The first half of the night featured a blurry nightmare in which a black spider was chasing me. The spider was quite determined to catch up to me. For some reason, it had a pentagram cut in half painted on its back. I wasn't sure what it all meant. Wasn't my domain and the virgin banners supposed to protect me against everything including bad dreams or did I have to make a dreamcatcher to avoid such things?

When the irksome spider caught up to me, jumping onto my face, fangs sinking into my nose, I did not wake with a scream.

Instead, I found myself jolting into existence inside Yaga Grandhilda's familiar hut once again.

"Ah, young Ioan," she said, eyeing me critically. "It seems you've managed to survive two weeks without my guidance. Well done.”

“Did you miss the entertainment I provide you with?" I shot back, my heart still pounding due to spider-related nightmare.

"Oh, you have no idea," Grandhilda cackled. "I've definitely been on the edge of my seat wondering what sort of trouble you'd get yourself into next."

I rolled my eyes at her teasing. "No trouble. I did get a…”

“A kitten," Grandhilda said before I finished.

“How did you…?” I sputtered, fearing that the witch was watching me in the Astral or something and already knew that I was roaming all over Svalbard murdering Elks and people with arrows.

Grandhilda pointed a long, dark nail at my lap. I looked down to discover a warm, fuzzy, black ball there radiating warmth and purring ever so slightly in her sleep.

“W-what?” I blinked, unsure of how the kitten had followed me into the shared dream of the witch-communion.

Was Stormy secretly a witch or…

"It seems you've acquired a familiar without even trying,” Yaga commented. “How... quaint."

"Familiar?" I blinked. "You mean Stormy? She's just a cat I found sitting on the steps of a pub that I adopted.”

The old witch cackled again, slapping her moss-covered armrest. "Oh, you naive boy. There's no such thing as ‘just a cat’ when it comes to witches!"

“You’ve got a familiar too then?” I asked.

The Yaga snapped her finger and a black raven suddenly materialized on her shoulder. The raven examined me and Stormy with brilliant green eyes, nodded and vanished as if it had never existed to begin with.

“Acorn’s a little shy ‘round other witches,” the Yaga commented. “He prefers to stay out of the dream, but he’s always watching out for trouble and occasionally flies over my land to keep an eye out for Jotuns.”

“Are Jotuns a problem for you then?” I asked.

“This one was,” Grandhilda tapped her elk skull.

I stared at her skull mask, a realization dawning on me. The skull wasn’t exactly shaped like that of an elk. It was longer, and misshapen, had an extra pair of eye-holes in it that definitely didn't belong to an elk.

“Took me four hundred years to trap and drown this bastard,” she said with a smug look. “His brother is a lot more clever and is still quite the bother."

"Why are Jotuns targeting you specifically?" I asked.

Grandhilda's expression darkened, her eyes taking on a haunted look. "It's not just me they're after, young Ioan. There's a Gygr living at the North-West edge of the Shalish wood. She's the one sending these Jotuns after me, and likely will target you as well, especially after your... ill-advised blood magic experiments."

I felt a chill of unease run down my spine. "Gygr?"

The old witch sighed heavily, picking up a cup of tea from a moss-covered table. "A Gygr is a witch who has strayed from the path of balance and wisdom. She's forsaken her connection to Mother Earth and instead draws power from death and decay, from Nox, the Goddess of the Void. This particular Gygr was once a sister witch to me long ago, but she became obsessed with extending her power beyond natural means… using rather nasty methods."

"And now she's after other witches?" I asked.

"Yes," Grandhilda nodded. "She seeks to harvest the blood of other witches and bones of men to fuel her own twisted desires."

“You know, this sounds like something important that would be nice to tell me earlier,” I commented.

“Speaking of her existence in the Astral would only permit her to target you sooner,” the Yaga sighed. “Thankfully, you’ve got a familiar now, which will delay her search for you. Your fuzzy cloud is the only reason I have spoken of the threat of the Gygr now."

"How exactly is a kitten supposed to protect me from a powerful dark witch and her oversized monster minions?" I demanded.

"Your little 'Stormy' is now bound to you magically. She'll be able to chase tracker-spirits away from your domain, grow in power as you do, live as long as you do, and likely develop abilities beyond those of a normal cat as her eyes change color," Grandhilda explained. "Familiars are conduits for magic, protectors, and companions all rolled into one fuzzy package. She will be able to sense Jotuns too before they arrive!”

Stormy wiggled on my lap and opened a single, violet eye to look at the Yaga.

“Since when are your eyes violet?” I asked her.

“Mr-mrrw,” Stormy yawned, stretching.

"So… how do I... train her to detect Jotuns or whatever?” I turned my head back to the witch.

Grandhilda laughed. "Train her? Oh, my dear boy. You don't train a familiar like some common house pet. You nurture them, care for them, and most importantly, you trust them. The magic will do the rest."

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She was being irritatingly vague again.

Grandhilda chuckled at my expression. "Even mundane cats can perceive the Astral to some degree, young Ioan. They're natural Seers, capable of observing spirits and glimpsing potential futures. Even mortal Nordstaii women sometimes notice this when they observe their pet cat staring at absolutely nothing on a wall.”

"Is that so?" I petted my ball of fur, producing a deeper purr.

"Yes," the witch nodded sagely. "Have you ever wondered why cats are so indecisive at doors? They're not just being fickle. They're perceiving multiple potential futures, weighing the outcomes of each choice."

I raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You're telling me that when a cat sits in a doorway, meowing to go out, then changing its mind when you open the door, it's... calculating the future?"

Grandhilda laughed heartily. "In a manner of speaking, yes. Cats are deeply connected to the spiritual, for them there is no need for any grand complex reasoning. Cats just know the best outcome. Why do you think they suddenly jump sometimes for no apparent reason? That is because they get spooked by a future spiritual encounter, see something dangerous that didn't happen yet.”

I glanced down at Stormy, who was now awake and watching our conversation with unsettlingly violet eyes. "So, you're saying Stormy here can see the future just like a witch, knows how everything ends and begins? How does that even work?"

"Not quite," Grandhilda corrected. "A familiar, especially one as young as yours, doesn't have perfect future sight. But they have... Incredible intuition. They know where they are because they know where they aren't. By subtracting where they are from where they aren't, or where they aren't from where they are - whichever is greater - they obtain a difference, a deviation from the expected path of fate."

I blinked, trying to wrap my head around her words.

"You're still thinking like a mortal boy Ioan.” Grandhilda sighed. “A cat’s actions, seemingly random to an ordinary human, are perfectly aligned with the ebb and flow of fate and the Astral currents they sense innately.”

"Mrow," Stormy commented, as if to confirm the witch's words.

"Do remember this, Ioan," Grandhilda warned, "a familiar is not just a tool. They're your partner in your magical journey. Treat Stormy with respect and love, and she'll be your most loyal ally against the void-afflicted eldritch shadows that lurk in the Underside of our world."

“How precisely can you see the future as a Volva-Yaga?” I asked her.

“There is no precision when it comes to foresight,” the witch said. “Mainly, a Yaga’s connection to the Astral in her dreams can reveal how she will die. It is the chorus of the garden itself, warning its caretaker of the danger. If you know what kind of an enemy threatens your life in the future, you can figure out when to hide or even how to make a potion or to make a deal with the spirits to protect yourself and your land. The level of dream-sight depends entirely on the skills, domain size and age of the witch.”

“Will I learn to see the future and have precognitive dreams?” I asked.

“Since you are a man I am uncertain if you will ever manifest precognition,” the Yaga said. “Quite frankly, creating you was a big gamble on my part. Had it not been for the cold and white blight ravaging the trees and fields, then you would have grown up less feeble and more like a proper warrior worthy of Perun.”

I shrugged, not feeling any shame from her biting words. Anorexia was an easily curable condition for a fully mobile witch with the access to Svalbard’s entire winter storage food supply. Was it even winter now? I wasn’t sure, since I had no idea how north Svalbard was.

“Familiars are your helpers who would be willing to do anything for you,” the Yaga added.

“Anything like…?”

“Developing potions and finding seeds,” the witch said. “A familiar is quite handy for a young witch as it can travel outside of her domain to fetch her things. I was quite concerned about your lack of spiritual progress but with a helpful familiar you can get your garden to bloom sooner.”

“Can any animal become my familiar?” I asked.

“Once an animal begins to eat food grown in your garden, they’ll become stronger and bind themselves to you. As long as a beast consumes the fruit of your making, they will become addicted to the power your land provides and won’t be able to leave your side,” the Yaga explained.

I nodded. Were the fruits of my land addictive? Were the potions witches made… addictive too?

“If potions are made from the fruits of the witch’s garden can a person become the witch’s familiar if they drink enough of them?” I asked.

Grandhilda barked a dry laugh. “You must learn how to make your potions taste vile,” she said. “Dilute all potions with dirty water, rotting flesh and mud just enough so that mortals do not become addicted to them.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked.

“Then mortals will come and attempt to take the tasty potions by force,” she said. “That’s when you’ll have to drown them all in your glade and also be forced to deal with the consequences of their kin seeking vengeance. It is unpleasant and mortals take centuries to forget such things. I don’t recommend this course of action. Always dilute whatever you sell or gift to the mortals.”

“I see,” I said.

“My garden is different from yours, so I can’t give you exact instructions, only general advice,” she shrugged. “But I can help you with the basics. Your first step is to examine the unique flowers, grasses, and bugs in your glade and figure out what special properties they might possess.”

“How?”

“Taste them,” she smiled. “Most likely, they’ll have basic invigorating or calming effects. Feed a variety of your garden’s produce to your familiar. It shouldn’t hurt her and she’ll know if something is poisonous to boot.”

I pursed my lips, not sure how Stormy would communicate to me about how poisonous something was.

“If your kitten is smart enough she might even be able to guide your potion-making!” The Yaga said. “Just tell her what you want made and she will help you pick out the best ingredients.”

Great now I have to listen to a kitten about how to make potions.

“If you crush specific grasses from your domain into a powder and dilute them properly, then you can make pills or teas and sell them to Dyrkjarls and mortals who will eventually come by. Be a benevolent witch and you’ll be able to trade what you need and be treated with great reverence in turn. Be a malicious, unforgiving witch and you will be left in peace, while your forest will be respected and avoided by human hunters.”

I rubbed my chin, unsure if I was about to embark on a journey to becoming a local potion guru or a drug kingpin. Both had their appealing sides. The only problem was location–the wild arboreal forest I inhabited didn’t seem to have much traffic.

Eh, I could always relocate down south. Upon consideration, the equatorial rainforest seemed like the place most ripe for witches to exist in due to year-long sunshine and massive biodiversity.

“Wait, so is Stormy going to live longer because of me?” I asked.

“Stormy will remain a kitten forever if you so desire it,” the witch replied.

“Forever kitten…” I whispered as Stormy rubbed her adorable, pink button nose against my fingers.

"Can I just keep collecting kittens endlessly, make an infinite number of familiars?" I asked.

"No," the Yaga laughed. "You're far too young for that. The spirits in the witch's garden will naturally align themselves with a single familiar or two... maybe more as your domain grows. A witch cannot link herself with nor truly care for an infinite number of familiars. Stormy is your familiar because you care about her and she constantly spends her time together with you."

"Got it," I said.

“The sun rises. I believe that I have imparted sufficient wisdom for you to survive,” Grandhilda put her tree-grown cup of tea onto a table made from roots. “Good luck, young Ioan. I hope that by the next time we commune, be it in a few winters time or a few decades, you will learn how to meditate upon your earth and dip your fingers into the Astral.

"Do take care of your Master, Stormy," she addressed the kitten directly. "He may be just a foolhardy boy, but he's our little fool now. Keep him out of trouble, won't you, darling?"

"Mrow," Stormy replied, her violet eyes gleaming with what seemed like amusement.

The Yaga rose from her seat and slapped her hands and the dream shattered into green and violet stardust.