One the eve of her nineteenth birthday Gianna had learned of her own betrothal. Such news came from her father who, from her perspective, had seemed desperate to marry her off since she came out of her mother’s womb. Born of poverty, Gianna had only known of pain, hardship, and honest labor. When she reached the age when she could walk, she had learned what shoveling cow shit was like. Days upon days of her youth she spent watching her mother idly cooking, tending to house, and helping with the farm. Her dad had preferred the physical, pain staking labor. Gianna had wondered why he had felt it his duty to take on the “harder” parts of labor.

At the age of six, she had learned of her own duties from her mother (but it wasn’t like those weren’t already instilled). She had learned of the duties of a woman, a wife, and a mother. To care for her husband and submit to her all was what was to become of her. At ten, Gianna had dreamed of the day she would one day meet her husband. Her mother’s stories did not help with such daydreams, instead they heightened them. At the age of twelve, when she first bled, her father told her that she should think about getting married. That day, Gianna felt as if she wanted to go back to the days of her mother reading stories of princes and princesses to hide away in the fantasy. Every month after her first period she grimaced.

When Gianna had turned seventeen, she had attended her best friend’s wedding. She noted the distant look on her dear friend’s face months after the “glorious” day. A rose displayed across from where she sat with the bridal party struck her, for it had already started wilting.

At nineteen years of age, she sits in front of her mirror while her mother places daisies in her hair. She was not to get a grandeur wedding like her friends. She was sold to the highest bidder just like the pigs her dad was tending to that morning. She had learned his name just that morning, Sir Nickols. A supposed honest man of forty years with land east, past the winding forest of Vales. He did not have much, but he had enough to sustain her and some children. Beyond those details Gianna knew nothing of the man she was to marry.

She watched as her mother worked her magic on her hair. Dark tendrils framed her face, making her appear younger than she was. Gazing at her reflection she noted her dress, white, pure, with embroidered flowers lining the sleeves of her pudgy arms. She felt constricted in every way. Her wider frame made her feel rather silly in the wedding dress. Her mom had tightened the bodice, making it difficult to breathe. Her bosom was rising and falling rapidly with every nervous respiration she took. She looked further, noting every daisy peering out from her chestnut brown hair. The line in her face creased ever so slightly in a frown.

The neckline was high while the train had been cut short to make for easier travel. It was the beginning of fall where she lived. Her mother had told her that she would not be able to visit until spring of next year since the winters were so fierce.

The dress felt heavy against her. She felt that with every passing minute, she was closer to her sealed fate. At last, her mother finished the final touches. The veil was set as well as Gianna’s mind. She thought of her parents and the hard work they had done in raising her. She thought of her friend and the letters they would write to one another due to the distance. Although she was married, she had never felt so lonely. She settled on one thought to help calm her: I will serve my husband just as my mom did for my father and just as my dear friend does for hers. It will not be lavish, but I will live comfortably. And with that thought she set out on the journey to meet her husband.

…

         Gianna reached the outskirts of the forest of Vales. She was nervous. Who wouldn’t? No carriage would dare travel through such a windy area. No rider would desire to escort her through the cursed forest. Even her husband could not afford such luxury. Her father had thought about travelling with her, but her mother opposed such an arrangement. He was getting older. One fall could risk her mother being a poor widow and Gianna losing her dad. With these concerns it was settled that Gianna would make the trip on foot with a switchblade, some fabrics, and lunch. Pushing her veil out of her face she entered the forest.

         Gianna was met with a gust of cold wind. Goosebumps lined her arms. She did not cease though; she continued trudging past snaking vines, overgrown moss, and old trees. The forest of Vales seemed lively during this time. Gianna could hear rustling and chirping in the distance. As she passed an ant colony, she noted the crumbs they carried on their backs.

         Gianna found herself deep within the forest by noon. She came to an open area where it seemed people may have camped in the past. She dusted off a decent looking log and sat down, pulling out the lunch her mom had packed. Traditional piadina romagnola with a little bit of chestnut flower cake was packed in her carrier. Since being a little girl Gianna had always loved the dish. She enjoyed it with ham and prosciutto. Although it had been a couple of hours since her mother prepared the flatbread still seemed warm to the touch. Taking a few bites Gianna took in the forest around her. The trees swayed in the slight wind. She pulled her long-hooded cape around her; desiring to drown in the fabric.

         To her left she heard a slight, abrupt movement. She turned, setting down the sandwich and slowly hovering her hand over her knife in her pocket. A few yards away was the strangest sight. A rabbit seemed to be circling a snail perched on a log. “Odd,” Gianna thought. Who would have thought snails enticed such creatures.

         Gianna used to pride herself on saving any living creature she could. She was never one to kill, skin, and cook the animals on her parents’ farm. Her father knew this well. She had a vivid memory of him yelling at her while she hovered an axe over a chicken’s neck. She swung so hard that she ended up missing, further loosening her grip on the chicken and scaring it away. Her father was furious with her that day. For days that followed she recalled him muttering wishes for sons, for at least they would have mustered the willpower to kill the animal. It is not that she had ever desired to be a man, but she had always felt that her father would have loved her more if she had been born a he.

         In that moment she set down her sandwich and walked towards the rabbit, shewing it away. She then picked up the snail.

         “Strange,” she said. As she closely observed the tiny creature, she noticed the spiral of the shell was shifting and moving. The shell was a pale gray, sprinkled with what appeared to be stars. The shell thus appeared to showcase an image of the night sky.

         A voice called out from where she came from. “I would not look any further if I were you, you might see a future you were never intended to see.” Gianna whipped her head towards the noise. There, sitting on the same exact log she was sitting at was a woman. Her legs were crossed, and her hand reached for the sandwich Gianna had set down. “Who are you? How did you suddenly appear where I was a moment ago? I did not hear anyone approach me?” Gianna inquired, reaching for her knife. “Ah, I have heard that I have such quiet footfall. I did not mean to alarm you. I apologize. My name’s Margery, but I prefer Marg. I simply was answering a distressed call from my friend there.”

         “Friend? What friend? It is just us here.” Marg then lifted the sandwich up to her mouth and took a small bite. “You don’t mind right?” Gianna did mind. “And that. That is my friend. It likes to go by Cosmos though.” Marg was pointing at the snail in Gianna’s hand. “This… snail is your friend?” Gianna asked inquisitively. “Well, Cosmos likes to act like we are not sometimes. That’s why it ran away you see. You know how friends are.”

         “Ah… I see.” Gianna did not see. She had heard stories of the interesting people inhabiting parts of the forest, but she had never taken any of those stories to heart. They all came across as wives-tales, exaggerations; fantasies if you will.

         “It seems to like you. Look it is producing mucus in your hand. It took Cosmo weeks to feel comfortable doing such a thing with me.” Marg said this with a smile on her face. Gianna could not tell if the twinkle in her eye the result of pure happiness or madness. “Well… I am glad to hear it… I guess. I did not mean to touch your snail. It seemed to be in danger from that rabbit earlier.”

         “Nasty things rabbits are. They’re great for stewing up though. And you do not need to apologize. In fact, I should thank you. Cosmos seems tough but is still a snail. Frail little things.”

         “If I may ask… how did a snail run away from you? I mean, they are such slow creatures. It just seems a bit…”

         “Crazy.” Marg finished. Their eyes met for a brief second and in that moment, Gianna studied Margery’s features. A soft glow seemed to radiate off her skin. Her cheeks were slightly flushed. Her eyes were the color of sea-foam green, and her hair, wheat blonde. She was dressed in red, standing out against the neutral, earth-tones of the forest. She had chiseled features that made Gianna think that if she were not dressed in such a manner, with such wild long hair, she would be very popular in Gianna’s home village. Gianna had only one word to describe such a person.

         “Gorgeous,” Marg blurted out. “Absolutely precious. In all my years of traversing in the forest I have not met a stranger such as yourself. Although, it is strange. Why are you wearing white. It is so easy to get dirty, especially here?”

         Gianna felt shy at that moment. “It is how my betrothed desires to see me when I meet him. Carriages cannot make it on such unruly ground, so I must traverse by foot to meet him.”

         Marg set the sandwich down on hearing this. “My, my, my, you are to be married but you have not met your fiancé. What a thing. And to take such a route in a place such as this. Are you parents not aware of bride snatching?”

         “They are but nothing could be done. It is as you say. I have not met him. Even though that is the case my mother told me that I still must look my best. He did pay a lot for me.”

         Marg seemed to frown at this statement. Her hands moved to rest on the log, her fingers tapping impatiently against the wood. “How… lovely” she said, not trying to appear rude in front of Gianna. “Well, it is quite dangerous out here. Since you helped Cosmos here I do not mind being your guide for the rest of Vales. As you must have heard there are quite the characters that dwell here… I can say that I am the few you must worry about.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

         Gianna seemed surprised by this. “Oh, I could not ask of such from you. I have been fine on my own so far. I am sure I will be able to make it the rest of the way.

         “Nonsense. Besides the first of the forest is not the hard part… beyond the river is where you should worry.” Marg’s voice seemed more serious with this statement. Although her sitting position read relaxed the tone of her voice seemed concerned for Gianna. “Look, I do not mind. Besides, I was planning to head that route anyways. There is a patch of mushrooms that grow at the edge of the forest on that side. I have been needing some more for… cooking.” She cleared her throat at this. “Just take it as me not being indebted to you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

         Gianna briefly thought about this arrangement. She went over to the woman and sat next to her. She set the snail carefully down between the two of them and picked up her sandwich. “Then I am grateful for you.” She took a bite of her sandwich and thought about the strange encounter, of the night sky image on the snail, and of the woman next to her. Marg remained seated next to her, waiting patiently for her to finish her sandwich.

…

         They had been walking for a while when Gianna finally broke the silence. “Do… you notice anything strange about your snail.” She wanted to be subtle, so as not to appear strange. What sane person sees a night sky on a snail’s shell. Either the heat of the afternoon traverse had gotten to her, or Marg was not sharing the full truth about herself.

         “Ah, are you referring to what you saw on the shell?” Marg said. She had been leading the way through the windy forest, moving away branches, rocks, and other objects to make the trip more bearable for Gianna. Her dress greatly appreciated this, for it had only snagged once.

         Gianna felt as if she would burst due to all the questions she had with this confirmation. “So, you do? What did you mean back there when we first met? Why can’t I look at the shell too long? What will happen? Why the night sky? Am I the only one seeing it? And what I saw? Can you not see the night sky?

         Marg chuckled at Gianna’s eagerness. Her face was scrunched and flushed, seemingly from holding in all those questions. “Hmm, well how should I put this? I technically do not see what you see. I can’t see the night sky on my dear friend’s shell here. And as for why you shouldn’t stare too long, Cosmos here shows the least undesirable future for anyone. In other words, you could say my friend showed you the future that will haunt you the most. Pleasant is it not?”

         “Then why is my future the night sky? I found it rather calming to look at,” Gianna responded.

         “Hmm maybe it is calming to you now, but sometime, somewhere, maybe in an alternative future, it will not be.

         Gianna was becoming wearier of the person in front of her at this point. She then asked, “What do you mean?”

         “Well…” Marg paused briefly, tapping her finger against a tree as she passed it. “One of my past… clients had the same predicament… only they stared to long. What they saw in my little snail friend there ended up being a foreboding image of their last moments on this earth. Cosmos here it quite strong for such a tiny creature.”

         Gianna paused, scanning the person in front of her. She took a deep breath, hand hovering over her knife. “Who, no, what are you?”

         Marg turned to her, a grin forming. “I am no one of consequence. I will say though, that knife will do you no good. Even if I was in the mood to kill you, I would have done it ages ago.”

         Gianna was on high alert at this point. “You did not answer me.”

         Marg stepped back from the woman, hands up in defeat. “Look, I was not joking when I said I am one of the only living things not posing you any harm in this forest. And I was being truthful. I am someone of no consequence by your… villages logic.”

         Gianna’s eyes squinted at the women. “You’re a witch. That’s why you know this forest and you’re talking to snails. You—”

         “I wouldn’t say anything further. I might pose you any harm by not killing you… but you wouldn’t want me to change my mind if I felt you insulted me in any way. Witches are vindictive, aren’t they? Or I could drop you off at the doorsteps of an elder witch… ”

         Gianna backed away. “You—you wouldn’t. elder witch’s they—”

         “Feed off young women’s flesh, especially flesh as supple and beautiful as yours, why yes. Years being called an ugly hag will drive you too such things.” Marg said the last sentence while shrugging, as if it was a regular occurrence. “Or I could take you to my own home and feed you to my many snails! Their powers work after feeding only on human flesh!”

         Gianna backed too far away. Her foot snagged on a branch. She was about to fall backward when Marg grabbed her arm. Gianna felt horrified, but before she could protest at the touch of a witch, she suddenly witnessed a strange sight. The witch, a being that just threatened to feed her to her bloodthirsty snails was doubled over laughing. It was definitely madness in her eyes, Gianna thought.

         “I really had you going didn’t I! You should have seen your face. I’m—psshhahaha—I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. You are just so innocent. So fun to tease.”

         Gianna found herself stunned at that moment. “Are you… are you not a witch?”

         “I am.” Margery was wiping tears from her eyes, seemingly elated with the stunt she pulled.

         “Are you not going to feed me to your bloodthirsty snails?”

         “Ew, no! Can you imagine? Your blood would stain my floor and I just got them refinished.”

         Gianna’s right eyebrow twitched. “But your snails need human meat?”

         This statement caused Marg to let out a little snort. “As if! Cosmos is the only special snail that I have. The rest of my snails feed on leaves and flowers. Besides, do you really think you’ll be a worthy meal for my friend?” Marg looked Gianna up and down with this statement. “Although, I have some witches that wouldn’t mind taking a bite.”

         “Ah-ha! So, you still mean me harm! So, you’re going to feed to the elder witch then!”

         “Uh… no. It’s a bit rude don’t you think to believe every older witch wants to feed on you… plus a bit narcissistic… No, Opal is in tune with nature. Really into preserving life or whatever. She’s a pretty good carpenter too. She actually was the one who put in my wood floors for me. If anything, she would force to help with her shop.”

         Gianna’s mind was turning at this. “So, you mean me no harm?”

         “Correct.”

         “And your friends mean me no harm?”

         “Bingo.”

         “Then… well… hmm but are you not a witch.”

         Marg threw up her hands in frustration and let out a deep sigh. “Would I be helping you if I did not?? Do you automatically assume that every witch means you harm?? How prejudiced! Do they not teach you more worthwhile things in school? Like the fact that the earth is not flat?”

         “What…?”

         Marg held her hand to her temple and began pacing in front of Gianna. “Nevermind… well do you have anything else you want to interrogate me on?”

         Gianna’s face scrunched in thought. “What powers do you have?? What can you do?? How do I know that you’ll be able to protect me?”

         Marg stopped pacing at this and crossed her arms. A look of disgust formed on her face. “You want me to show you, my powers? Why do I have to prove myself. I’m not a monkey. I’m a witch.”

         “Ah I’m sorry!” Gianna paused, wondering how she should continue. “I’ve just met a witch before.”

         “Really! I could not tell!” Marg exclaimed sarcastically. She then scanned Gianna once more. Settling her mind, she began. “I am what those who wield and do not wield magic call a hedge witch. I can do simple things like divination, talking with spirits and gods, and even read you your future if you’d like. But I possess a much greater gift, the gift of traveling between plains of existence. If you will, I possess the unique ability of helping people once they… pass on, for I exist in both the spiritual world and this.”

         Gianna found her head spinning. Helping people once they pass on? Why does that sound familiar. The woman was racking her brain, trying to decipher the person in front of her. She was familiar with many types of witches, for her pastor had spoken heavily on the topic of dark magic before, but she was unaware that hedge witches could be so powerful. In her biblical teachings they were mentioned to be solitary creature possessed with the gift of clairvoyancy, nothing of speaking with gods or goddesses, nor the dead was mentioned. Gianna looked slowly up at Marg when it suddenly clicked. “You’re death...? As in, you guide people into the afterlife?”

         “Spiritual world and more or less… yes. I handle spirits… they are my clients if you will.” Marg was watching Gianna intently. “You can sit down if you need to. I understand non-magic users like yourself are not used to such a talk.” She found her hand guiding towards Gianna’s at that moment, scared that she would pass out at any second.

         The woman drew her hand away from the witch and turned her head to the right. She paled in the time of Marg telling her who she was. Swaying slightly, she leaned on a tree for support. “You—are you with me right now because I’ll die soon?”

         Margery’s eyes raised at this. She stepped toward the women, careful to avoid touching her. Their eyes met. “Your string of life is secure. You have my word. I truly meant it when I said I was grateful for you saving my friend. I am sure you can guess that being the grim reaper does not really allow for you to make many friends.”

         Gianna averted the witch’s gaze. She could feel her face getting less pale and more flushed. She also felt the blood return to her legs. “We should get going. We’ll lose daylight if we continue talking like this. I must meet my betrothed soon.”

         Marg turned away from Gianna and began walking on the path again. “Very well, Gianna.”