Escape from the Witch Hunters
Chapter 5

Ryia put the last of the flat cake batter in the pan, scraping the last bits out with a wooden spoon before setting on the counter.

Gillian turned in his sleep.

Ryia grinned evilly as she poked Gillian with her make-shift crutch. He batted it away with his hand and mumbled something incoherent.

“Gillian, wake up!” She jabbed him one last time before turning back to the fire and flipping the flat cakes.

“What is it?” he sat up groggily and sniffed the air.

“Flat cakes and bacon. Go wash up.” she shooed him outside and smiled to herself.

He mumbled something else, but went outside to the pump where he washed his hands and face.

He came back in looking less sleepy and looked at the food like a predator would stalk his prey.

Ryia laughed softly to herself as put the last of the flat cakes on the table. “I finished your flour, and your sugar is almost gone as well.”

Gillian raised an eyebrow. “I guess I’ll have to go to the village today.”

“I don’t suppose I can go.” Ryia looked down at her plate glumly.

“Nope.” Gillian stuffed an unhealthy amount of bacon in his mouth. “I don’t suppose you could.”

“Gillian!” she shook her head.

“I don’t suppose you need anything from the village?” he said with his mouth stuffed with food.

“I don’t think I do.” Ryia took a small bite of flat cake coated in maple syrup.

“Can you sew?” he asked after he had swallowed.

She gave him a puzzled look. “Somewhat. I guess.” she put a bite of bacon in her mouth.

“How good is somewhat?” he looked straight into her eyes with his dark blue ones.

“I can sew my own clothes and I can mend lots of things.” she shrugged.

Gillian nodded and went back to eating his food. “I’ll go as soon as I’m done eating here.”

“Alright.” she nodded and went back to eating her food.

Gillian held the plate up to his mouth as he shoved the remaining food into his trap. “Well that was good.” he leaned back against his chair and finished chewing the food. “I’ll get going then.” he backed his chair out.

Ryia nodded and stood up.

Gillian grabbed his hunting knife, slipping it into his boot, and he grabbed his bow and quiver full of arrows. “Thanks for breakfast.” he almost gave her a smile. “I haven’t had anything like that since…” his face clouded over for a second before he composed his features into a forced smiled, “I haven’t had it in a long time.”

Ryia smiled, choosing to ignore his minor slip. “Think of it as me saying thank you.”

Gillian went outside and into the barn where he kept his horse.

He reappeared with his horse. “So all we need is flour and sugar, right?”

“As far as I know.” she walked out into the doorway, holding her arms close to her body.

“I should be back before sundown.” he mounted his horse. “Don’t work too hard, and keep off that leg.”

“Alright.” she agreed.. “I won’t.”

“Hi-ya!” his horse took off.

Ryia turned around and went back inside.

Gillian looked at the bustling village. It had been a long time since he had been there.

He never did like being in the village. People pitied him ever since his parents had died. He had been thought of as “that poor boy with no parents”. And he hated every minute of it. As soon as he was old enough, he went out into the woods and built himself a little shack where he couldn’t be bothered by the villagers constant stares and hushed whispers.

Even now people still looked at him differently. He dismounted his horse once he got to the main store.

The bells jingled as Gillian opened the door and walked inside.

“Gillian! I haven’t seen you in these parts since last winter!” the jolly man behind the counter smiled good naturedly at him.

“Mr. Calloway.” Gillian tried to put on a genuine smile. “I came in for some flour, sugar, and some material.”

Mr. Calloway took Gillian in after both of his parents had died and although he was nice, Gillian grew tired of his constant chattering. Thus he took his leave as soon as he was grown and able.

“What you be needing material for, son?” Mr. Callaway peered curiously at Gillian. “You haven’t learned to sew have you?”

Gillian shook his head. “I found a girl in the woods a while back, she didn’t have a thing on her except for the clothes on her back. I figured I get her some material to work with.”

“A girl ya say?” Mr. Callaway looked at Gillian with more interest. “What’d she look like?”

Gillian looked warily at Mr. Callaway. “She’s got light brown hair, mismatched eyes, and maybe...so tall.” he held his hand up at his chest, indicating how tall she was. “Why?” he narrowed his eyes at Mr. Callaway.

Mr. Callaway quickly focused his attention on something else. “Oh nothing. No reason at all. Just curious. That’s it.”

Gillian wasn’t convinced, but didn’t push it. “Anyway, I’ll need a sack of flour, and a canister of sugar. Plus the material.”

Mr. Callaway nodded and started measuring the flour. As he filled Gillian’s order, Gillian looked at the material that lined the walls. He looked through the green and blues, the white and greys, the purple and pinks, then he came across a scarlet colored silk. Scarlet would go well with her paler complexion.

“How much is this?” Gillian looked at Mr. Callaway holding up the silk.

Mr. Callaway raised his eyebrows. “It’s one hundred sovereigns-” Gillian frowned, “-but that material has been there for months, so I’d give it to you for, hmm, let’s say, eighty sovereigns.”

Gillian frowned. He had enough for it. But just to spend eighty sovereigns on just some material? he stroked his chin. But you did burn her other dress. Her only dress. he rubbed his face. It was torn and bloody anyway. he looked at the material again. And she’ll need something to wear when she goes looking for her family.

“Fifty sovereigns?” he looked back at Mr. Callaway.

Mr. Callaway considered it for a moment. “Sixty and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Gillian smiled as he took the material down from the shelf. “I’ll also need a spool of thread, and a needle.”

Mr. Callaway nodded and went to get the items.

Gillian frowned. She won’t have any work clothes.

He sighed and went back to the materials and picked out a cream colored cotton fabric and set it on the counter.

Mr. Callaway returned with the thread and needle. “More fabric?”

“Work dress.” Gillian answered.

Mr. Callaway nodded and started cutting the fabric. “So, is she going to be staying with you much longer?”

Gillian shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably as soon as her leg is better she’ll be out.”

“Her leg is hurt?” he looked up from his cutting.

“Yep. Not too badly though.” Gillian answered. He hoped it wasn’t that bad.

“You should have a real doctor look at her leg.” Mr. Callaway commented mindlessly as he snipped the last of the material.

Gillian glared. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. I’d have to take a doctor out there, as I don’t have a wagon, but I don’t really want any doctor out there in my house.”

Mr. Callaway shrugged. “It’s up to you.” he paused before he looked up at Gillian with a shocked look. “Wait, you both live in under the same roof?”

“Yes we do, but we’re in separate rooms and I assure you that nothing has happened.” he snapped.

Mr. Callaway held his hands up defensively. “I never said you did. I know that you’re good lad, Gillian.”

Gillian rolled his eyes. He knew that just about everyone in the village thought he was a scary hermit who would slit your throat if you cross his path. It was a complete lie, but he didn’t bother denying it, as people would keep their distance, and he liked that.

“Here’s your goods. Flour, sugar, your material, thread, and needle.” Mr. Callaway listed off and he handed the bundle to Gillian. “It’ll be seventy-two sovereigns.”

Gillian counted through his small bag of sovereigns and handed Mr. Callaway the correct amount. “Thanks, Mr. Callaway.” he hurried out before Mr. Callaway could strike up another conversation.

“Anytime Gillian!” he called after him.

Gillian ignored him and started tying the bundle on top of his horse. “Do you think I spent too much on her?” he asked his horse.

The horse neighed in response, nodded his head up and down.

Gillian laughed as he finished strapping the bundle onto his horse. “Well let’s be off.”

He mounted his horse and as he was about to ride off, something caught his eye. It was a poster stating “Evelyn Moore Wanted: Light brown hair. One green eye, one blue eye. Medium height. About sixteen years old. Wanted for sorcery. Daughter of the witch, Ivy. Last seen in the village of Castile. Reward: Five thousand sovereigns.”

Gillian felt bile rising in his throat. It couldn’t be. And yet, she was most likely the only girl alive in this area who had mismatched eyes. And he had told Mr. Callaway -the blabber mouth- everything about her.

Gillian clenched his jaw and ripped the poster out of the wooden post, stuffing in his pocket.

He and Ryia, no Evelyn, would have a talk when he got home.

He turned his horse around and galloped back into the woods.

Ryia wiped her hands on her, well...Gillian’s, trousers. She had finally been able to do some washing. It had been a lot of work, pumping the water, heating it, putting into the tub, all the time battling the wooden stick that served as her right leg. But she had done it.

The clean laundry was hung up on the fence, as she wasn’t able to find a rope or string anywhere, after it had dried, she folded it and returned to to the drawer in the bedroom.

It was already late into the afternoon, the sun was about to set.

“I guess I should start on supper.” she hobbled down the steps as best she could without tripping, and was about to gather some firewood for the fire when she heard pounding hoofbeats.

“Gillian!” she smiled. He could help her get the firewood.

When he came into view, her smile faded. He was riding fast, and had a determined look on his face.

Once he got close enough, he quickly hopped down and she could see that he was frowning.

“What’s wrong?” Ryia looked anxiously at him.

Gillian’s face was stern, almost angry. “Would you like to explain this?” he pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket.

It was a wanted poster.

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