The cottage

PREVIEW

Lucia hesitated. How could she even reach for the cat perched precariously on the end of the breaking branch? She glanced down, the ground seeming a long way away.

A shiver ran down her spine. A fall. A cold dread gripped her stomach. A fall from this height could mean months in bed, or worse."

But how on earth had the cat even gotten up there?

"Bring that cat down this instant, or you'll be dining on air tonight!" Grandma Teresa yelled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She dangled a plate of biscuits in the air, tempting the ginger cat.

Lucia sighed. This was going to be a long night.

"Here kitty-kitty-kitty, come to Grandma," Grandma Teresa cooed, her voice a gentle melody.

Lucia sat up, her brow furrowed in concentration. She edged closer to the cat, ready to make her move while it was distracted. As she reached out, the cat, startled, let out a screech and darted to the other end of the branch.

"Lucia!" Grandma Teresa shrieked.

THE COTTAGE

Lucia squinted, shielding her eyes from the sudden burst of light. She sat up, disoriented. Where was she? Her eyes widened as she realized she was in a carriage. The thorn tree's sting, the chill of wet boots, the melting snow clinging to her hair, the memory of last night's drool – it wasn't a dream. Her mother was gone, burned at the stake.

Leaning against the carriage, she wondered how she would survive. Just a child, Lady Catherine Caldewin. Her mother, Lady Catherine, raised her alone after Lord Ryle Caldewin, her father, died miserably in battle. Lucia was only three. She often found her mother weeping, lost in her diary.

Lucia could only run errands for neighbors. Though she offered to help, her mother always refused. Her mother had captivating blue eyes, flowing blonde hair, and an enchanting smile. Many accused her of charming married men. There was something unusual about her mother, but Lucia never suspected witchcraft. Yes, she was enchanting, beautiful, and always held secrets.

"Secrets are special little lies," her mother used to say.

Her mother's enchanting nature and secretive ways led the villagers to believe she was a witch who had killed her husband and pursued other men.

The village rule was clear: "Every Witch to the Stake."

All Lucia had was a bag containing their clothes. She frantically searched, finding some money and her clothes, but none of her mother's. Tears welled up. Did her mother intend for Lucia to escape alone? Why?

The carriage lurched, throwing Lucia against the side. "Are you awake, miss?" the coachman asked.

"Yes, sir," she stammered, her eyes drawn to the breathtaking scenery – a frozen waterfall, winter butterflies fluttering around, and playful bunnies.

"It's a two-day journey to Portivan, a bustling town," the coachman said, chuckling. "I imagine you're hungry, little girl."

Her stomach rumbled loudly. Flustered, she mumbled, "Yes, sir."

Look in the sack," he instructed.

She found a bag containing fruit and water. Devouring the grapes and apple, she felt her hunger subside.

Then, she noticed two envelopes tied together with a white cord. One was addressed to Teresa Caldewin, the other to her.

Lucia opened hers.

"Darling,

If you're reading this, I'm no longer with you.

I'm sorry I can't be there for you, but I hope you have a happy life.

Your grandmother lives in Portivan. I've arranged for Alfred to take you to her safely.

She will give you a better life, one I couldn't provide.

Your

Mother, Catherine"

The letter was short, but it was enough. Tears streamed down her face as she refolded it.

She also found her mother's diary.

Resting her head against the carriage, she drifted off to sleep.

"We're here!" the coachman yelled

Lucia shielded her eyes from the sunlight. They were in the heart of Portivan's bustling market – children playing, women laughing, vendors hawking their wares.

The carriage continued, passing beautiful houses and the grand clock tower. Fernin seemed a world away.

As they traveled further, Lucia sat mesmerized, taking in the sights.

The evening drew near.

"Are you tired, sir?" she asked. He had been driving tirelessly, only taking short naps.

"My pipe keeps me going," he said. "Stay inside, there are bugs in the air."

Lucia hesitated. "They killed my mother, calling her a witch. Do you think she was one?"

He looked at her. "She seemed human to me. Do you think she was?"

"No," she said, "but I know she was the best person in the world." He laughed at her childish response.

"That's good. Now, put your head back in the carriage," he murmured, puffing on his pipe.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked.

I'm paid to take you here, sunshine. And besides," he winked, "I couldn't say no to Catherine. She was a good friend."

Lucia smiled. "Thank you, sir."

"We're here!" the coachman announced as they stopped in front of a quaint blue cottage.

Lucia stepped out, her heart pounding. This was her destination.

The coachman joined her. "Do you know her?"

"No," she replied.

"You've never been here before?" he arched an eyebrow.

"I've never lived anywhere but Fernin."

"Look, I have to go, but..." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I have some advice for you, young lady. Don't be a witch like your mother. Portivan doesn't welcome them. Try to be normal." He smirked, noticing her angry squeeze of her bag.

He chuckled and patted her back.

Lucia turned towards the cottage, her eyes filling with a mix of relief and apprehension.

The cold in Portivan was milder than in Fernin.

She took a deep breath and walked towards the cottage. The light blue paint seemed to radiate warmth against the winter backdrop. Smoke curled from the chimney.

She reached the porch and knocked twice.

"Is anyone home?" she whispered.

After a long silence, she decided to enter.

The warmth inside was inviting. A pot simmered on the hearth.

"Hello, grandma?" she called, her boots creaking on the floor.

She noticed a portrait of a young man and an older woman, both with similar eye colors. Was that her father? Then, the woman must be…

A soft meow startled her. A cat appeared from nowhere, rubbing against her legs.

"Go away," she scolded, but it persisted.

The sudden click of a gun made her jump. A figure emerged from the shadows.

"Who's there?" an elderly woman asked, her rifle pointed.

Their eyes met. Lucia's heart raced as goosebumps ran over her.

The lady stepped closer.

...Lucia?!!..