Deep in the ancient forests near the center of the world was a house. Not a modern one, paneled with glass, or a rotting one, falling apart. More of a cottage with a roof of moss and rough walls. A homely place where they naturally felt at home. Flights were welcomed into the burrows and crevices, gardens adorned with colorful herbs and gem-like berries that feed the wandering souls of the forest.
In this house lived a commonly uncommon being. A girl, who loved bread. Not that that is uncommon, her uniqueness came from her vision and her means to achieve it.
Although home for nature is hardly a home for a human and before they knew her demeanor they tried to let her know so. Legendary bears and cunning wolves knocked upon her door declaring her to be unwelcome. Yet they have brushed away and called rude hosts, sovereigns of the forest being berated by a young girl. A sight few would ever believe.
Halfway through the bend of wrapping their heads around the situation, violence crossed their mind of course. This was the nature of things, eat your problems. But alas before the first blood was drawn, buns of soft dough were stuffed into their mouths. A sensation, unlike flesh and sinew. Soft, warm, like cubs playing on a summer's evening. They decided to grant her amnesty.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
Years went by, and the witch wandered the woods, always making new doughy concoctions. And whilst in the middle of her activities, she was summoned by an elder of the forest, a great tree.
The tree complained to her. She wasn’t treating the residents of the forest equally. Her pickings were of the plants of the forest that fed her and the animals, but she never took the life of an animal for her ingredients.
So were the plants below her and the animals? She’d never thought of it, yet did not long to respond.
Not below her or the animals, but indebted to her. Although she collected them she also cared about them and rooted out their diseases and ailments often. So she concluded a blood sacrifice was necessary.
She went back to her ovens humming, and the flora earned a new fear in their hearts. This was not the end of her problems.
Not so soon after a demon entered the woods. Not a fiery one that harbors destruction but one of dust, of ash, of cold. A solitary being that knows not of what it wants. So it walked through the forest, not harming a thing nor making a sound. Pieces of it flaking off, the breeze, threatening the demon that it might blow away.
It found itself deep in the ancient forests near the center of the world at the doorstep of a house. A homely one filled with warmth and the clanking of pans.