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So, I do the only thing I can.
My knock is quiet, but it still seems to shatter the peace of the clearing. I anxiously wait for a long moment, but nothing happens.
I should have known better. It's far too late for anyone to be awake, let alone willing to open their door to a perfect strange, especially here.
I'm just about to walk away when I hear the soft shuffle of feet approaching.
My heart skips a beat as I take a step back. I glance over my shoulder, trying to gauge whether or not I stand a chance of running away, of fleeing before I’m caught out here alone.
As far as I know, the cottage could hold a fate even worse than the one Amadeus or Lord Payne promised.
This was a mistake. I should have known better than to approach a strange house, especially one set in the middle of a dark forest.
I start to turn, but before I can flee, the door creaks open, and I find myself caught.
Slowly, I look back to find a woman peering out at me. I start, blinking in surprise as I recognize her as the strange woman from the tavern.
The woman Cyprian had called a witch.
She stares at me in silence for a long moment before finally opening the door wider. I hesitate when she simply steps aside and nods once for me to enter.
My feet carry me inside as if they have minds of their own, and the strange woman shuts the door behind me.
She ushers me into the main room of the cottage, and I can't help but take it all in. It's a clean and cozy little space, well-loved from the worn rug and soft furniture. At the back of the room, a rocking chair sits next to a crackling fire, a book and steaming mug set on a small table to one side of it.
Clearly, I've interrupted her evening, despite how late it is.
I let my eyes take everything in before turning back toward the woman. Questions pile themselves atop my tongue, but she silences them with a single look.
"Sit," she tells me, her voice firm but kind, "and I'll put the kettle on."
She gestures toward the fire, and I make my way over to it. Passing an overstuffed bookshelf and wooden table filled with an odd assortment of jars and dried herbs, I settle myself on a small footstool facing the rocking chair.
Staring at the fire, exhaustion begins to worm its way back into me. Leaning forward, I prop my head up in my hands as my eyelids begin to grow heavy.
"Here you are, dear."
I'm startled back awake, as I look up to find the woman standing next to me, offering me a steaming mug of my own.
"Thank you," I say, accepting the mug as she settles onto the rocking chair. I stare down at the swirling tea leaves as steam wafts around my face, wondering how much I should tell her of my predicament. "I suppose you're wondering why I'm here."
"You're here for help," she replies.
Blinking, I glance back up at her.
"How did you know?"
"Why else would a young maiden such as yourself be wandering the depths of the forest on a moonless night?"
I small laugh escapes me at this.
Of course. It must have been obvious to her that I was in desperate need of help the moment she opened her door. Living all the way out here, she probably doesn't get many visitors this late at night, unless they truly need her help.
It certainly wouldn't take supernatural powers to deduce that from my current state.
"You're right," I admit, shaking my head as I let out a small snort. "And to think I almost believed Cyprian when he said you were a witch."
"Oh, but he's not wrong about that."
