For the “Awesome Choice Contest.”
**Something that includes the words: hedgehog, arrow, narcissist, sunshine, magic, pine cone, pincushion, and DJ.
I feel like this may need more chapters.
Sunshine
The harvest moon cast a cadmium-colored light over the fields as she made her way through the rows of corn stalks. A book was under her arm, a keen blade in her belt, and a flame danced a bright jig atop the candle she held at eye level. She'd left her backpack at the inn; she usually carried it, but she didn't want anyone to identify her after she did her duty—or if she should fail. The inn was miles to the east, and if she were to go missing, nobody would go that far to look for an unknown, cloaked traveler; however, she was hoping to return and not be suspected in the least.
The luminescent eyes of a hedgehog met hers and they held her gaze for a few seconds, then faded back to the safety of their owner's burrow. The creature was clearly frightened of the cold, blue light the witch's eyes projected. She had slowed momentarily during her encounter with the animal, but she shook off the ominous feeling and recommenced taking strides so rapidly that her feet didn't touch the ground. She'd long lost the need of a broom for speed, but she could only hover about two feet from the ground without it.
After a thirty minute float across the field, she came to the edge. There was a barbed wire fence, waist-height. On the other side of the fence was tacked a sign reading “Private property. No trespassing.” The young-looking woman anchored her hands to one of the decaying wooden posts and vaulted over it. Scanning the forest entrance ahead, she picked out the perfect spot, the place in which she assumed he would be, and she mustered her courage. What she was about to do was unspeakable. It would have her condemned by her kind, by her family, and possibly by the world. 'By the gods,' she thought, a little choking sound making itself audible in her throat. 'They'll understand,' she convinced herself as she took the last step off the healthy, green grass and into the jumble of weeds, sticks, and dirt.
The man she hunted was an escaped felon who she'd seen in those woods before, hiding inside hollowed logs, eating berries and acorns, and bathing and drinking from a small stream. He'd nearly been caught a few times, but somehow, through trickery or gods-knew-what other means, he'd eluded the authorities.
The magician sat on a slab of slate and thumbed through the pages of her grimoire like a DJ looking for a record. She'd already checked for the sort of spell she wanted, but in vain. There was certainly nothing powerful enough to remotely ease the pain; there was no magic, dark, light, or otherwise, that could cure her despair, as much as she hoped there would be. She'd have to revert to more primal measures--measures that she knew would change her forever, perhaps destroy her. That in mind, she shut the book and deposited it into one of her large pockets in her cloak.
As she made her way toward the lightning-struck tree about three hundred yards ahead, she thought of the old man who, she somehow knew, would be there waiting for her. He had a wife once; he'd beaten and killed her, and made the life of their child miserable, at least until he was caught and locked away. The child, she heard, was a grown woman now, and she was fearful to let anyone too close to her. She was supposedly becoming a hermit. The witch couldn't let that happen.
She took particular care in avoiding stepping on the pine cones that littered the forest floor, in case the sound alerted her target to her presence. Straining her eyes, she was able to make out the shape of a bent human reclining on a small boulder. A fire glowed, and she smelled cooking meat. There was a dead deer, arrows stuck through it like a pincushion, lying near the fire. The man, narcissist that he was, took out a tiny, round pocket mirror and began to examine his wrinkled face.
The girl stepped into his camp, surprised that he hadn't seen the candle moving toward him. She set the candle on a stump and removed her hood. Finally he noticed her.
“Well, if it isn't my dearest Sunshine,” he chuckled, not quite unaware of the danger he was in, but certainly underestimating the tall lady before him.
She took a deep breath in an attempt to quell the surge of memories. “You know,” she said softly, “I never did heal after what you did to Mother and me.” Without further ado, she whipped the dagger free from her belt and plunged it into his chest, twisting the blade, breaking ribs. She couldn't afford to stall, or else she may not have been able to complete her task.
He regarded her with surprise written across his features; how he could feel any emotion after what he'd done was beyond her. So how could he feel surprise at something he should have known was coming?
Her old lover, Finn, had been correct in telling her that there was no spell for this. The sweetest revenge would be to kill him like he'd dispatched her mother and obliterated her soul.
However, she realized that tears streamed down her cheeks as she withdrew the knife and slit his throat for good measure. Surely it had to be because she was horrified at herself. When she saw what happened to her mom, she swore in the names of the gods that she would never do such a thing, and now she slumped against the tree trunk, bloody knife in hand, sobbing. She'd broken a promise. And for what? It wasn't as if he would ever come after her. No, that would have been risking too much.
She suddenly heard a voice: “Hello? I heard someone scream! Are you okay?” She hadn't realized she'd screamed.
Panicking, she whipped around and disappeared deeper into the forest, once again hovering over the ground. She didn't look back in fear of her face being seen. She did look up, though, noticing how the branches of the trees stretched high into the air as if asking for forgiveness. How dare they mock her in that way?
Everything seemed to be spinning as she collapsed, only to see the bright figure of Finn standing over her.
“You've done well,” he smiled, holding out a hand.
“It was a trap,” she whispered to herself.
“Of course it was, dearest Sunshine. We'll never be redeemed.”
