Bitter-sweet memory

As Victor spun around he saw a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a black witch. Her skin was pale and cracked, like porcelain left in the cold for too long, and her eyes were nothing more than hollow pits of darkness.

She moved with an unnatural grace, gliding toward him as if her feet never touched the ground. "Lost, little one?" she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she took a graceful step toward him.

"No, I'm not lost," he replied, with a blank face. "Who are you?" He asked.

The witch's smile widened, revealing jagged teeth. "Just a wanderer, much like yourself," she replied coyly, circling him slowly. "But these woods can be dangerous for someone so... young and alone."

"I'm not afraid," he retorted, his eyes following her every movement. He could sense the darkness emanating from her, a sinister aura that set his instincts on edge.