Page 10

Story: The WitchSlayer

She ran to the door, opening it when the person on the other side started yelling for her while bashing their fist.

“Victoria, what is the matter girl?” she asked the child who was huffing like she’d just ran as if her life depended on it.

This was a child of one of the townsfolk who always greeted Amalia when she was in the town. She had long, beautiful, brown hair with wild freckles dotting her cheeks.

“Miss Swafford, please come. Alesia’s baby is coming!”

Amalia’s eyes widened. She quickly rummaged through her home, shoving everything she needed into her basket. Within only a few moments, she was rushing her way to the town with the young child next to her.

It was a long and painful birth. There had been much screaming and so much blood. Unfortunately, Amalia had been the one to share the terrible news with the father that the mother might not make it.

Amalia was tired, physically, mentally, and magically drained when she returned to her home late into the night.

Her clothing was covered in blood that was not her own, but she at least managed to remove her bloodied apron and wash her skin clean before she’d left. She’d forgotten to grab a change of clothes in her haste to leave and had just wanted to depart as quickly as possible to return home.

That poor woman,was all Amalia could think.

She opened the door with her heart paining her. All she wanted to do was bathe and curl into a ball on her bed.

When the door opened, she saw Bala hanging from the bottom of the birdcage and the creature inside swiping its claw at Bala’s paw, both of them making angry, ferocious, hissing noises.

Amalia burst into tears and fell to her knees in the doorway. She couldn’t handle anything more than what she had just gone through this day. She hadn’t had time to process yet.

Immediately they both stopped. Bala let go to land on his feet while the lizard began staring at her like it always did. But the damage was already done. She was too tired and upset by helping Alesia to have any energy left to fight back her tears.

She was hoping Bala was coming over to comfort her and she opened her arms so she could cuddle into him.Please help me to feel better.

Instead, the selfish cat just walked next to her and out the door with his head held up high.

“You are such a bastard!”

She slammed the door behind him with her boot. Then she folded her knees so she could hug her legs while crying silently.

For a long while, she just cried her sadness away, wanting nothing more than to curl away from the disappointment in herself.

She heard the birdcage creak as it swung on its small chain, and her head shot up to see the lizard moving around.

It must be in pain.With a sniffle, tears still falling, she walked over to the cage and unlocked it.

“Please do not be mean to me right now, Lady Lizard,” she begged while reaching inside.

She needed a distraction. She needed something to keep her occupied as she processed and grieved for the woman she’d been unable to save.

It freely let her pick it up.

She placed it on the towel and started the cooking fire to warm the fresh tea she made earlier that day.

Amalia stopped crying by the time everything was warmed and ready, getting the lizard to drink the tea that would take its pain away. She sniffled while she worked and, to her surprise, it did everything it was supposed to, putting up no fight against her.

It took healthy mouthfuls of the tea, but when she started putting the ointment on its mangled wings, her eyes darted wildly over it. The tears started again as though she was nothing more than a child who had no control over its emotions.

“Why are you not healing?” she asked it with a sob. She felt like a failure.

Unable to stop them, she carefully put the lizard down on the table and started crying heavily. She folded her arms and rested them upon the table, burying her head against them.

“Why could I not save her?”

Deep down inside, Amalia knew it wasn’t her fault. Still, she couldn’t stop blaming herself. Alesia had been heavy with twins, and no matter how much of the potion she had prepared and lathered on her hands so no one could see she was using it, it made no difference. No matter how much she quietly chanted even with other midwives in the room and prayed for her life, she’d eventually lost the fight.

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