Long Live the Witch
This was my February submission for the Writers' Crossing prompt. I didn't like that I just petered out my story last September. I knew how I wanted to finish it, but I didn't know what to do between where I left off and here.
" Long Live the Witch"
By Terry Echoes
The wind died down, as if it, too, was listening to Hannah's impassioned words. "This is an old woman who needs our help! Sometimes the biggest danger someone can face isn't horrific and sudden transmogrification of species, sometimes it's your own self! You guys need to give up your new forms."
Clay heaved a sigh, but even being turned into a wolf was such a fantastical event for him that he had misgivings about doing the right thing. "And who'll save us from ourselves? I'm prepared to live a wolf's life."
Zeke was even more reticent. "Yeah, I'm not so sure I wanna give up all this for her." He flexed his minotaur muscles and gave them a kiss.
Hannah put her hands on her hips. That was it. Hands were on hips now. Things were more serious than ever. "You guys."
The witch had stopped moving, too, almost looking deceased. It was easy to see she looked more frazzled, more pale than before. She had an almost brittle composition, her bones jutting visibly against her wrinkled skin.
Clay felt defeated. "Fine. I give up. But I already apologized for disturbing her. If you want me to do the right thing, then I have to abide by what's right."
Hannah curtsied to the witch. "Is that permissible?" she asked.
The witch make some kind of sound both raspy and guttural.
Clay had already burrowed into is discarded clothes as best he could. He writhed on the ground as if some convulsion had overtaken him, and in a flash, he was human again. He jumped up, dashed for the bushes, and, blushing furiously, began to dress himself properly. When he stepped out again, he was aghast to follow Hannah's line of sight.
She was staring at the witch, who was looking like she had some color to her cheeks. Her slouch was removed, and she was standing up straight.
"Ugh, fine!" Zeke said, not to be outdone by Clay. "I'm sorry." He bowed as low as his hulking frame would allow. In another flash, he, too, was restored to humanity, although his torn pants were a bit stretched out. He toppled over with a grunt. "Was the ground always this close?" he asked.
Now there was no denying the witch was looking younger. Her hair was now a dull blond, and her skin was much less wrinkled. She knew they were as much entranced with her change in appearance as her own. "It's the curses. Magic comes with a price, and maintaining so many grudges takes its toll. Best not to leave bad blood, or even as long-lived as I am, I won't live much longer."