It had taken more than a few silent moments for Autumn’s tired mind to connect the name “Goldbrow” with the serpent she had killed. She fumbled with the cords, tying it to her pack before she could free it and handed it over to the demoness Nethlia. Retrieving it, she turned it over and gave an impressed whistle, seeing the single strike to the skull that had ended it.

“Impressive.”

Autumn blushed in embarrassment and pride as she showed off the holes in her sleeve.

“More like just lucky.” She rasped, “Umm…my name’s Autumn, by the way.”

Nethlia blinked, surprised at Autumn’s name.

“Huh, never heard of anyone named after one of the seasons before.”

“Really?” Autumn asked in slight disbelief.

“Yeah,” Nethlia nodded as she examined the witch before her, “it’s kind of. What’s the word, inauspicious? Domains of the gods, you know.”

Autumn shrugged.

“That’s what I was named.”

“Fair enough, I guess. You go grab a seat by the fire. I’ll just be in the kitchen for a second. Feel free to grab an ale or something. It’s on the house.”

Turning swiftly, Nethlia returned to the kitchen whence she had come and as she did so a long demonic tail that tapered from thick to thin till a heart-shaped spade smoothly followed behind her swinging hips.

Autumn tore her gaze away and massaged her brow.

With a foaming pint in hand, Autumn gently made her way to the fireplace, now conscious of the mess she was leaving behind. The pillow was the softest of comforts to the beleaguered girl; she almost let out a moan of relief as the pressure left her battered feet.

As the warmth of the fire and the ale engulfed her, she drifted off, her weary eyes unable to fight off her awaiting slumber. Worn from the travels and tribulations, she shielded her eyes beneath her hat for just a moment to rest. She must not have been sleeping long, as a soft clink of wood on wood interrupted her dreamless rest after maybe a handful of minutes.

She awoke with a jolt.

Her heart beat a frightened rhythm once more as she sought the sound. Before her was a steaming bowl of stew resting on a small table. Above her, the imposing form of Nethlia lingered, trying her best not to loom.

An apologetic smile graced her lips.

“Sorry for the fright. Your meal is ready. It might not be the best, but I added a few bits I had on hand. I’m not sure what humans eat, so.” Nethlia shrugged at the end.

The snake she had killed had been quickly steamed and shredded before being mixed in with a bone broth and some assorted vegetables. To the side of the tray sat a dense piece of gray bread. With how hungry she felt, Autumn would have eaten anything placed before her.

“Please take your time. I’ll go get your room ready. Call out if you need anything.” Nethlia said softly before heading off.

Autumn was far too invested in devouring her meal to give more than a muffled response.

It was deliciously mouth-watering and, paired with the spice of hunger, it was even better. The serpent was far gamier than she was used to, but the pleasure of eating something that tried to kill her was worth it. The bread, while a little odd-looking, didn’t taste half bad, especially after soaking up the remaining broth. Before she knew it, she’d scraped the bowl clean and what she left of the bread was only a few scant crumbs.

Broken from her hunger-induced trance, Autumn noticed Nethlia had just returned. Upon seeing the witch finished with her meal, she gestured over to herself at the far end of the building opposite to the entrance. A hallway led off from the dining hall, housing a series of doors on either side.

Wincing as she put pressure back on her aching feet, Autumn followed behind the tall demoness. She hobbled through the dimly lit hallway and into an open doorway where a small bedroom was located.

“Here’s the key to your room for the night,” Nethlia said while holding out a dull brass key. “I got some hot water in a small basin and a washcloth. No offense meant, but you look like you need it.”

Autumn took the key from her outstretched hand, hardly minding the quip.

“Thank you for your help, even though I couldn’t pay.”

“It’s no matter; we bartered and everything. Besides, my ma always told me to be courteous to strangers that appear randomly in the night. You don’t know who they might be. Especially spooky witches, not that you’re spooky or anything.”

At Autumn’s tired blank look, the demoness awkwardly retreated from the room while closing the door behind her.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

There wasn’t much to say about the room she had found herself in, it was comfortable looking. A large single bed dominated the right-hand side, covered in heavy and warm-looking furs in the same deep red of the cows she had spied before. Beside the bed and below a shuttered window sat a bedside table, illuminated by the thinnest strands of moonlight. On top, a candle merrily flickered away, casting a glow that lit the room.

Aside from that, there was only the promised washbasin that was steaming with hot water.

The door locked with a satisfying click and Autumn undressed from her tattered and stained apparel. Mud-caked boots landed with a dull thud upon stone and blood-soaked socks and bandages too fell with a splat.

While the healing cream had done its work, her rough travels had threatened to undo it all; the soles of her feet were raw and red.

Autumn’s hat found a spot securely upon the bedpost, and her dirty clothes went onto the floor.

Gently, she wiped her battered and bruised nude body down, wiping away the rigors of her arduous journey. The bucket of water steadily grew darker and darker as blood, dirt, and grime was cleansed; colors mingled into patterns of gore and filth. Human once more, Autumn took the very last dregs of healing cream that remained and carefully covered her trauma; the numbing spread blissfully into every wound until only a bare ache remained.

The spare underclothes became her nightwear, and she scurried under the warm furs like a joyous rat.

Drowsily, she watched the candle flame dance and sway till sleep captured her.

Perhaps it was too soon or maybe a long time coming, but before she knew it, a warm morning sun broke over the rolling hills and fields; it chased away the dreams and nightmares that plagued mortal minds.

Sunny fingers of fiery light crept between the slats and into the bedroom. The hibernating creature of coiled hair and darkened sockets felt its grace fall upon her cheek, stirring her from her slumber. Autumn blinked in confusion, as she had almost forgotten what the sun felt like. All she had seen was the dark of the night and the horrors hidden within.

The great ornery bear let out a groan of frustration still and buried herself deeper in the warm cave of soft furs she had created.

Morning couldn’t be denied forever and as it thawed her limbs, it also sought to bake her in her hidey-hole. The heavy scent of roasted meats and baked bread started wafting into the room. The delightful scents of the inn as it came alive were too much, and her yearning appetite overpowered Autumn’s desire to sleep.

From a fabric and fur cocoon, the witch emerged with a fair bit of reluctance. What spawned forth would have frightened all; upon Autumn’s head was a bird’s nest of tangled hair to a nightmarish degree. Luckily, no one was around to see as Autumn combed it as best she could with what fingers she had left. A futile effort to create a presentable appearance. Now entirely awake, she found herself mortified by the sheer amount of twigs she had sported yesterday.

She could have made a small tree out of them.

Her nightwear stuck unpleasantly to her skin with sweat, so she disrobed and sat naked on her bed, basking in the warm sun as it kissed her skin.

She was sore all over; her entire body was a map of discolored bruises and the entire side of her body that had impacted the root was black and blue. Feeling along her tender side, she was glad to find nothing out of place or broken.

Minor miracles.

The paste she had applied last night had shifted the soles of her feet from an angry raw red to a tender pink; not entirely healed, but a great deal better.

From her battered canvas bag, Autumn retrieved her remaining set of clean clothes. The discarded ones from yesterday still lay crumbled and dirty at the foot of the bed. Stains and tears from her panicked flight had thoroughly ruined them. Not even a needle and thread could save them.

She doubted they would even survive a single wash with how threadbare they were.

Autumn saluted the fallen.

“Ouch.”

Autumn’s arm had protested the movement.

The blood-soaked bandages she had left to bathe in the basin were still a horror show. If she wanted them clean, she’d have to boil them somehow, but she doubted she’d even bother. Her feet had stopped bleeding at the very least.

Blood and sweat had left her socks and boots an absolute mess and it had absorbed into the inside of the boots while the rocks and roots she had tripped upon had broken the leather. Currently, they sat at the far end of the room. The powerful stench had her reeling in disgust even from there.

Hopefully, Nethlia had something like soap or lye to clean them.

After struggling into her tattered clothes with minimal cursing, Autumn placed the heavy hat upon her unruly twilight mane. With bare feet she strode out of the bedroom, trying to display a level of confidence she didn’t feel.

Behind her, she locked her door. Not that she had much to steal, but it comforted her to do so.

As a focal point of the local community, the inn was rather busy in the morning sun. Roughly a dozen demons and demonesses had gathered. Their skin color ranged widely from bright reds and oranges to dark purples and greens. Every one of them was tall, taller than her at least, but none came up to the height that Nethlia towered at. She looked like a titan amongst her people.

From the kitchen came forth plate after plate of meats that glistened, and dark gray ales poured forth heavy barrels. As she watched, the hamlet’s denizens ferried the food and drinks outside to share in a communal meal beneath the breaking sun.

Lost in her observations, she didn’t immediately notice when the demon folk first saw her standing there, but it soon became apparent as they all stared warily at her.

Before Autumn could muster up the courage to address them, Nethlia came to her rescue.

“What are you lot staring at? You’ll scare away my customer.” She barked at the loitering demons and demonesses.

“Nethlia, ain’t that a witch?” One farmer questioned fearfully.

“All the more reason to stop staring, now get.”

With a last nervous glance, the folk dispersed outside, leaving Autumn and Nethlia alone in the Inn’s interior.

“Sorry about that. They mean no harm, just curious, that’s all. We don’t get many witches in these parts, humans either. If that’s what you are, I don’t mean to assume.” Nethlia apologized.

“Yeah,” Autumn coughed lightly before continuing, “human, just human. Uh, you said something about a coin exchange yesterday. It’s just that I have little to trade unless you have an alchemist about.”

“Around these parts? Not likely. You’ll find one up in Duskfields. That’s the local city to the north.”

Autumn’s face fell as a day hungry loomed before her.