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“I have only seen twenty-five winters.”

Her kind naturally lived two hundred years – a mere fraction of the length of his own life. The only way a Witch could extend their lives further was with blood magic.

He hadn’t expected that she was so young. He thought he may only have to deal with her for sixty years or so.

“That does not matter. You helped me, so therefore, you will be safe from me.” When he was met with silence, and she still didn’t turn to him, he said, “You are not as quick to adjust or joyful as earlier.”

“I no longer wish to pretend.”

Her scent changed. It still held fear, but it was shrouded in another emotion, something deep. He wasn’t sure what. It grew the longer they sat there and didn’t speak.

She obviously needed more time to process, and he didn’t want to sit here with her if she wouldn’t speak to him.

“I will not kill you,” he sighed, getting to his feet to leave. “I will not harm someone who helps others.”

Just as he was turning away, she whispered, “They burned me.”

He stopped and turned back while tilting his head.

“Yes, the humans do that.”

He watched her arms tighten further, but he wouldn’t hold his tongue to the truth.

“You burn Witches, they burn Witches. You are all so cruel.” Her voice was soft, but he could hear the anger in it. “They put me on the stake.”

Is she turning hateful? Has what happened to her corrupted her heart?

He hadn’t thought about this possibility. That what she went through may cause her to become evil and spite-filled. She may want to seek revenge.

“And your kind pull apart others! While we are alive Witches pull our scales off one-by-one.” He snarled, not liking that she may no longer be filled with innocence. “They strip us back until we are nothing but skin and flesh while we breathe, while webleed.”

He took a step forward and let his paw hit the ground hard enough to shake his own forearm.

“It is so painful that we pray for death while they laugh at us.”

“There it is again, that hatred you are telling me not to fear.”

“Because it is deserved! Your kind is vile! Every scale they pull, every bit of human skin they peel, is deserving of a lick of flame.”

Finally, she turned her head up to him to give him a glare.She dares to give me a look of anger!?He who had saved her life when he should have let her die?

Her eyes were filled with tears that had yet not fallen.

“Has this ever happened to you? Is that why you hate us, because we took your scales?” Her voice was filled with such a quiet rage that it unnerved him. He had never seen such hatefulness in her eyes before.

“No. I have never allowed such a thing to happen to me,” he sneered. “I am not some weak creature who cannot stop someone from dragging me from my own home.”

He was referencing her and her inability to save herself.

She suddenly got to her feet. He hadn’t known she was holding a rock until she threw it at his face.

“Then shut up, you arrogant bastard!”

His lips curled back over his fangs in a vicious and deep snarl. “How dare you-”

“They put me on the stake!” she screamed, cutting him off. Her scream held so much emotion. It was so loud, raw, and powerful that it made him rear his head back suddenly. “You have not lived pain, whereas I have!”

Then those tears finally slipped down her cheeks, heavy, with more following. She covered her face while her knees buckled, and she fell to them directly in front of him.