak as long as my heart is still beating. Could I connect to the melody of his heart like I did with my mother’s? Then I could sing to it in tune with what is common to both of us – the tune of love that is inherent in our hearts, irrevocably. Would that perhaps be even more effective than any form of verbal expression, eye contact or conscious manipulation? Could his heart hear mine for a while? I suppose I won’t lose anything if I try. I concentrate on the warm vibration that has spread over my chest and try to aim this warmth at his. It's odd how easy it is to send love to my enemy, my captor. Shouldn’t I feel hatred, anger or disgust? Why do I feel bound to him? Why does he seem familiar, although he is a stranger? Is it because he saved me? Or is it because there is no one else around and I desperately cling to another human being for safety? I can’t tell. And perhaps it does not matter.

My heart beats faster as I'm urging my love out. He seems unaffected by it though, to the contrary - he turns away and closes his eyes, ready to go to sleep. Anxiety blocks the flow. I have got to stop being so naive. I'm all alone and I will be until the end of my miserable days. Nobody wants to help me. Most people despise me now. I feel accepted by this forest though, and by my grandmother. My eyelids feel heavy. Exhaustion and dejection have overwhelmed me. I give in to it and I dream only darkness, until I'm woken by a deep, raucous and terrifyingly familiar voice.

“You won’t escape me.”

Daniel is right in front of me. Not a mirage. He is real! I scream through the tight piece of cloth. He laughs at me mockingly and disappears. Nathaniel has woken up and is trying to focus his weary eyes in my direction. I can sense that now I have finally captured his attention. He gazes at me as if trying to read me, but then he turns away again, like he always does and I'm left alone with the fear that has trapped my soul in darkness. I look up at the moon, hungrily seeking light. It soothes me and in fact, it starts to feel like I'm connecting to a dear old friend. It brings tears to my eyes and I can’t seem to stop weeping until I fall asleep again.

*

A spark of light awakes me. As I'm recovering from the short loss of consciousness, I'm guessing it’s the sun, but find out that it’s actually still the moon. It shines so bright that it has woken me for a second time during this long night. I turn a bit, just as far as the rope allows and notice that Nathaniel lies very close to me, deep asleep. He is facing me with his characteristic serious frown. He looks like a child who clings to his mother for protection. He seems harmless, vulnerable, and peaceful.

If only we had connected before I became a criminal on the run. If only he knew who I really was. If only he would change his path and decide to help me. I find myself lost in the complicated shapes of his face for a while. Would we fancy each other if we were introduced under ordinary circumstances? Could I like him? I’ve never really been interested in any boy before. I have found a few handsome, but that was about it. This is different though, this man is different, I just can’t understand how. He remains unreadable, just like my odd feelings for him.

*

The cold morning sun fades into the mist and it starts to drizzle. I dread becoming wet and cold under these uncomfortable and painful conditions, but also appreciate the water on my lips and the cleansing streams that wash away all the dreadful dirt and sweat. I only wish it could also wash away my fear.

Nathaniel has probably found the right path, because he strides more confidently, not halting any more. The rain is growing heavier and soon stops being soothing. I can hardly see through the pouring water and with each step I take, my feet get stuck in mud. Nathaniel finds an open rock slide and hides underneath it. I hurry to stand next to him and move a bit closer, drawn to his body heat. He moves away from me agilely as if I was some horrid creature. That causes me to lock my heart in an even deeper anxiety. I feel so unwanted, unappreciated, unneeded. Perhaps there is no reason for me to stay alive—I seem to make everyone uncomfortable anyway. In my lonely despair, I squat down with my back to the rock and start squeezing my skirt to drain out the rainwater. Nathaniel’s eyes lie upon me and linger. I look up surprised only to find that he is not interested in my face, but my chest. The water has revealed the outline of my breasts. I can feel the blood pumping into my cheeks and quickly hug my knees. Nathaniel turns away. He is apparently shy, which does not surprise me. I can’t imagine him being as sleazy as his brother. He is very different from that man, I could tell by the first touch and the first time I heard his voice. He has the gift of empathy and is far more sensitive. I continue wringing my skirt, when all of a sudden his cape lands over my shoulders. He adjusts it to my shoulders and then moves away, gazing out at the pouring rain. Was that another good deed or has he simply hidden the object of temptation?

“I think I know the way now. We should be out of the forest in two days, at the most.”

The words strike me. Just two more days to live. Or two days left to fight. Will I end up in a cold rotten vault for the rest of my life, or will I be tortured and killed? Both options make me sick to my stomach. I can tell that he has sensed the abrupt change in my mood, because in the corner of my eye I detect a sad face. He peeks in my direction, but it only infuriates me now and so this time it's me who turns away, morose and distant.

*

It has stopped raining and hunger forces Nathaniel to go hunting. He is prepared with his bow while I'm, as usual, tied to a tree. He has been hiding in the bushes for some time now, waiting for prey. It makes me anxious, because I feel like prey myself and already pity the poor rabbit, fox or doe that he is about to kill.

I wish I could send a quiet warning through the ground. I remember what the bolets told me, how they live beneath the surface in various spreading roots that secretly rule everything above. I wish I could enter that realm and be aware of that amazing web of knowledge. Something awakes me from my daydream – my deer. Right in front of Nathaniel! I freeze. He seems very calm, looking right into my eyes with his wise, calm expression. I call out a warning through the already wet and chewed up rag in my mouth, but he keeps standing there and Nathaniel is utterly focused, not paying any attention to me. I'm terrified. I can’t lose my guide, my only friend here! But then a strange feeling of integrity spreads over me. Something tells me the deer has shown up on purpose, clearly aware of what he is doing. I focus on him, longing to read his mind. I can sense that he is trying to deliver some sort of a message or advice. Nathaniel rises and draws his bow, ready to attack. I stamp my feet to warn the deer, but he remains standing on the same spot, watching me persistently. He needs to get through to me, I feel, but I still can’t understand what it is that he wants to transmit. Nathaniel shoots an arrow, but misses. He draws the bow again and I stamp my feet even more vigorously. The deer finally sets off and the arrow narrowly misses him by an inch. Nathaniel turns to me, furious.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He moves over to me in a rage.

“You have destroyed our only chance of lunch today! You destroy everything! What are you after, huh? Is this some kind of a devious game? Have you really cast your spell?! Are you really that powerful? Go on then, you bloody witch! Cast a spell on me too!”

He tears the chewed up rag from my mouth harshly.

“Go on! I don’t care anymore! Whatever I do, I fail.”

I finally have the chance to speak now, yet I'm speechless. His pain gushes from his heart straight into mine. I can’t help it; it’s spreading all over me uncontrollably, like an infection. I have always been like that, have always been easily affected by the emotions of others. And the pain I feel now is the sort of pain that eats you up alive, makes you a living corpse. I supposedly killed my brother while actually trying to save him, but Nathaniel killed his brother with his bare hands. His pain is worse.

My foolishness makes me sick. How could I allow myself to think like that? He is a villain, he wants me dead. I should stop humanising him! He is the enemy! His eyes focus on my face. It sends chills up my spine, because it feels as though he is trying to read me. And he probably is, without necessarily being aware of it. He drops to the ground, lost in his mind. He doesn't seem to care whether my mouth is tied or not any more. I keep watching him, still speechless.

Then I notice the deer standing in the bushes, not very far from us and as I lock my eyes with his, I become aware of why he has come here. I panic, realising I have even more power in my hands now – my eyes and my mouth – and I must use it, lest it will be taken from me again.

“I’m truly sorry about the unfortunate accident, Nathaniel, for your sake. But I really meant no harm to anybody. I don’t even know how, nor if one can really cast a spell. I'm not a witch. I don’t blame you for not trusting me. I have also heard tales about witches and feared them since I was a child. But don’t you think it’s all nonsense? Aren’t we old enough to tell the difference between reality and our imaginations?”

As soon as I pronounce it, I realise that I could believe in witches, sorceresses and magic. I have heard the spirits of these lands, that was not just my mind playing tricks on me, I'm absolutely certain that they were real. And also, all that strange knowledge that has been transmitted to my mind, all these things assured me that there was a very thin line between so-called reality and the worlds beyond it. I can’t imagine why I said those words; it feels as if someone else was speaking through me, someone with strong down-to earth thinking. Perhaps it was the survival instinct in me. Men are different than us women, it's common sense that usually gets to them.

“I can understand why you hated my brother. And hate can be a powerful thing.”

He turns to me, his expression dismal. He pulls himself together and takes control of his emotions, like a man. His suggestion that my hatred caused Daniel’s death makes me sick. The suffocating anxiety grabs my heart and holds on to it. And only then I understand. He just needs someone to blame so that he doesn’t have to deal with his own bad conscience. How dare he throw it right at me? I have been blamed for enough these days, I don’t need to take on his guilt too!

“Perhaps you're right, I would have killed him if I could, but I didn’t.”