Page 41 of Untethering Dark

When Perchta gave her the choice to shed her humanity and take the hag’s path, Astrid didn’t even hesitate to accept. There was no one she looked up to more, and the promise of power, the magic of the winter solstice at her fingertips, was too great an opportunity to ignore.

“I procured the remaining potion ingredients. You should move up your plans to complete the transformation.” Perchta reached out to cup her hands, ice-cold to the touch. “If there’s a threat, you’ll need the power, strength, and constitution it’ll grant you. As for my mantle, we can begin discussing what that entails.”

Nervous excitement bubbled up in Astrid’s chest. “You really think I’m ready?”

Protecting children, eviscerating their wicked parents, taking up the Yuletide rites.

“I really do,” Perchta replied softly. “You’re already a capable and competent Hexe. The wisdom that comes with age, of living one century after the other, will come with time.” Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Astrid could have sworn she saw those wolfish, yellow eyes glisten.

Happy tears sprang to Astrid’s eyes, and with an avalanche of giddy emotion, she grasped Perchta in a suffocating, rocking hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Perchta squeezed her tight, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Of course, Tochter. And I’ll start brewing the potion as soon as I return home. You’ll need to take a dose every day. Oh, and you better scry that satyr of yours to make final ritual arrangements.”

Not even an insinuation that Gudariks should be the one, which, given the horny old woman’s earlier teasing about bodily fluids, was surprising, but such a relief. At the end of the day,her safety, her power, and her choice...that was what was most important.

“I will.”

Before the night was through, Demos was contacted, and new totems hung from the trees surrounding Astrid’s home. Silver bells tied to leather pouches containing sprinklings of snow were spelled so that not even a hard wind would disturb them. Only an approaching adversary would make them ring.

Chapter Fifteen

Seeking out the witch hadn’t been a conscious decision. The next evening during his nightly wanderings, his cloven feet had a mind of their own, bringing him to her front gate. The itch to find and decimate the elusive hikers from the nights before had never quite left his bones. A task left unnervingly unfinished. She’d be a much-needed distraction.

Astrid was in her garden, painted in the soft, cool light of the moon, huffing and puffing as she scratched at the hard, frozen earth. Her nose and cheeks were red, and her brow creased. Loose, frazzled bits of hair stuck out from the wool-knit cap covering her ears, some floating freely, others plastered to her face.

It was exhausting, frustrating work plowing winter ground—that much he could see from the way she toiled and strained. Plants trampled so badly they were beyond saving had been yanked out by the root and piled in a frosty wheelbarrow by the fence. Aside from that, only two rows had been turned, but it had likely been a whole day’s worth of hard labor for her.

What would take him a day using his claws would take her a week with the ineffectual metal tools in her hands. He couldn’t just stand by and let her struggle.

Stomping a bit to alert Astrid of his approach, so as not to scare her again, Gudariks left the dark space between the trees.

She looked up then, startled despite his best efforts, but it was quickly followed with a warm smile. “Guten Abend.”

He dipped his head to her, the shadows of his antlers casting dark lines across her face. “Would you like some help?”

Glancing between him and the garden, Astrid rubbed a gloved hand behind her neck, surprise sparkling in her eyes like droplets of frozen dew. “Oh, um...”

Gardens were personal things, painstakingly nurtured and loved, so he wouldn’t push if she didn’t want his help or his company.

“I’d love some help.” Her smile broadened. “You know how to turn soil?”

He nodded, crouching down. Although she’d have no idea about the things he got up to in his spare time, he was no stranger to the task, and this was something he was very good at.

Steering clear of the patches still nestling rooted vegetables—black salsify, potatoes, parsnips, onions, and beets, by the smell of them—Gudariks raked a hand across the ground in one long, careful swipe, claws biting through the stubborn earth and making a path for new life.

Astrid tossed her tools aside with an exasperated groan. “I should hate you for how easy you just made that look.”

He cleared another row. “I’ll dig and you follow with the seeds?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” She bent down, picking up a tin sectioned off into tiny compartments, an assortment of seeds rattling inside.

“What are we planting?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Lots of things. I like to eat well, and I’m greedy for variety. There’s winter squash, pumpkin will go over there. Also, cabbage, leeks, and herbs.”

“I’m not familiar with some of those. May I?”

She handed him the tin, and he sifted through the various seeds with the tip of his claw, taking care not to spear any.

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