Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 5
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 1
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 2
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 3
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 4
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 5
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 6
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 7
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 8
- Teen Witch’s Survival Guide: Chapter 9
Out in the forest clearing, Hawthorn and I sit in the grass with fresh cups of tea. The sun is warm on my skin.
“Now what?”
“Just breathe in the air. Feel the surrounding roots. Witchcraft is about connecting with nature.”
I close my eyes and try to focus. I’m able to pick out the scent of each individual plant. It’s overwhelming. The wind is so silent I can hear my heartbeat.
“What happens when I connect?”
Hawthorn lets out a puff of air, between a laugh and a sigh.
“Maybe we can start with something else.”
I stand quickly.
Hawthorn brushes the grass off her dress.
***
I keep my gaze facing down at the cobblestones in town. Hawthorn doesn’t. She smiles and laughs; her warm arm linked in mine.
The townspeople give us weird looks.
“Where are we going?”
“To meet someone.”
The crowds of people part in disgust, as we skip along. Eventually, we stop at a shop covered in vines. A bell dings as we step inside.
Behind the counter is a woman with wavy blond hair that falls around her face like a frame.
“Hawthorn, did you forget something?” She asks.
The shop is in a million colors. Blue, purple, and red flowers fill every basket. Hundreds of drying plants coat the walls in luscious green. Two tall ferns stand on each side of the counter, growing taller than me.
“No, I…” She smooths out her hair. “I’ve taken on an apprentice, and I wanted to grab some herbs.”
The woman’s face falls.
“An apprentice? Your awakening was less than a year ago!”
I shift my body so I’m standing in a corner next to the door. A plant brushes my back, but I’m out of the way.
“It’s only a month till I’m granted full witch status,” Hawthorn says, curling her shoulders inward.
The woman notices me, and her eyes soften.
“Hi, there. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Laria.” She holds out her hand.
“Lean,” I tell her, hoping I’m loud enough to be audible. The handshake is gentle.
“That’s a lovely name.”
“She’s the first awakened in her family. I have to teach her, c’mon Laria.”
Laria studies me, her head tilted, and her face still holding that soft expression. As if I were some adorable animal. My cheeks get hot under the attention.
“Fine. But Hawthorn,” she turns to the other girl, “don’t let your pride get in the way.”
“I won’t.”
Laria hums in disapproval. “Which means I will teach her about potions.”
“But Laria–”
“No buts. Come along.”
Laria leads us to the back of the shop. Here, the space looks more practical than beautiful. The walls are lined with shelves of dried herbs. One wall overflows with potted plants. In the center, a worn table shows signs of frequent use.
“All of our magic comes from the earth, but potions are the most direct source. Powerful magic or strong intent can guide you to the ingredients, but mostly, it’s memorization and identification. We’ll start with a simple health blessing.”
Laria moves around the room methodically, picking jars off the shelf like it’s second nature. I take the time to look at the shelves.
“Elderberry, sweet wormwood, osha root and…”
She stops in front of me and glances down at the jar in my hands that I had picked up absentmindedly.
“Lemon balm.”
I quickly hold it out to her. She gives me a curious stare and seizes it.
“Okay. This is a simple blend,” she says, laying out the stuff on the table, and pulling out a mortar and pestle.
I reach for the osha root and untwist the lid.
“Yeah, that is the base. Are you sure you don’t have any witches in your family?”
I think about Dad’s tales of slain witches, and Quince’s loud gloating after a successful hunt. And, I remembered the time Jacob came home with a haunted expression and hugged me like I was going to die.
“I’m sure.”
“Next comes the wormwood.”
I reach for the jar and pour some into the mix.
“Wait, measure that!” Hawthorn yelps.
“It’s fine; we can just scoop out the excess,” Laria states, moving the dry herb into a secondary cup. It fills it almost perfectly.
“It was the right amount.”
“You have a strong intuition,” Hawthorn says, admiring the proportion.
“This is a pretty simple potion, we can’t know that for sure,” Laria says.
“Then forget this; she should try something more powerful,” Hawthorn replies, with a huge smile on her face.
Editor: Lucy Cafiero
