Season of the Witch ending

“You know-” Calla gasped as we ran faster- “I think I had-a dream about this once.”
“Really?” I puffed back.
“Yeah.  When I was-maybe five.  I don’t remember everything-just being chased by the house.”
“Did it have chicken legs?”
“Yeah.”  Her eyes widened.  “Maybe-an early vision?”
I shrugged, wincing at my already-aggravated broken wing.
“Wouldn’t-be surprised.”
I awkwardly pulled the towel out of my shirt,* and threw it over my shoulder.
“What’s that for?” Calla yelled.
“Is it doing anything?” I yelled back.
There was a gasp.  “Yes!”
Just in case, I looked over my shoulder.  And yes, just as I’d hoped, it had become a vast, glassy lake, right there in the forest.


Why Baba Yaga kept items in her hut that could be used against her, especially in easy reach of others, was anybody’s guess.  And you’d think she’d have learned from previous times dealing with people who used the same trick.  But maybe it was for the same reason that she wanted to steal the sword.  Arrogance.  Or following the proverb of “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
It slowed her down as we kept running; Baba Yaga couldn’t swim, and as I suspected, she didn’t have the patience to go around.  So I saw her forcing the hut to wade into the lake.  The hut didn’t like it; it squirmed, and shook, and finally jumped out of the water and refused to go back in, water dripping from the floorboards.


“You okay?” Calla suddenly asked.  Since the witch was briefly inconvenienced, we were going a bit slower-though not slow enough to be overconfident.
“...You’re asking this now?”
“You look pale.  And I’m not having to struggle to keep pace with you.  Tristan, I think your wound’s worse than you’re acting.”
“I’m fine, kid.  I’ve got my adrenaline-”
Which is when I started to see colored spots before my eyes.  Because whoever is control of these things loves their moments of irony.


Calla muttered something that was almost a curse, but not quite, and then grabbed my arm, draping it over her shoulders.
“That’s gonna slow you down,” I protested.
“I’m not leaving you.  Xen would never forgive me.”
“Better get this out, then.”  I fumbled around until I got the comb.  “Lake’s probably not gonna hold her for long-”
Sure enough, we heard the sound of the mortar riding the wind across the lake.  I didn’t bother to look this time, focusing on running.
Calla said indignantly, “It flies far better for her than it did for me!”
“Well-” I gasped- “it is her mortar.”


Time for the comb.
I tossed it, just long enough to see it starting to grow into a giant impenetrable forest,** and kept going without looking back.

***

Much to my relief, Baba Yaga did not continue chasing us.  At least, not that I could sense, even though my abilities were a little off par at the moment, so she could have flown past us dressed as a belly dancer playing an accordion, and I might not have noticed.


Eventually we made it into a town with a teleportation mirror, and took the first opportunity to get home.  We materialized in the kitchen...where I’m ashamed to admit that I promptly passed out.
Hey, it had been a long week for me, okay?  And I’d just gone through a lot of physical exertion while suffering from severe blood loss; don’t judge me.


My last conscious thought was, Well, I can add this to my list of Times Tristan felt Useless.
It seemed like all I’d done the entire time was be captured/at the mercy of more powerful beings, and rely on others to do things for me.  I mean, it’s not that I wasn’t grateful to Xen, Morgan and Calla for finding out what I wanted to know, or the vodyanoy-duck for leading me to where the soul was kept...I just felt like I spent more time being acted upon than doing any acting of my own.  Definitely not my finest hour.


I regained consciousness to find myself in bed.  My limbs felt heavy, making me realize after a moment that Xen must have bitten me to keep me paralyzed for some reason.
How long have I been here?
My eyes slowly flicked open, and caught sight of Xen sitting by the side of the bed, glaring at me in a way that made me nervous.
Seeing I was awake, before I could even try to speak, she leaned down and kissed me.  Which felt wonderful, after everything I’d been through.
When she finally stopped, I gasped, “For a moment I thought you were going to hit me.”
“I did consider it.  But decided I’d rather do this.”
“Is there a reason why I’m paralyzed?”
“So you stay in bed until your blood cells have sufficiently multiplied.”
“Geez, doc, you’re taking your practice very seriously.”
She glared at me again.  “You have a bad habit of underestimating the extent of your injuries.  While that can be an admirable quality, it also makes me occasionally want to strangle you.”


“...How’s our son?” I asked.
Xen finally smiled.  “Waiting for his daddy to get better.  He keeps wanting to come in and play with you.  I had to be firm and tell him to let you sleep.”
My throat constricted.  “Well...can I at least see him before bedtime?”
“Of course.  Until then, go back to sleep.”
“Yes, boss,” I sighed.

***

So far there have been no nasty repercussions from Baba Yaga or Koschei the Deathless.  But we’ve been on alert, just in case.  And trying our best to recuperate.  Xen’s had me on a lot of bed rest while my blood cells regenerate and my broken wing finishes healing.  Phil plays with me as often as he can, and hopefully soon I’ll be strong enough to carry him on my shoulders again.  Calla’s been very quiet and thoughtful about whatever the witch told her.  I haven’t pushed about it, figuring she’ll tell me if she wants to, but I am undeniably curious.
For now, though, I’m trying to enjoy life with my family until some new catastrophe hits us.

* Snapping off a button in the process; dang it.
**Which, if the story was correct, she wouldn’t be able to go through, and every time she tried to fly over it it would just grow higher.  And trying to chop down the trees with her iron teeth would just result in splinters in her mouth.  Hopefully she wouldn’t try her magic instead; I wasn’t sure if it was resistant against that.

TANSTAV part 6

Chapter Three
After some brief...distraction, I return to my investigation

My apartment is across the street from my office, making for an easy commute. It's located on the top floor of the building, tucked in a corner. The place has a living room, bedroom, kitchen, and a bathroom, all packed together snugly (which is my nice way of saying the blasted apartment was small and cramped). Fortunately, when the mirror transported us to my apartment, it placed us in the bathroom, so that when I doubled over, swinging Calla over one shoulder in the process, I puked bile into the tub, and not onto my carpet. Speak of the devil, Calla did not react at all to my regurgitation. She drooped against my back, shivering, with her arms wrapped tightly around her ribs, as if she were trying to hold herself together. Once my convulsions stopped, I turned her towards me so that I could see her face. She stared vacantly at the ceiling; obviously, she was still in shock. I got to my feet, and carried her to the bedroom.

Now, shame on you if you're thinking what I think you're thinking. I had just barely met the kid, for heaven's sake! Furthermore, that was the farthest thing from my mind at the moment; I was focused entirely on helping her! Sheesh.

As I was saying, I took Calla into the room. Since gargoyles sleep by turning to stone, and I usually preferred to do that in the living room after a late-night movie, on the sofa, I rarely used it. Before tucking her under the covers, I took the time to remove her shoes, making a mental note to find some new clothes for her. Her eyes had gained some flickering of comprehension, and she looked at me with a slightly questioning expression, though still not meeting my eyes. Gently, I used two of my claws to push her eyelids shut

"It's okay, kid," I whispered. "Go to sleep.”

About 30 seconds later, she complied. It was as I sat there, watching her, that it came to me how much trouble I had gotten myself into.

Aiding and abetting a malefactor, refusing to comply with protocol, taking home evidence against the wishes of an officer of the law- I'd be lucky to make it to tomorrow with my life, let alone my job. Any moment, I expected the chief to come pounding down my door, along with a whole hoard of police trolls, nightmares, and the like, armed to the teeth with stun guns, handcuffs, and elemental chains. But surprisingly, knowing what I could possibly look forward to did not make me regret my decision. I knew this kid wasn't up to the rigorous questioning that they would put to her down at the station right now. Since she was technically an adult, and had caused extensive damage to property, not to mention committed accidental manslaughter, they would probably just lock her up in one of the cells. No, Calla was better off here with me. And I didn't know why, but I wanted instinctively to protect her. It might have been the helplessness of her situation, or how calmly she accepted the fact that she was a monster. Or, it might have been the fact that she still felt some compassion towards her father, despite the kind of man he obviously had been. Granted, as I said before, she might have had Battered Woman Syndrome. It was still pretty admirable.

After a while, I left the room, finally remembering to take off my sunglasses, and went into the bathroom to clean up the mess I'd made in the tub. It wasn't that much work, just requiring me to turn on the shower and swish all the water and bile down the drain. As I finished, I looked over at my reflection in the mirror. My hair and beard (ever since I turned 16 I've taken great pains to grow a mustache and goatee, which are kind of scraggly, I'll admit) are both light brown, and were, as usual, in disarray. I used my claws to at least move my hair out of my eyes, so I could see. If you're curious, my eyes are a brilliant red, and glow in the dark. But that's nothing special. Most monsters (the nocturnal kind, that is) have eyes that glow, and quite a few have them in red. My wings and tail, like my skin, are pale grey, and slightly furry while I'm awake. I was wearing my typical work outfit of white button-up shirt, black slacks, and a tie (in this situation, it was orange and green plaid). Because my feet are huge, and I need them for climbing and clinging to things, I wore no shoes. That is typical for my species, and for most monsters with claws.

All in all, I think I'm a pretty handsome devil. Er, gargoyle. However, my preening was interrupted by a loud pounding on my apartment door, informing me that the police had arrived.