"Witch?"


    I''m not sure which of us uttered that word, but it hangs in the air irregardless of its maybe masters'' wants. What weapons we have shine free in the summer sun, their naked skin bared for all to see. A spear and a pair of saxes, a greater armory there has never been.


    "Where are we?" Eric hisses out a whisper as he slides to my left, taking a defensive position at my rear. Likewise, Bear circles around my right so as to guard all our backs. "And how did we get here?"


    Eric''s not expecting an answer to either of those questions, that much I know for certain. However... A certain wriggling thought snakes its way from the depths of my memories. While boys learn the art of violence and how to build and work a farm, girls learn the subtle arts of how to keep a farm in good standing with the world of spirits, amongst other things. Though I''ve long abandoned the womanly path, I still recall the lessons.


    "This is the spirit world, it''s always the opposite of our world," I whisper back an answer, the truth as thick on my lips as the scent of danger on the air, "and... And I think the Hading pulled us here."


    "Spirits can do that?" Eric hisses his surprise, brows lifting high.


    "Only the most powerful," I rapidly reach the limits of my spirit-lore as I''m met with endless memories of staring out the smoke-holes, of hours spent daydreaming instead of learning.


    "The Hading is an Askafroa," luckily, Bear seems to know a thing or two about spirits. Which I guess makes some sense; his father is a Berserk, after all, "the guardian-wives of certain ash trees."


    "Askafroa are some of the most dangerous spirits, yeah," Bear''s words jostle my memory some, knocking free a few more scraps of lore, "very quick to kill anything they deem as threats to their husbands."


    "That''s all well and good," Eric hisses, his voice collecting annoyance as it leaves his lips, "but how do we leave?"


    "I..." I sigh, shoulders falling ever-so-slightly, "I don''t know."


    "We''re being watched," Bear''s words are calm, yes, but still they bring a shiver dancing across my spine. He lifts a hand and we follow his pointing finger to meet the gaze of a large, black-feathered bird—a raven.


    This raven is no ordinary bird, that much is readily known. It stands as tall as a child and observes with a cunning beyond some adults. The edges of its body has a sort of hazy, mist-like appearance that seems to double back over itself, like it''s both here and not-here at the same time.


    The raven cocks its head at an angle, piercing gaze locked to ours. No, not ours, mine. It''s looking straight at me, seemingly ignoring the presence of Bear and Eric both.


    It shifts, lowering its body while fluffing out its wings, like it''s preparing to make a dive. We tense, lifting shields and weapons, only for a storm of sound to erupt from the forest around us.


    A bear growls, an owl hoots, and a seal barks; all a warning, but not one aimed at us, no. This warning is meant for raven ears only.


    The raven pauses, waits for a trio of heartbeats, and disappears in a flash of feathers. With the flight of the raven, so too do the animal sounds depart, leaving us all in silence''s sudden embrace.


    "What," Eric asks after swallowing, "what was that?"


    "I, I don''t know," I begin while taking a breath, "but I have a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with that witch."


    Eric grumbles, "Great, witches and spirits."


    "We can''t stay here," Bear says and I''m inclined to agree.


    "Seconded," I nod and share a brief smile with Bear.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Eric rubs at his nose, "And where would we go?"


    That''s a good question, but it''s one I have an answer for, "The Hading pulled us into the spirit world, right? So, she can get us out of it too."


    "That''s a terrible idea, it''s the longest of long shots and filled to the brim with danger," Eric sighs and lets his head fall, "but we''ve not got any other option, do we?"


    "We do not," Bear says with a confirming nod.


    Eric clenches his jaw and nods. He takes a deep breath and musters up his ordstirr, crimson light pouring out from his thread-wrapped hands as he claps them together,  "I know an old sailors'' trick for finding direction by reading the winds," he says by way of an explanation as leaves rustle and fallen twigs ride high on freshly swirling winds, "even if we don''t know the exact way, we''ll know what direction we''re traveling in."


    "North is deeper into the Hading, so," I tense as realization strikes, "Wait, no, it''s south!"


    Eric blinks, "South?"


    "Spirit world, everything''s reversed."


    Eric grunts, a frown on his face, "That''s annoying." His frown deepens as he pauses, "Wait, does that mean it''s only the directions that are reversed or is it everything about it that''s reversed? Like, instead of a big blob of thick forests surrounded by farms and ringed by a valley, it''s a ring of thick forests surrounding a bunch of farms and a valley at the center? Or are the forests thin because they''re reversed? Is it a mountain instead of a valley? Untamed wilderness instead of farms? Or is it both?"


    I blink, "I... I don''t know."


    "I suppose we will soon find out," Bear remarks as he shrugs, the cow rising and falling with his shoulders.


    "I suppose so..." Eric and I say at the same time. We share a brief glance before shrugging and setting out.


    <hr>


    "Not everything is reversed, looks like," Eric''s idle comments are like hammers in my ears as we walk through the woods, "the trees aren''t upside down, after all. Or maybe they are? What happens if you were to plant a tree upside down? Would the roots grow leaves?"


    I stifle a groan as best I can, but it''s a near thing. When Eric is faced with sickly, mounting dread—the kind of fear that grows slowly, that comes with a dawning realization that you''re in the shit now—he starts to ramble. He can''t help himself, whatever errant thought climbs into his mind will soon ride his mouth-winds, so I try not to hold it against him.


    Still, having Eric in my ear certainly doesn''t help with how slow we progress through the spirit world''s Hading.


    "You should ask your father if we get back," Bear says while the cow on his shoulder stays limp, passed out with fear. "He is good with plants."


    I shudder, memories of a dozen different plant-based tricks flashing through my mind, "You don''t know the half of it."


    Eric catches my shudder with a slight chuckle, "Does Dad do the trick with you where he ties your shoelaces to the grass?"


    I don''t bother hiding my groan, "Or the one where he throws seeds at you and they take root in your skin?"


    Eric retches, a full-body cringe crashing through his body, "Oh, Gods, I''d almost forgotten about that! Why''d you have to go and remind me?"


    Smiling, I go to answer only to stop as I catch Bear''s look. His eyes are soft, the corners ever-so-slightly moist, and, if I''m not mistaken, there are even a few hints of... of jealousy in his gaze?


    A blink and it''s gone, replaced with the calm control he takes such pride in.


    I bear a frown only for a scant few heartbeats before turning my attention back on Eric, where I''m nearly knocked off my feet at his face.


    With ash-like skin, Eric breathes at a quick pace as he suddenly stops mid-stride. Fear keeps his spine straight, his entire body corpse-stiff with dread terror. His eyes don''t move, their steel hue dull and lifeless as his lips tremble.


    "I know this place," he whispers as the wind picks up, sending fallen leaves swirling around us. A formless, shadow-shape moves at the edges of our vision, but nothing reveals itself no matter how fast we turn our heads, "t-this is where it happened."


    What moisture there was disappears in an instant as the air soon tastes of salt. My lips crack, dry as a bone while my tongue puffs up and a sickening thirst claws at my throat. Blood pools from chapped lips, the wounds stinging as salt rubs its way in. The hoot of an owl, the growl of a bear, and the bark of a seal ring out as warning sounds, yet even our guardian-spirits sound distant, a hollow sort of bravery.


    "W-whe," I cough, throat drier than any desert while my breath struggles to break free, "Where what happened?"


    "Where he met me."


    Ancient, yellowed eyes gleam from the darkness. Death stalks us this day.