About Knights and Witches

Once upon a time in a distant land lived a knight, and he was brave and honoured, shiny armour so bright. Blue eyes like the summer sky, locks of gold in his hair, feathers and prizes. He had never lost - and so, he was fearless.

There was a time this knight faced a monster, a terrible, terrible dragon. And he was not afraid, he fought big smile on his face.

The dragon was mean, though. It broke the knight armour and scarred him, and he fell. Now the knight was dark, pain in his soul, scar on his heart, and he ran.

He ran far away to the mountains, he and his black horse, riding as fast as the wind. No one would ever see him fight again. Now, the knight was not angry or evil now, he was … something different. And there he lived for years, away from the world.

It was a cold autumn night, leaves on the wind and a blood moon on the sky, the Knight saw a dragon fly.
“There is my chance” the Knight thought as he put his armour back and got his horse dark as a moonless night. No dragon would come close again.

And he rode, to the other side of the mountains, heart beating stronger than a blacksmith’s hammer on his chest.
But no dragon was there, in the middle of the new side of the forest. Carefully, the Knight started walking across it, sword in hand, every sense ready in the dark.

“Help me” he heard, from beyond the veil of trees. And once again his honour and bravery got the best of him, a small frame in the dark, a red hood, red from blood.
“Where is the beast?” he asked, light on his feet, battle ready. But there was no beast, just the frame. And now he meets the Witch.

The Witch also lived alone in the woods, not really by choice. She was a witch, after all, not noble or bright. She was born like that, and so she learned how to be alone. Her eyes green and golden, bright as fire revealed she was older than her frame, wise. Her scars showed she also had a story to tell, and there were plenty.
The Knight couldn’t trust a witch, of course, they were tricksters. Still, he put her back on her feet, curious. And his curiosity kept him there, as the Witch smiled and thanked him, offering him her hand on a reflex.

She was not afraid of him, a stranger with a sword and twice her size, obviously he should be careful, this could only mean she could hurt him. Who else would trust people like that? But she didn’t.

She offered him food and shelter for the night, and treated his horse right.
And she was not what he expected for a witch, no curses and fright. Her cabin a small place full of flowers and warm, cinnamon in the air. Comfort, no harm.