Chapter Text
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Alastor set his staff down and leaned his weight against the gnarled, ancient thing to admire his work. His new home sat nestled in the clearing near the edge of the forest, close enough to a stream that he could hear its gentle murmur.
The cottage itself was constructed from moss-covered stones, with dark polished wood that framed its windows and formed its roof. Vines crept the walls, and Alastor was excited to witness how their blooms would shift with the seasons. A small set of stairs led to the front door, which had been carved from sturdy oak and was adorned with a herbs-and-wildflowers wreath that Alastor could smell even from afar.
But like the windows, a part of the door was incomplete. He would need a glazier’s help with installing glass into the missing gaps. Why did he think this was a good idea? It would have been so much easier just to stick to what his magic knew best— and glass was not something he knew how to work with.
This meant that he would have to go into the nearby town much earlier than he needed to. Today, preferably, so that his house wouldn’t flood when it rained. It was bound to storm soon too. He could taste it in the air.
But going into the town before he really had a chance to settle down was a risk he wasn’t sure he wanted to take just yet. From what he heard, Luminara had been lacking a forest witch for a good decade or two. If the townsfolk knew that he had planted his roots here, they were bound to think that he was open for business and come banging on his door to break his peace even before he had any of it.
Alastor wrinkled his nose. He hadn’t even thought about how he wanted to charge his clients.
He briefly considered it: Maybe a couple of coppers for simple diagnoses? More if they needed a potion or two—those were easy—and up to a few silver bits if they needed a more complicated spell to solve their ailment. He knew he couldn’t overcharge them; Maman would sooner have his head.
Ugh. He’d rather be left by himself in this nice, quiet forest for as long as possible before the nosey townsfolk came barging in with their dying potted plants or their pathetic pets. The thought gave him a headache.
Time was on his side at least. By foot, it would take six hours to get to the town. While he had magic to hasten that journey, the townsfolk could only rely on their horses for a third of the journey. The rest of the way to his cottage could not be as easily traversed. The path would become increasingly rugged and overgrown as it wound through dense forest and across uneven terrain— and it would be perilous to try and cut corners.
There was a rustle from the garden to the right of Alastor’s cottage. With his weight still against his staff, Alastor turned his head towards the source of the noise and scanned the rows of herbs and crops that had been freshly planted just an hour before.
Even with the sun out, it was hard to see among the plants. The canopy overhead was lush and blocked much of the sunlight. It would probably be a good idea to put up some lanterns. Alastor closed his eyes and pictured that: lining the stone path that led to the entrance of his new home with warm, glowing lanterns to illuminate the way.
He liked that thought. The extra cost of a few silvers for the lanterns would be worthwhile, and—Alastor sighed—the townsfolk who were brave enough to make the trip would find his cottage a lot easier. He didn’t want to deal with cleaning up their bodies this close to his house.
There was another rustle, this time much closer to him. Alastor opened his eyes in time to see his familiar pounce out of the shrub. The black and white cat with red bushy eyebrows meowed as it strode up to Alastor and sat by his feet.
Alastor bent down and tapped it on its head with the tip of his finger. “How goes the exploration, Husker? Find anything interesting?”
“It’s a shit hole,” Husk purred and paused to lick his paw. “I want to go back.”
“We absolutely should not,” Alastor chided as he straightened his back. “We stayed at Maman’s far longer than we were supposed to. You’ve heard what happens when too many of my kind gather in one place for too long.”
Husk rumbled and turned his head away. “Hmph, just because you’re a forest witch, that doesn’t mean you literally have to live in a forest. Your ma didn’t.”
Alastor used the end of his staff to adjust Husk’s collar so that its red ribbon wasn’t crooked. “Oh, do shut up,” Alastor said with a saccharine smile. “It would be ridiculous to move to a town that we know absolutely nothing of. What if they decide to burn down our house, hmm? We haven’t the funds to start afresh elsewhere, especially if we—”
“Yeah, yeah, quit bein’ so dramatic.” Husk sniffed. “You know the last forest witch of Luminara died from old age. The people here loved her.”
Alastor narrowed his eyes and began walking towards his cottage. He didn’t feel like telling his familiar that he had concerns whether the town might be accepting of him in particular. It was likely that he was feeling this rare bout of anxiety because it was his first time out on his own, even if he was—by no means—a newly-minted forest witch.
He was still young though. His Maman had reminded him about that when he had packed his bags to leave. He suspected that he would always be young in her eyes.
But being two hundred and fifty was not young, damn it. It was a perfectly respectable age for any adult elf to be.
“Still bein’ dramatic,” Husk purred. He trotted next to Alastor, up the stairs and into the house.
Alastor slammed the door behind them. The knocker rattled in its fittings and echoed a sharp clang throughout the sparse cottage. He turned his attention to Husk and hissed, “I will end you.” In warning, the amber orb on the tip of his staff glowed as dark green runes began to manifest around it. The lights in the cottage flickered as the fireflies reacted to Alastor’s anger.
But Husk only yawned and walked further into the cottage before he jumped onto the couch in front of the fireplace. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, settling in for a nap. “Bet you won’t find a better familiar than me to deal with your prissy shit.”
The runes around the staff faded away. “Fuck you,” Alastor grumbled. His words held absolutely no heat.
“Uh huh,” Husk said, then turned onto his back and kicked his hindlegs against the arm of the couch. “Eh, don’t forget your satchel, you hear me? And remember to pick up some fish. Salmon if they have ‘em.”
“Have you gone out of your mind?” Alastor looked at Husk incredulously, but his familiar was done with the conversation and already dozing off. He shook his head and muttered to himself, “Salmon. As if we have that kind of money to squander. How preposterous.”
He shot another glance at Husk to see if there was any reaction. There was no movement, only a long silence before the cat twitched and let out a light snore. It made Alastor roll his eyes so hard that his vision blackened for a second. That damned cat always had a way of getting on Alastor’s nerves and was rarely bothered when Alastor threatened to retaliate. Honestly, it was as if Alastor had done something to his familiar in another life and was paying for it now.
If he had been given a choice, he would have picked some other familiar. Perhaps a snake or a raven. Why did he have to get a cat?
Cats were so pretentious, acting as if they owned the world. They were annoying with their penchant for knocking things over for no reason and needy with their relentless demands for attention at the most inconvenient times.
Cats were so much like him, his Maman had said.
Well, Alastor respectfully disagreed. If he were to be compared to an animal, he should be a wolf. Or a fox. Maybe those should have been his familiar instead.
Except nature had given him all the middle fingers it could—and that was a lot, considering all that nature had a grasp over—so the only animals that had come to Alastor the day he asked nature for a familiar were a dog and a cat. And Alastor was not stupid enough to choose a dog, even if they were the sad domesticated descendants of wolves.
He blamed the results of his summons on the fact that his Maman lived in a city. This was partially the reason why Alastor did not want to live in Luminara itself.
Out here in the forest, there was the slightest chance that he could pick up another familiar— one that wasn’t a regular domesticated animal. He didn’t want to be stuck with one cat for the rest of his very long elvish life. Given his talent to speak to animals, that would just be sad.
“Might wanna get a move on before it’s too late,” Husk meowed.
Alastor clicked his tongue in annoyance. The cat was right. He had been standing here by the door this whole time, stewing in his thoughts like some half-witted dwarf.
“What happened to being asleep, hmm?” Alastor asked as he set his staff against the wall.
There was no reply. Typical. Husk was snoring away again, his entire body splayed out across the cushion on the couch. At least his familiar was useful for reminding him to do things and… catching pests or something. Otherwise, Alastor would probably have boiled Husk alive in his cauldron and eaten him afterwards.
Alastor made his way past the couch and the ladder to his bedroom, past the dining room, and into the room where his apothecary’s bench and cauldron laid.
His well-worn satchel was hanging off a hook next to the bench. He smiled at it fondly. It had been a gift from his Maman, spelled to hold just about anything he threw in. Everything that he had brought along with him, including what little furniture he had, was carried by this brown leather bag. He—
He really should stop trying to put off making his way to Luminara.
With a twirl of his finger, a gust of wind carried the satchel over to Alastor. It was noticeably lighter than it was before, though it never weighed more than a sack of potatoes even when it was filled to the brim. He slung it over his shoulder and walked back to the living room, flicking off a leaf of grass from his dark brown robe.
“I’ll be on my way—” Alastor paused and looked at the couch.
Husk was nowhere to be seen.
“Husker,” Alastor called out, “if I come back and find out that you’ve gotten into my stash again, I will skin you this time.”
Husk was still nowhere to be seen, but there was a clamour from the kitchen, followed by a screech that distinctly sounded like Husk’s. Alastor rolled his eyes. The cat had definitely tried to get into Alastor’s stash again. Now, Husk would be stuck inside Alastor’s trap for the next few hours. Alastor wasn’t worried. He’d made sure to leave water and some food inside the trap. Besides, the cat had to learn that alcohol was dangerous for animals one way or another.
“Take care, Husker,” Alastor sing-songed as he picked up his staff. With a wide smile on his face, he opened the front door and stepped out.
As Alastor shut the door behind him, Husk yelled at the top of his lungs, “Fuck you, Alastor!”
Alastor only smiled wider. Then, he took his first step towards Luminara.