There was an intruder in her forest. She felt it cross the wards that border the entirety of her land. If her magic was made of strings, then one was strummed. She tilted her face towards the sun and mentally followed the vibrating string of magic. She expanded her magic and felt all the familiar life that makes its home on the ground, in the trees, deep in the lakes, and among the streams. She felt the hum of life from the grasses to the tallest tree. All was in the realm of normal. The witch was the only magical being in the forest. Her and Ursa. Until she felt it. The magical being that had crossed her wards on the far eastern border. She brushed her magic against the intruders' magic, soft and curious. Its magic responded violently, thrashing out in aggressive pulses of red.
The magic that touched hers was old and wild as a forest fire. It burned against her inquisitive wisps. She withdrew her magic and gave the being its peace. It would find her eventually. This was her forest, after all.
She kept an eye on the magical being throughout her day. She checked on it while blessing the new blooms in the field. It was present in the back of her mind while she was thanking the fruit-bearing trees in her orchard. It didn't move on the first day.
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The witch packed a bag on the second day and headed into the forest. Her feet were uncomfortable in her shoes. She usually wore the least amount possible in nature; touching helped facilitate her magic. She liked to feel the dry dirt crunching beneath her feet. She enjoyed the mud squished between her toes. She thanked the grasses and flowers as they brushed against her skin. She was hiking out far today, and walking that far barefoot wasn't smart. She left early in the morning. The mist was still hugging the ground, and the dew drops were still fresh on the leaves. She didn't bother locking her door; there were no humans this far out. She reached out with her magic and felt for the unexpected guest. It was on the move today. It was no longer on the border but was slowly making its way further into her territory.
She walked away from her house. She whispered to the new spring flowers. Her fingers traced the grooves in the bark of the old trees. She walked all through the morning. She stopped to wave at the birds. She dipped her toes in the river and let her magic spread through the water. She greeted the squirrels as they ran through her feet, chittering. She walked past the familiar two miles that extended around her house. It was where she spent most of her time. The state park was rather large. She couldn't attend to every acre every day, but she tried to visit as often as she could. Her house was miles from the park entrance.
The park rangers cover the main entrance. The main part of the park had a little visitor center and restrooms. There was a small campground and miles of hiking trails. The park maps showed the hikers where they could hike, but the rest of her forest was unmarked. The only trails she had were ones she or the animals made. She had a dirt road that she could follow for 10 miles to her own exit from the park. There were several signs and road gates marked private property that kept most people away from her. The only visitors she had were the ones invited, except for her new friend in the east.
Her park wasn't the most visited in the state, but it was quite large. It was the perfect fit for her. She wasn't a partially powerful witch, but she had an overabundance of magic that overflowed into the forest. Every touch, every word she spoke released some of her pent-up magic. It was the perfect relationship. Her forest flourished. Her forest was always one of the first options for reintroducing endangered animals and plants. Everything thrived here. Her magic blessed plants and animals alike, and nature charged her magic in return. It was a mutualistic symbiotic system where everyone benefited.
She reached a wide portion of the river she needed to cross. She took her backpack off and stretched out. She dug in her bag and pulled out a large, dry sack. She took off her shoes and clothes and put them inside her backpack. She wasn't worried about being exposed. Her best magic happened when she was bare in nature. She shoved her backpack inside the dry bag and secured it. It was still spring, and the water was shockingly brisk. Her skin pebbled up from the cold. She couldn't touch the ground at the deepest part of the river. She didn't fear the current. She thanked it as it pushed her to the other side of the bank. She was shivering and sought out a break in the trees where the sun broke through. She dug in her backpack for a towel and laid it out in the sun. She ate her lunch there. Naked and sun-baked.
She walked for several more hours. She talked to the familiar animals that popped out of their homes to say hello. She waved to the ones shyly watching her from their hidden spots in the trees. She walked until her legs ached, and then she turned around and walked home. The sun went down on her way back, but she wasn't afraid. There was nothing in the forest that would harm her. Even the forest's predators respected her. They came to her when injured or just for the company. Ursa was her most trusted companion, and she was at the top of the food chain. All the rest of the moon's children deferred to her.
She sent some magic to light her path. She checked on the visitor. It had been moving steadily into the forest. She was eager to meet them. She didn't recognize its type of magic.
The night was beautiful and alive around her. The sky was clear of clouds. The moon and stars were bright. She could hear nocturnal animals roaming. Moths flitted around her, casted light. She was walking barefoot through the grass. It was well past sunset when she made it home. She said goodnight to the forest before going inside. She dropped her pack by the door and shed her clothes on her way to her room. She left them where they fell. She would worry about the mess tomorrow. She fell face-first on her bed and slipped into sleep quickly. She dreamt of fiery magic, hot to the touch. It wrapped around her; its tendrils extended throughout her forest. It burned, but not in searing flesh; it burned into her bones, into the soils, and down to every root in the park. She dreamt of her intruder.
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The next morning, she remained in bed well past sunup. She lazily sent her extra magic out far, checking on miles and miles of land. The interloper was making good progress. It didn't seem to stop or rest much. It was moving much quicker than a human would. She remembered the heat from her dream. It should serve as a warning. This creature could be a danger to her and her forest. But she wasn't afraid; she was curious, which was more dangerous than any fire-laden dream. There was something new in her forest, something she'd never seen before. She was eager to greet them.
She tended to the chores around the house. She checked the plot of land she used for growing food. She walked barefoot through the rows and sent out magic to the seeds buried in the soil. She checked the berry bushes and the fruiting tree. They all yearned for spring to progress so they could bear fruit and be ripe. She harvested some honey from hives. She let the bees crawl and buzz on her as she transferred the honey into jars. She whispered sweet nothings to the bees, thanking them for the honey. Bees were very affectionate and ate up the praise. The goats were milked, and the chickens were gathered. It felt good to be productive.
She spent the rest of the day in her workroom. It was a sunny room, with large glass patio doors and many windows. She made products year-round, both magical and holistic. With spring starting, she needed to get products ready for the farmer's market. The farmers' market in town ran from late spring through the summer, and again for two weeks in fall and two weeks in winter. She made a wide variety of holistic products, including quite a few magical ointments and medicines. It really wasn't a secret that she was a witch. Most of the people who lived in the town knew about it. The townspeople have learned to respect her because they respect the land.
People don't settle this far from big cities if they don't respect the land around them. Many farmers hired her to bless their lands and crops. She blessed their livestock and tended to them when they were ailing. It was nice to be surrounded by good humans. She was lucky.
That night, when she lay in bed, she reached her magic out once again. Instead of observing, she softly brushed against the foreign magic. It didn't lash out this time but was tense and ready to pounce. She rubbed against it again before withdrawing. Soon, little spark, soon.
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It rained the next day. She checked on her rain barrels before walking off into the forest. She only did half of her usual circuit before she turned around to head back home. The rain was cold and coming down hard. Her skin was red from where it had been pelting her. She was covered in cold, wet mud. She could take a warm bath and curl up in front of the TV, but her interloper couldn't. She wasn't sure what type of magical being it was, but what if they were ill-suited for the rain? Were they cold and curled up in the mud? Were they waterlogged and miserable?
She removed her wet and muddy clothes and left them on the porch. There wasn't much she could do about her muddy feet, but she could clean up the mess later. She rinsed the mud off in the shower and drew herself a bath hot enough to be slightly uncomfortable. She added lavender soap that bubbled up. She soaked, relaxed, and thought about her guest. Did they have fur? Was it soaked? Did they find shelter? Are they used to this climate? Were they injured? Did they need her?
She reached out for their magic and found it curled tight as they steadily moved toward her. They had crossed more land than should have been possible. They were fast and determined. She checked on them often in her eagerness, and they were always moving. She was worried they would die from exhaustion before she got a chance to meet them. She only had a bit longer to wait.
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She was still curled under her nest of blankets when she unconsciously searched for the other's magic. Hers reached out, sleepy and soft, but jerked back when it reached the intruder's magic. It was fiery, hot to the touch; her magic burned where it had brushed against the flames. It was angry and so close.
The day was spent in a blissful, giddy haze. Nothing was accomplished; she would drift in the middle of a task, playing out every possible scenario for every possible creature her guest could be. She will meet her guest tomorrow.
She gave up the ruse of productivity around midday and went to find Ursa. She spent some time grooming and lying with her in her cave. Ursa already knew about the guest. As a familiar, Ursa had more awareness and access to magic than a regular animal would and knew the moment it crossed the wards. Of course, she would know that there was a new predator in the forest. Ursa would come with her to scope out the threat.
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She could hardly sleep. She drank cup after cup of chamomile tea, but it did nothing to calm her nerves. She was finally starting to get a little worried. Ursa had said predator, and if Ursa said something was a threat, it was definitely a threat. She didn't have any weapons; she never needed any. She had Ursa; with her, none of the other animals were ever a threat. While she had a lot of magic, it wasn't particularly strong or offensive. She could grow flowers and heal animals, but she didn't know if she could use them to attack. She thought back to years ago, before the forest. She remembers the fight with her family. It felt like a lifetime ago. They had attacked her with their strong magic and lashed out in violence. And she just took it. She had her brother to thank for being alive. So she knew she wouldn't be able to defend herself if the guest became violent.
She lay in bed and watched as the deep darkness of night lightened into the new morning. She reached out again, for what might be the last time. She was surprised they weren't moving and delighted to find them about four miles away. She dressed quickly and started packing her bag with plenty of food. She didn't know if the intruder had been eating well. She packed jerky as a treat for Ursa and some magical tonics and ointment in case they were injured.
Ursa was already waiting for her outside. She grounded herself to Ursa with a touch and broadcast where they needed to go. Ursa lowered herself down so she could climb on her back. She often rode Ursa. It was a great privilege, but Ursa could move faster through the forest than she could.
Riding Ursa was an experience. Feeling all that power underneath her was intense. She could feel the muscles in Ursa's back as she charged through the forest. She held on tight and lay low with her face pressed into Ursa's fur. The first time she did this, she sat up too high and got taken down by a branch.
Ursa grew increasingly restless as they got closer. To her, this creature was a dangerous, unknown element. As the apex predator in the forest, whatever this being was must be strong to make Ursa worried.
They had a mile left. Her familiar slowed down from a run to a brisk walk. Her body was wrought with tension. Hers was filled to the brim with eager curiosity, a curiosity that had gotten her in trouble many times. Growing up, her brother had to drag her out of many situations she got into out of curiosity. There were worse vices to have. Ursa continued to slow down as they got closer. When she could feel the magic without reaching out, she hopped off Ursa and walked. She felt the oppressive magic radiating around her. Whoever was here was projecting their magic out; it pressed in on her from all sides. This wasn't curious magic reaching out to its surroundings. This is a move of power. Ursa growled lowly next to her.
Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her palms were sweaty. This was it. She could feel them. She could see a break in the trees. That's where they'd be.