Page 4 of Found in Obscurity

She stood in front of the entrance to her home, ringing the doorbell before entering. Inviting good spirits in, like she always did.

She took off her shoes in the entryway, turning sharp blue eyes on him.

“There is sage and fennel in the pot to your right,” she said. “I assume you remember how to cleanse. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You know where your room is.”

She disappeared inside before he could respond, leaving him scrambling to do as she said, despite the protests bubbling inside him.

He didn’t want to perform a cleansing ritual.

He didn’t think he had to.

He had done nothing wrong. He’d just tried to live his own life, and there was nothing about it that needed cleansing.

“An hour, boy! Get to it!” she called, and he jumped in place before dropping his bag to the floor, setting the books on top of it, and grabbing the clay pot sitting on a shelf to the right, just where she’d said it would be.

He opened the lid and found at least a dozen small bundles of sage, tied with string and stacked inside. There was a small pack of matches right next to the pot and another clay bowl filled with abalone shells.

He wanted this over with as soon as possible, so he bypassed the shells and grabbed the smallest sage bundle he could find among them. He replaced the pot on the shelf and closed the lid, grabbing the matches and striking one before lighting the sage bundle. He blew on it until the smoke intensified, waving the bundle over and around himself until his eyes watered and he couldn’t smell anything but the overpowering scent of sage.

Lorin knew you were expected to take your time with the cleansing. Clearing your mind and finding intent behind what you were doing. But all he wanted to do was go through the motions so he could be free again. It wasn’t the correct intent behind what he was doing, but it was the best he could manage at the moment.

He let the sage bundle burn completely, watching it so it didn’t catch the fabric of his gloves. Then he let it drop to the ground just as the last smidge of it flickered out and stepped on it with his boot. He didn’t feel any cleaner than he had before, but he figured it would have to be enough, so he stepped inside the house for the first time in years.

Kit

They were putting the fences up.

He could see them from the bush he’d crawled into earlier to avoid being seen. Luckily, whatever kind it was, it was an evergreen, so it provided some shelter despite the cold winter weather.

Shelter was all it was good for though. It scratched at his snout and the scent was overwhelmingly bitter. The branches dug into his fur and tugged, and he could already tell there were twigs stuck on him as he moved.

But it was secluded, and people would have to try very hard to find him there. So he stayed put and observed.

He was pretty sure he had the time frame right, but being in his fox form didn’t allow for an accurate date assessment. There was no snow yet, but the air was getting crisp, and the winds blowing at night had stopped feeling like gentle whispers. The stars shone paler in the sky and the daylight ran away faster.

His winter fur had grown in. He liked it. It was his favorite time of the year. It meant comfort. Fewer people skulking around his little nook in the woods. Less chance of being discovered.

It also meant a new possibility.

A new bonding festival where maybe, just maybe he’d be able to find a witch to bond with.

That was what the fences were for. To create a makeshift area where witches and potential familiars could spend some time together, trying to find their perfect match.

He wouldn’t be joining them inside, that was too risky for him. If he didn’t find his witch, the look of him would raise a lot of questions, and he didn’t need that. He needed freedom so he could travel to a different witch community and try his luck there.

Year after year.

He’d lost track of how long he’d been doing it. How many times he’d sat on the outskirts, watching, sniffing, trying so very hard to feel it.

That call. That drive. That pull toward his witch.

It never came.

But he wasn’t ready to give up just yet. One more year, he said to himself.

Like he did every year.

Chapter two