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The Fates are cruel and fickle, but I’ve had a long time to come to terms with that.
I'd grown up wild and free, barefoot and dressed in hand-woven clothing made for me by my grandmother. I never did the things that I saw the younglings in Sol City do, like bathe regularly and be forced to take lessons. Instead, I spent my days foraging in the forest and learning directly from my mother everything a witch could possibly need to know about how to heal, how to nurture, how to give every piece of myself away to the land itself, because we trusted the earth to give it straight back to us. A fate of giving myself completely to the forest was the only one I could see.
A secret part of me, dark and malicious and every inch the monster they believe me to be, is overjoyed when he flinches back from the heat of my ire directed right at him.
The power of the earth races through my veins, burning me with the glory and vitality of the land. It’s like holding fire, a devastating force that’s vital to our survival but could kill me if I hold on too tightly.
