Clara must have sensed that I didn’t want to talk on the way back, because she didn’t try to strike up on a conversation as we made our way back. As soon as we arrived I stepped inside and practically slammed the door in her face.

  She didn’t really deserve that, but I wasn’t really in the right mental, or emotional, space to deal with her. Or anyone else for that matter.

  Instead I carefully removed Kaylee from my shoulder, placing her on the table before throwing my hat and coat on the floor and collapsing face down on the cot.

  “Mur?”

  “No, I’m not ok,” I whispered. “Even though I knew they wanted to know more about my past, and I tried to prepare myself mentally, it really didn’t make it any easier. Guess the memories are still a little raw.”

  I rolled over to my side, and pulled the hide blanket up over me. The meeting with the coven elders had exhausted me. I didn’t feel like crying, I had decided months ago that tears wouldn’t solve anything, I was just tired. Of everything.

  Kaylee jumped off the table and up onto the bed. For a minute I thought she would berate me, again, for the situation, but instead she just crawled under the pelt, curled up next to my chest, and started purring.

  That did more for my emotions than any words could and I cuddled my cat under the cover, slowly feeling the stress and pain drain out of me until I finally fell asleep.

  I managed to get my emotions back under control by the next morning, which was good because Clara showed up exceptionally early. She swept in the door, cloak billowing behind her like usual, and looked me over like a worried parent. “Considering how you were acting yesterday, and what Lady Thyra told me this morning, I half expected you to have run away during the night,” she told me quietly.

  “I considered it,” I admitted. “But running away without my weapons, horse, or any supplies seemed like a stupid idea.”

  I pulled out one of the chairs and sat heavily at the table before looking Clara over. “How can I help you today? You don’t seem to have brought the basket, so it’s not a supply run.”

  “The elders have already made a decision,” Clara declared quietly.

  “Wonderful. Were they so insulted by my manners that they sent you to retrieve my head?” I asked, half sarcastically.

  Clara shook her head. “After hearing about your background, and after evaluating your previous actions, they’ve decided to give you free reign of the coven, as long as I’m around to escort you. The other coven members have been asked to treat you with respect, but are not required to interact with you.”

  “When you’re escorting me,” I repeated flatly.

  “If you gain the trust of the other coven members you may be allowed to move around unescorted later,” Clara clarified. “If you decide you want to leave, I’ll escort you to the edge of the coven’s lands, return your horse, guns and broom, then give you enough supplies to reach the nearest non-Graves aligned town.”

  “What if I want to stick around but still want my pistols?” I asked.

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  Clara just gave me a disappointed look, and shook her head.

  “Why not? It’s not like a pistol bullet is much of a threat to a full blooded witch,” I pouted.

  “The girls already told us what you’re capable of when you’re unarmed, no one wants to risk giving you a weapon right now. If you gain the trust of the others, we’ll consider it.”

  I bit my lip. “What if I decide to say for now, and see things aren’t working out?”

  “Then I’ll still escort you to the end of our territory, and return your equipment to you before you leave. Assuming you didn’t do anything to upset the coven before you leave,” Clara explained.

  I glanced back at Kaylee, who was grooming herself on my cot. “What do you think?”

  The grey cat paused, and looked up at me. “Meow.”

  “Yeah, right,” I mumbled before turning back towards Clara. “Is there anyone in the coven that is actually interested in actually meeting me, or giving me a chance?”

  “Mr and Mrs Hudson, who run the kitchen, and are Cheyenne’s parents and Mrs Clayton, who is Daytona’s grandmother and our resident alchemist,” Clara said. “They all want to talk to you at least once, whether or not you decide to stay.”

  I huffed. “More than I expected.”

  Kaylee hopped off the bed, ran over to the corner of the room and grabbed my hat before hopping up on the table. Spitting the hat out in my hands she looked up at my face. “Murrr.”

  “Yeah yeah,” I grumbled as I snatched the black hat and placed it on my head. “I guess we can stick around long enough to see what they want to say.”

  The cat looked up at me with a wry smile. “Mow.”

  “Shut up and jump on,” I whispered to the smug feline.

  As soon as Kaylee settled around my neck I stood up and moved towards the door. “Shall we go?” I asked Clara.

  The red haired woman nodded briefly before pushing the door open and letting me pass through first. Now that I’d made the trip once, I could easily make out the path back. It wasn’t exactly used a ton, but often enough to create a path.

  “So, what exactly was that shed used for before I arrived?” I asked Clara as we made our way back down the path.

  “Isolating sick patients from the rest of the coven,” the red haired woman said, without looking at me.

  I turned to stare at her. “You dumped me in the plague house?” I asked in disbelief.

  “We cleanse it properly after each patient,” Clara tsked, “and besides, you were a sick patient when you arrived.”

  “Not that kind of sick though,” I grumbled.

  Kaylee placed a paw against my cheek. “Mer!”

  “Yes yes, they did save my life, and I have no right to complain,” I begrudgingly agreed.

  Out of the corner of my eye I caught Clara grinning our way, which brought a question to mind.

  “So do you have a familiar?” I asked as we continued forward.

  Clara nodded slightly, “I do. Corrin, who’s a raven. If I’m not planning to cast magic she likes to fly free, and she only really returns in the evening, when it’s dinner time.”

  I glanced over at Kaylee, who was lying lazily around my neck. “A little bit of a glutton huh? I know how that is,” I grumbled.

  The cat reached back and smacked me on the side of the head. “Hit me all you want, you know it’s true.”

  Clara giggled, which caused me to glance towards her again. She’d been extremely tense, and a bit stand-offish when I saw her before, so seeing her more relaxed was a little off putting. Just as we were about to reach the edge of the forest Clara took a hard left and followed a much more well established path.

  I hesitated to follow her. “Isn’t the village that way?” I asked, gesturing towards the village.

  “It is, but I thought you wanted to talk to the Hudsons, and Claytons. If so, we need to make a detour,” Clara explained. I hesitated just a moment before following her.

  The path wound around the rough hills around the back of the Coven, slowly working higher and higher. I was in pretty good shape, but even I was starting to feel winded after a couple minutes. “Why are we meeting them so far out of town?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Annabelle, that is Mrs Clayton, likes to live closer to nature,” Clara explained.

  “Maybe she just doesn’t like visitors,” I grumbled as I climbed the last few rough steps and made my way onto a rocky plateau. As soon as I stepped onto the top, I stopped, just for a moment. All around us was a massive, immaculate herb garden. The gardens in town had a wide range of commonly used herbs, but this area had some extremely rare and esoteric species. While we walked through them, heading towards a sturdy two story wooden cabin with stone foundations, I had to stop a couple times. My herbal knowledge wasn’t all encompassing, but I knew a bit, and there were some species here I’d only read about. Herbs that were supposed to only exist in other countries, or climates. It was astonishing that anyone was able to keep them alive here, never mind getting them to thrive.

  Clara arrived at the door first, and politely knocked. It took a minute or so before I heard someone moving around inside. When the door was finally pulled open I had to take a step back, because the woman was the splitting image of Lady Dyer.

  She smiled at me sweetly, “Greetings dear, I’m Annabelle Clayton. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

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