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Jillian straightened her back and took a deep, slow breath, in a way that wouldn’t be too obvious to the old woman—lest she realized she was getting irritated because of her and made an even bigger scene.
“I received a letter this morning informing me of a family problem,” the witch easily lied, wearing a sad expression. “I didn’t want to put the business on hold, but I fear I’ll have to take care of my family for a while.”
The old woman frowned. “A family problem?”
Jillian nodded. It was clear Mrs. Gibson was surprised that she had a family. To be completely honest, Jillian didn’t—not anymore, at least—but no one in the town knew her enough to see through her lie, so for once she could use it to her advantage.
“It’s really urgent,” Jillian added. “If I don’t help my family now, I might not be able to see them again.”
The old lady looked away for a while, her lips pressed thinly in a subtle grimace. She looked torn between expressing her disapproval and showing understanding. After a few moments, she sighed.
“I guess you have no choice, then,” she bitterly said.
Jillian’s frustration grew. The townspeople were already ungrateful towards her, always treating her like a machine, but being upset that she had to go away? And for serious reasons? It was a lie, yes, but Mrs. Gibson didn’t know that, so her reluctance was really getting on Jillian’s nerves.
Despite everything, Jillian still tried to smile politely, not wanting to anger her customer even more. “I will make sure to prepare extra potions for everyone, so you have a reserve during my absence. They will be ready by tomorrow.”
She could easily spend the rest of the day and night working like a mule if it meant that afterwards, she could stop working altogether.
The lady nodded, disappointment clear on her face. “I will let the town know, then.”
Jillian had no doubt about that. The woman had a passion for gossip.
The two of them said goodbye and as soon as her customer walked out, Jillian rushed to turn the sign on her shop’s door from ‘open’ to ‘closed’, slumping against the door in defeat.
Miserable and tired, she dragged her feet around the shop and collected some ingredients, then made her way to the back to prepare extra potions and powders for the townspeople, hoping it would placate their anger a little. She wasn’t going to leave for good—shedidlike her job and the town, after all—but her life had gotten out of hand and she needed to find peace again. So if Jillian could make sure that the townspeople wouldn’t suddenly turn on her for leaving so abruptly, maybe when she eventually returned, she could continue her work like nothing had happened.
She did not sleep that night and spent all her time working instead. By morning, her whole body was heavy, back aching and fingers feeling like they were about to fall off. Jillian groaned at the absurdity of it; she was only in her mid-thirties, yet her body felt like an old lady’s.
With one last strained effort, she packed all the magic objects into her baskets and went into town. She left all the orders and more in front of each house, each of them with a small note explaining the situation and apologizing about her absence.
She met some early workers around the city, asking if the rumors of her leaving were true, so Jillian had to waste time explaining herself over and over again. Everyone reacted the same way Mrs. Gibson had, and Jillian became so upset, she worried she might snap her baskets with the increasing force of her grip.
Once she finally managed to escape the villagers and finish her deliveries, she wrote a big sign on her shop’s door announcing her temporary absence. Then, packing her things and locking the door, Jillian left town without looking back.
TWO
the book
Jillian owned a cottage in the middle of the forest, not too far from her town. It was a lovely wooden structure of two stories, with vines dropping from the top left side and slowly spreading to the rest of surface, surrounding the structure in a cozy embrace. An old wooden fence framed the perimeter of her property, which included the garden surrounding the sides and back of the house. On the left side of the building, a few feet away from the fence, ran a small river that continued into the dense tree line.
Jillian’s cottage was so deep into the woods that only a few brave hunters ever walked by. Yet despite that, no one had ever found her little house because of the hiding spells she had enchanted.
It had been her home a long time ago, where she was born and raised. She was supposed to only leave it temporarily, to travel the places she read about in books, experience new things outside of her sheltered environment and maybe even trade her magic with humans. But then one by one, her relatives all died, and during her travels, when she found such high demand and interest for her services, she had decided to permanently move into Balkwill. Her cottage was left uninhabited and forgotten, but despite the new life she built for herself, she had never been able to give her old home away. Now that she desperately needed an escape, Jillian was glad she didn’t.
She found the house almost exactly as she remembered it, with no particular sign of aging or deterioration. Even though her spells had managed to preserve the house and its surroundings, the gardens had still managed to grow wild. Jillian wasn’t too surprised about that: most of the witches’ magic came from nature, but nature itself was very powerful, with rules of its own, and magic did not always work on it.
Walking into the house, Jillian smiled as she was welcomed by a comforting, familiar smell of wood and berries. A small pang of nostalgia burrowed into her chest at the sight of the living room and the old neglected fireplace, the one she used to sit in front of while her grandmother told her stories of magic and adventures. For a moment, the witch worried that coming back had been a bad idea, but she forced the thought away.
It was late afternoon when she had arrived. Considering she had been awake for well over twenty-four hours, she decided to rest before she throughly checked the cottage’s conditions or did anything else. Discarding her bags on the ground of her bedroom, she immediately slid under the covers, mentally thanking her magic for preventing dust in her house. It didn’t take long before she drifted to sleep, smiling contently at the feeling of the soft, chilly sheets surrounding her.
She woke up late the next day. A few small rays of sunshine peered through her window, pleasantly warming her face. She smiled at the quiet around her, the only noises being the sweet rustling of the wind between leaves, the stream bubbling outside her window, and the light chirping of the birds.
“Is this what it feels like to relax?” She mumbled, still smiling softly.
She stretched her arms and legs, some of the overworked joints inevitably cracking at the movements. She lifted the covers to start the day, an excited thrill spreading all over her body.
Walking into the bathroom, Jillian met her dreadful reflection in the big oval mirror. Her usually full face was pale—a tone too grayish to look healthy—and there were dark circles under her brown eyes. It would take days before her body could completely recover and look livelier again. She definitely needed to spend some time under the sun.
