The last thing Hazel expected to receive for her birthday was a job.

She hadn’t quite been sure what to expect on her birthday at all. She hadn’t been living with her aunt for all that long, but she expected the day would go similarly to how it had when she had lived with her grandmother: a nice dinner and a gift before bed.

What she hadn’t expected was to wake up to find her aunt baking and filling a basket with cookies, fine wine, and other such goodies.

“Are we going on a picnic?” she asked. That would have been a nice birthday present.

Her aunt gave her a blank stare for a moment. “Oh no, dear. These are for the witch.”

“The witch? Why are you sending her that?”

“Oh, I’m not, sweetheart. You’re going to take them to her.”

Hazel blinked in surprise. “Why me?”

“Because you’re going to go there and get a job as her apprentice. It’s about time you started learning a trade.”

And that was how Hazel ended up in the woods on a fine autumn day, watching the leaves fall as she made her way along the dirt trail. She walked slowly, at an even pace. She wasn’t in any hurry to get to the witch’s house. In fact, there was a large part of her that hoped she would never find it and that she could go home.

She wasn’t sure what her aunt was thinking. She had never met the witch before, but she knew people that had, and they all agreed that she definitely knew magic. She wasn’t any kind of fraud, she was real. But there was nothing about Hazel that seemed magical. Why be an apprentice if she couldn’t do magic? It seemed like quite a stretch for her aunt to just assume that the witch would want her.

The wind whistled past, and Hazel pulled her little cloak around her thin shoulders. Her grandmother had often described her a “wisp of a girl” to all of her old lady friends, and now Hazel found herself believing it. The breeze made her feel as though she were a dandelion seed, or something else that might float away gently on the wind. Maybe someday, when the wind was just right, she would end up floating away. Away from her aunt, away from the horrid witch, and back to her own little town. It was a romantic thought, and she quite liked it.

It had been only a few months since her grandmother had passed away. She hadn’t known her parents, so her grandmother was all that she knew, and her aunt had been completely unknown until just before her grandmother’s passing. Grandmother had insisted that Hazel to go stay with her aunt after she died, and Hazel did as she had wished. There wasn’t anything wrong with her aunt per se, but Hazel still felt rather uncomfortable around her. And now the woman was making her get a job.

She found herself muttering under her breath about the injustice of it all as she crawled over a fallen tree in the way, taking care not to ruin the basket. When she straightened up, readjusting her load, she found herself looking around.

The forest was different here. The trees were bare and shrouded in mist. It looked as though winter had come early to this part of the woods. Hazel swallowed hard and continued on her way, a little more slowly. She could feel the hair on the back of her neck prickling. Were those sounds that she heard, or just her imagination? She desperately hoped it was the latter, and hurried on her way. She desperately hoped that the witch’s house was here somewhere. She didn’t care at this point, she just wanted to get out of the woods.

The building came out of the mist like an otter from the water, smoothly peering out before coming into full view. Hazel found herself pausing in her steps, staring. The building was very small, made of stone, with a rickety looking roof and porch. A crooked chimney bellowed out clouds of pale smoke into the mist. Underneath the edges of the roof hung various plants and flowers. It looked as though they were there to dry, but with all of the mist, Hazel was surprised that they were doing anything at all.

The dirt path led right to the front door. Hazel slowly and carefully made her way up the old wooden steps, hoping desperately that they wouldn’t break under her weight, and stood in front of the door. The black paint was peeling, revealing the reddish color that it used to be underneath. The whole house looked almost sad from the outside, all crooked and sagging. There was no yard, really, just old dead bushes and grass. She found herself all the more hesitant to actually knock on the door. But at that moment, the thought of going back out into the woods to get home scared her more than meeting with the witch. So she took a deep breath, and quickly knocked three times.

There was a long silence, then a pitter-patter, then the clunking of shoes on the floor. Hazel found herself holding her breath, her knuckles going white as she gripped the basket with both hands. Then, without any warning, the door flung open.
She stared at the figure in the doorway: tall, very tall, and incredibly lanky, with inky hair that could have just as easily been raven’s feathers, a grey sleeveless shirt, tight trousers, and very nice brown shoes. This was no witch. This was a man.
He stepped out into the light, having to curve over and peer down at Hazel. He had black eyes, like nothing she had ever seen before. His right ear was pierced, and a long hawk feather hung from the earring. He gave her an odd look, and though trying to piece together something rather puzzling. “Can I…help you?”

Hazel was so surprised that she could only raise her hands, holding out the basket. The man looked down, clearly surprised himself, and looked back up at Hazel. “Is this for me?”

Hazel nodded very quickly.

The man reached out and took the basket. He had long, delicate fingers, with lots and lots of rings. He nodded to Hazel and then said, “Please, come in.”

She did as the man asked, and he shut the door behind them. It was dark inside, with only candlelight and a large window to light the room. But while the house had looked sad and run down on the outside, it was quite opposite on the inside. There were tables and shelves against every wall, covered in books and artifacts. Various flowers hung upside down from the ceiling in large bundles, like colorful clouds. Every shelf had a variety of things on it, including books, vases, skulls of various shapes and sizes, pumpkins, vials, candles, and bags of who knew what else. It was a mishmash of things, but everything seemed to be organized in some way. And in the middle of the room was a rocking chair, a trunk, and a gorgeous woven rug. Under one shelf hung a variety of small animals, strung up by their necks. She wondered if they were for food, or spells.

The man had set the basket down on one of the tables and pulled out the cookies, wine, and other things Hazel’s aunt had packed. He made pleasant noises as he pulled out each item, so Hazel could only hope he was satisfied. Coming this far for nothing would be awfully discouraging.

“These are nice,” he said after a moment. “Did you bake these yourself?”

Hazel shook her head quickly. “No, sir, it was my aunt.”

“Well tell her thank you for me.”

Hazel nodded. “I will, thank you, sir.”

The man repacked the basket and left it on the table, making his way back to the middle of the room and sitting down in the rocking chair. He motioned to the trunk. “Please, have a seat.”

Hazel did as she was asked, and tried to make herself comfortable on the trunk. She could finally get a good look at the man, now that he sat by the window. The pale light made the room look like something out of a watercolor painting. The man couldn’t have been more than five years older than her, not nearly old enough to be living alone out in the woods in the witch’s house. But he seemed to know his way around. Maybe he was taking care of the house for a little while. But his face seemed pleasant enough. Perhaps he could still help her.

“So,” the man said, “what can I get for you today? A spell for colds? Poultice of some kind?”

Hazel quickly shook her head. “Oh no, nothing like that. I actually came here to see the witch. My aunt sent me to ask her to take me on as an apprentice.”

The man let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, his whole torso curling over as though he were suddenly exhausted. “Oh goodness gracious, really?”

Hazel nodded, hoping that she hadn’t said something wrong. “Yes, but I don’t know why. The witch is good at magic. I can’t do magic at all.”

“Really now,” the man said, looking a little less annoyed. He gave another sigh, this one louder. “Well, you should probably know…I’m the witch.”

Hazel paused for a moment, trying to understand. “Wait, what?”

“I’m the witch,” the man said. His face was hard to read, but it sounded like this wasn’t the first time he had had to tell someone about this little misunderstanding. “Well, the witch’s son, actually. My name is Thorne, my mother was the last witch. She left to go to another town a few months ago, so she left me here to be the new witch, or warlock, or whatever we’re called at this point.”

“Oh,” Hazel said, still trying to comprehend the man’s words. “So…you’re the one that I’m supposed to be the apprentice of?”

He shot her a glance, as though scrutinizing her and her position. “Well, yes. I don’t have many people out here, actually. Winter is when I have the most customers, because everyone and their mother seems to get sick then. So no one really knows that I’m the new witch in town.” He paused for a moment. “But…I guess I could use an apprentice, seeing as it’ll be winter soon. After all, it can get lonely out here with just me and Cow.”

“You have a cow?”

“No, that’s my cat…his name is Cow…it’s a really long story.” Thorne said, pinching the bridge of his nose once again, this time looking more embarrassed. “Anyways, sure, why not. You can come in every morning, and I’ll pay you in…how do you want to be payed? Money? Spells? Food?” Before Hazel could answer, Thorne suddenly jumped up. “Oh, wait, I should probably make sure you know what you’re doing! Hold on.”
He rushed through a small wooden door to another room and returned with a quill and a piece of parchment paper. He wet the quill on his tongue, and began scribbling down notes, not even having to use any ink. Hazel could only assume it was magic.

Thorne looked up after a few moments. “Okay, first question: have you ever followed a spellbook before?”

“No,” Hazel said. “I’m not magical, I thought I said that.”

Thorne waved her comment away. “Doesn’t matter. There’s tons of stuff I can have you do without you needing magic. Can you follow a recipe?”

“Sure.”

“Okay…have you ever summoned a demon from an alternate dimension?”

“You can do that?!”

Thorne looked up a little sheepishly. “Yeah…never do that. I’ll probably fire you if you do. Okay, are you squeamish about dead animals?”

“Not…really…”

“Well, if you are, you’ll have to get over it,” Thorne said, making another note. “We use a lot of blood and feathers and fur in here. So you’ll have to deal with it. What about herbs? No anything about plants?”

“A little, the basics.”

“Mmmm, good,” Thorne said with a hum.

The questions went on for a good long while, until the pale light from the window had started to darken. Finally, Thorne rolled up the parchment and stuck the quill behind one ear. “Alright then, sounds like you’ll be a great apprentice! Why don’t you come back tomorrow morning and we can get started on your training? We’ll need to move fast. Customers will start coming in less than a month.”

Hazel nodded, bowing briefly. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow!”

“You too!”

Thorne opened the front door and Hazel skipped out. Thorne stood at the doorway for a moment as Hazel waved to him, then went back into the house and shut the door behind him, leaving Hazel once again alone in the misty forest. She slowly began the long trek back to her aunt’s house, trying to decide whether or not to tell her aunt about what had just happened. But she thought it would be much more entertaining if she didn’t. She couldn’t wait for her aunt to come and visit her at work and instead of finding her working for an elderly witch, find her instead with the handsome young warlock instead. 

Has her aunt planned this? Had she known that there was no more witch, or was she just as ignorant as Hazel had been? Even if she hadn’t, there was no going back now. She had gotten a job, just like her aunt had asked.