A chilled wind carried autumn leaves across the sky littering the bank and river with flakes of red and yellow. Trickling water chimed beneath a rusling forest filling the small valley with the sound of quietness and isolation.

 A gravel road twisted through the valley and spanned the river with a simple board wood bridge. The river below was shallow and cool in autumn, no more than an ankle thin sheet over its stone bed. Many larger stones sporadically perforated the water's surface creating small wakes and eddies.

A young boy, fourteen or fifteen set against one of the riverstones as the water rushed across his bare feet. He stripped off his clothes draping them over one of the protruding bridge struts before finding a deep spot in the river to dip into. The water was turning cold with the weather and the boy would not be able to bath like this for many more days, he was dedicated to making the most of it. 

“Luka~”

The Siren call made his back bolt straight and face flush red.  He spun to see the grinning face of a girl leaning over the bridge rail. She whistled like a dockman would to a passing lady alerting to him that his reaction had exposed himself for all to see. 

His retreat behind a stone was swift but he maintained his gaze on the girl on the dridge. 

“W.. Wh… Why are you here?” he stuttered from behind his earthen shield.

“Grandpa wants you back for dinner~” She replied while her eyes casually drifted over the rock.

“And that required you to come out here?” 

“Not at all…”

Her name was Amelia and she was a tall girl with chestnut hair. She was older by no more than a year but used every one of those days like a crowbar to lever herself as his better. They had been raised together since they were both young even bathed together but their relationship had become more and more awkward as they grew. 

They traded their glances for a brief moment.

*sigh* she turned with a reluctant sigh and as if having lost a game, hiding the flush in her cheeks as she turned to leave. 

His breath started to return to him slowly as he turned to look at the back of the girl as she walked through the forest path. She would always act in brazen ways doing what she wanted without debate or hesitation. It was her nature, seemingly fearless. He however, when confronted could barely hear his thoughts through his own heart beat.

‘Cowardly’ he thought.

He finally left the shelter of the stone. How could she be so calm in that case Luka thought. ‘What let her act so rashly…. Should I have acted so couredly… maybe if I asked her to join?..’ His thoughts wandered from frustration with her behavior to imagery of her body and he quickly slapped himself to suppress the images of sun tanned skin and exposed flesh before they could overwhelm him.

‘Ignore her teasing’ he told himself as he prepared to return home.

Home was a caravan, camped in a bit of woodland clearing on a side road out of public eye.  The camp was made of wagons and trailers inter woven with tents and leans each decorated with patterns and symbols with totems and talismans decorating their rafters.  This was their home, At least for the winter it would be.

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“Good afternoon little Luka.” 

“Afternoon to you boy” two voices came from behind.

Luka spun to see a man and woman behind him both of them wore heavily patterned drapes splattered with blood and draped a pair of antlers over their shoulders. The woman carried a rabbit, bisected and limp by the ears, her other hand carried a large dirk and the man following her carried two more of the beast. To Luka they were aunt Nora and uncle Moritz, Amelia’s mother and father along with his own part time caregivers. 

“Afternoon” he returned.

Their appearance did nothing to offset him, In fact it was barely irregular. Both aunt Nora and uncle Moritz considered themselves druids, practicers of the celtic magics and they were not alone. Every member of the cam seemed to practice some form of magic be it druitic rituals, forchantelling, alcomies, astrologies. Because of this the camp was known to the outside world as a band of witches and warlocks. This invited flack and hate from the local townsfolk along with tormant and segregation, however the same people who threw muk would still sneak out of town for protective charms and fortunes. 

It was hypocritical in Luka’s eyes but non the less built the backbone of the caravan.

“A ritual?” asked Luka looking at the gutted rabbit.

“Warding the woods for sickness this winter” replied Nora.

“Are you interested in learning the arts?”

Luka turned his head to ponder. He felt a brush of hot air against his ear.

“I have quite a few spring dances that require a virgin pair” Nora whispered.

The statement hit Luca like a hammer, his face flushed red as his imagination ran rampant with the words.

He stuttered. “I.. I.. Have to get back to the gramps. B...buy now.”

He barely got the words out before he turned to flee.

“Why torment the boy?” Moritz asked.

“ME!!!!.. I have done no such thing!” Nora protested

“ I mealy offered the chance to learn our magics, how he interpreted the words is his doing” 

Her promiscuous character and brazen nature were on full display and their daughter often felt like her mirror copy.  When they were younger Nora had staked him out like a lion would its kill, he loved his wife truly but, He could only sigh for Luka.

As Luka walked through the camp he was met with greetings and stopped to converse. About 200 or so men and women made up the caravan and most know each other by name. People danced around fires, shared meals, traded stories and supplies for the winter; Food, cloth, kerasin, and timber were being stockpiled. Work and play where all around him, boys boasting over fires, girl gossiping, elders weaving stories and reading bones, the camp was alive.

“Luca~” The call teased his ear, this time however it was less tempting and more famil. 

“Welcome back boy” Amelia’s call was quickly followed by another, rougher and softer tone.

It was his grandfather, an old man in simple clothes, his hair was long and white both on his head and face. He wore a long dark trench coat and a small pair of wire glasses that hide a pair of youthfully bright eyes. 

He stirred a stew pot in front of his carriage sides opened to show the engorged piles of books and papers piled inside. Amelia set in its belly flipping through the layers of leather bound text and his grandfather leisurely sipped at the brewing stew in his cauldron. 

This was his home.

*RING..RING..RING..RING*

In a far off villa the ringing of the bell declared the end of sunday mass as crawleds walked out through the church yards. 

“Knock knock” Inside the church someone knocked on the hall’s doors.

Father Jonathan was collecting himself at the podium after today's sermon. He was an aggressive speaker and of the fire and brimstone doctrine so he often got caught up in his own character during his sermons. 

He looked up from his podium to see the two men at the door. 

“Please enter,” He said.

“To whom do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Two men walked into the door, one dressed in black and the other in white robes.

“You owe this visit to the will of god my friend” the black robed man spoke.

Father Jonathan looked at the man crossly. Regardless if the man's words were in reverie or respect he had wished for their names, not a pandering. 

“Forgive my fellow here he is young and overly excited.” said the man in white.

He was a hefty set fellow clean shaven and well groomed. 

“I am Bishop Daniel and this is father Peter” he followed.

“An honor to have you here bishop. So what can I owe this visit?”

“As father Peter has stated we are here on mission and would like to speak with you”

“To speak with me?, About what?” father Jonathan inquired.

“Witch's father.. We wish to speak of witches.”