Page 12 of Little Witch

It stood at the center of a small clearing, trunk twisted and gnarled, branches stretched out like reaching arms. The air around it felt different — colder, denser, like the tree itself gave off its own kind of pressure. I stopped just short of the clearing, breath catching.

It was the same tree from my dream. I was certain of it.

The whispers climbed louder, more urgent, and for a second I thought I saw something moving among the branches. A shadow, shifting, writhing, almost alive.

I tugged at the end of my pink and orange braid and took a step closer, pulse racing —

Before I could reach the tree, a figure stepped out into the clearing, blocking my path.

I froze. My heart slammed up into my throat, and every other thought I'd been carrying into these woods vanished at once, because I knew him. Instantly. Before he'd even fully cleared the shadow of the oak, before he'd said a single word.

"Rowan."

His name left me before I'd decided to say it, and I watched it land on him the same way — watched the recognition hit his face in real time, all that careful stillness cracking straight down the middle.

"Amber." My name came out of him low and rough, disbelieving, like he hadn't let himself expect to say it again.

Three years. Three years of nothing, and here he was, black hair pushed back off his face, dark clothes doing nothing to hide the sheer size of him against the treeline. He'd always felt bigger than the room around him, even as a kid, but this was different. This was a kind of bigger that made the whole clearing feel smaller just for holding him.

Oh, I wanted to punch the big bastard in his stupid fucking face.

His eyes caught what little light made it through the canopy and glowed — pink bleeding to violet at the edges, exactly the way I remembered, exactly the color that had haunted half my teenage years without me admitting it to a single soul because...

Because I couldn't get them out of my head. To the point I knew the difference in the twins eye colors. I knew the tiniest of discrepencies in them both.

I could tell the twins apart in the darkness with my eyes screwed shut because whatever magic ran through this town had imprinted them onto my damn soul.

Neither of us moved for a long moment. The air between us shimmered, charged, the wind stirring leaves around our feet like the forest itself was reacting to two people who hadn't stood this close in far too long.

"You're back," I finally managed, voice smaller than I meant it to be.

"I'm back."

"You didn't call." It came out sharper than I intended, three years of it rising up all at once.

"I did not call." He drawled.

Something about his calmness made me enraged.

"You left after the funeral and you never called. Not once. Do you have any idea—" I stopped myself before my voice could crack all the way open. "I missed you. That's all. I missed you so much it was stupid. And I hate your guts because you kissed me and then you left. And I felt like a prick for years on end. And I can't event look at Orias without thinking of you because your stupid face is the same as his and I... I missed you. I want to hit you, and hug you. Yeah."

Something moved across his face — guilt and want and old grief, all fighting for the same space. "I missed you too," he said, low, like it cost him something to say out loud. "Every single day. There wasn't a version of staying gone that didn't feel like losing something I couldn't afford to lose twice."

"Then why—"

"Because staying was worse." Fast, like he needed it out before he could take it back. "You don't know how much worse. And it was nothing to do with the kiss. It was... it was other things, and nonsense, and I just needed to go. Okay."

Before I could push, he tipped his head, studying me a beat too long. "How did you even get out here? Orias doesn't strike me as the type to let you wander the Pines alone. Not lately."

Heat crawled up my neck. "I told him I had a delivery to sort at the shop."

"You lied to him."

"I—" I fumbled, caught. "It wasn't a whole lie."

"Amber." He said my name like it already knew everything. "He knows. He always knows when you lie to him. You think you can slip out here without either of us finding out? We can hear your heartbeat, sweetheart. We both know how much it races when you lie."

My face went hotter still, embarrassment tangled up with something else underneath it. "How would he even—"