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Story: The WitchSlayer

“So, you are not completely incompetent.”

“Naïve, the word you are thinking of is naïve.”Excuse me? Did she just correct me?At the look on his face, she continued, “Incompetent means that I am not capable of doing something or obtaining knowledge successfully. Naïve means I am just not told of it and never knew the information existed begin with.”

He said nothing because she was correct.

She leaned against the table to wait for her food to cook, and the area was filled with silence once more.

She walked over to it, stirred it, and checked to see that they were still firm before reassuming her place by the table. The Witch had also stopped looking at him, like she no longer cared to check that he was there as she had in the previous alcove.

“You are not as talkative as before,” he commented.

He wanted her to go back to the way she was in her peasant cottage, where she had irritated him by never shutting up.

“You told me to leave you alone.”

She pushed off the table and stirred her boiling food, giving him her back.

He quietly growled. He knew what he said, he just hadn’t known he wouldn’t like it.

“I changed my mind. You are welcome to talk to me.” She didn’t say anything, didn’t start rambling like he expected her to. “Well?”

“Perhaps I do not want to anymore.”

She turned her head away from him, and he narrowed his eyes.

“I demand that you talk to me,” he snarled, stepping forward into the smaller alcove and slamming his paw down.

He bared his fangs when she didn’t, and a growl began emitting from his throat.I will not allow some Witch to disobey my commands in my own home.

Before he could do anything, she gave him a mocking snort – almost like a short laugh. “You are awfully moody, are you not?”

His head snapped back in surprise. Because the room was intended for use when he was in his human form, he smacked his head against the ceiling that was lower in this alcove. He winced, hitting it hard and shot his head down to the ground to rub his paw over it.Ow!

“Oh my, I am so sorry,” she quietly giggled. “I did not mean to make you hit yourself.”

Rurik felt hands grab the side of his large head.

He stopped looking at the ceiling, instead his eyes widening as they fell on her. She was directly in front of him, seeming to check for some sort of injury that wouldn’t be there.

He’d only knocked himself, yet her face held real concern for his well-being. He wasn’t sure if she was aware that she was actually leaning against his snout since her body was pressed against his face.

“You are not bleeding.”

He knew that.

What he didn’t know was why he wasn’t pulling away from her. His eyes became heavy-lidded when she started carefully rubbing the top of his head with her whole hand, like she once had with a finger.

“Are you okay?” she said when he felt his chin brush the ground, like it was too heavy for him to hold up under her tender caresses. She pulled away and put space between them. “Sorry, I did not realise I was leaning on your face there.” Then, with her eyes widening, she quickly turned while exclaiming, “My food!”

She sighed with relief when she scooped up a vegetable with the wooden spoon she had been using to stir with and shoved her blade in to check it. One-by-one, she pulled each piece out and placed it onto a plate from the chest he’d brought in.

She sat at the table and picked up her cutlery.

“Once I finish eating, I was wondering if you had some sort of tub I can wash in?”

“I do, and yes, I will prepare it for you.”

She brought pieces into her mouth to chew until she startled him when she dropped her knife and fork. She looked absolutely mortified.

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