“And how does she feel about you?” One of her brows arched in question.
“Despite everything you might hear, not everyone hates me.”
“I didn't mean that,” she blurted.
“Don't bother explaining yourself, it doesn't matter.”
Her eyes raised to the sky, thinking about his words.
“Hmm,” came out of her mouth. “So youdohave friends.”
“I wouldn't call them this way and they wouldn't call me like this either. I call them partners with whom I have mutually beneficial relationships.”
Violette squinted. She didn't know why but the word 'partners' discouraged her for a while. After all, she was not the only witch he'd known, and it made her feel something fluttering in her stomach. Why would she be bothered by it? Whydid she even think he doesn't know any witches except her? And why did she care if he had a nickname for her too?Nonsense.It had no reason to make her feel whatever was going on with her.
Chapter 33
THE LITTLE WITCHY HOUSE
The air in the South was clearly warmer and most of the trees there still remained leafy and green as if shrouded in magic. No sign of the winter or the late fall, no snow or frost on the grass and windows. The weather felt like early spring – a light soft breeze. The forest attracted with its vividness and denseness, such a contrast compared to the Forest of Somber Eyes with its eerie stifling air and ominous fog. Instead of silence it was filled with rustling leaves, natural sounds of animals and crickets’ songs. It looked so welcoming and cozy, that even the North Forest felt completely hostile in comparison. Layers of different scents intermingled in the air, creating a fresh earthy smell. Slightly damp ground had been covered in green grass, moss and twigs. Warm light from a little town near was slipping through the tree trunks as Violette and Dante were making their way out of the woods.
Their steps led them to a small house covered in moss. Violette abruptly stopped looking at the house, more struck than curious.
“What? Never saw a witch's house?” Dante tossed her a look over the shoulder.
He was indeed right, she'd never seen such a house before, only read about it in the tales.A small house in the corner of a small town.
The roof was covered with green moss, a swirl of pink smoke emitting in the air from the chimney. A stone path overgrown with grass wasleading to the house, white anemone hung above the wooden door.
There was a little garden decorated with pumpkins and blue fly agaric mushrooms with a well maintained pond nearby. A warm inviting light was pouring from the round window, beckoning the travelers to come closer.
Violette’s eyes slid over a dark brown sign dug into the ground with the name 'Blue Pot', following with a list of what it was selling.
The old door creaked, letting little silver bells with orange ribbons above announce their arrival.
Inside, the house was no less mysterious and truly magical; Smoke coming from the many bottles was tracing the air. A boiling whistle was heard somewhere from the second floor. Jars glowed in different colors – pink, green, blue, iridescent in the light. Various herbs hung from the ceiling on thin ropes, swaying from side to side as if enchanted with silent music.
A black cat was resting at the window, waving its tail. Something white and furry was snoring below, but it hardly resembled an animal, rather something from a magical forest.
Vibrant colors filled this place – it looked chaotic but at the same time unbelievably enchanting and cozy. The sight took Violette's breath away, leaving her completely speechless.
In the corner stood several brooms with crooked trunks, tied with silk ribbons. Next to them, several shabby dark robes. A large purple witch's hat hung on the hook – Violette wondered if it was part of thestore's design or if it was what a real witch's house looked like. Not like her, not wizardling but exactly a witch who had been living near a forest like in old fairytales, and brewing potions from herbs. Witches were not as common as wizards or sorcerers where she grew up. She had only met a few of them who frequented her shop, but they looked like any other wizardlings at first glance. She assumed it was part of their adaptation to the world they now had been living in, however before this moment she'd thought all the witches looked this way.
A little further in the room she observed a small counter with a huge open book in a thick binding upon its surface, next to it resided a bird stand. Two yellow eyes flashed from that place. The gray owl squinted at those who entered, but didn't make a sound, only traced a sight.
There was no one behind the counter, but the house didn't look like it was empty, quite the opposite.
Dante sailed further and tapped the cauldron several times with his palms, playing a spontaneous rhythm.
“One moment!” A woman's voice came from the distance, outside of the room.
Beyond the counter were several bookcases, but instead of books, some shelves were heaped with various dried plants and glass bottles of different shapes.
Dante’s fingers ran over the green ribbons and colorful stones hanging from the ceiling on hisway to a small table.
“Dante!” an astonished voice sounded from behind the counter as the vampire leaned on the table with his back.
Violette turned her head in the direction the sound came from. The light of the lamp brightened the woman's face. The warm colors sparkled in her expressive brown eyes. Her thick brows raised and an impish grin curled her lips.
