Page 40 of I Will Always Find You
As the hours of searching stretched into the deepest and darkest corners of the Temnyi Lis forest, days slipped by like water through fingers.
After several days of searching and finding no trace of Dawyd, the witches returned to Damek’s village for supplies. They planned to continue their search, resting when necessary, but were aware that the farther they ventured into the woods, the less practical it would be to return to the village for rest and sustenance.
Before heading back to the forest, they packed two satchels of food to take with them and several small waterskins, which they could easily attach to their belts; the forest floor would serve as their bed.
And as they searched, immersing themselves in each other’s company, their bond deepened, drawing them ever closer with each shared moment. Their mutual desire and passion were restrained only by the seriousness of their mission. Although both of them soon longed to become intimate and explore each other’s bodies, Damek held himself back from any pleasure until his brother was found.
He would not entertain that kind of selfishness, regardless of his urges.
Regrettably, what began as a desperate pursuit with a hopeful outcome turned into weeks of relentless wandering with no sign of Dawyd.
Or the Cannibal Hag’s hut.
Weeks turned into months. It became an endless cycle of days spent searching through the shadowy underbrush and barren caves. Each hour was marked by the same pain of absence that Damek had felt since he discovered his brother was missing. The Romani witch eventually resigned himself to the haunting truth: they would never find Dawyd.
All the food and drink brought with them from Damek’s cottage had long since vanished. They were now living entirely off the forest’s bounty, foraging for plants and berries and hunting small game, cooking over a small fire at night, and refilling their waterskins whenever they crossed a cool stream.
The forest had come to feel like an endless labyrinth of despair and loss. Though it felt like a betrayal to Damek, the Romani witch had come to accept that if Baba Yaga took the boy, she would not allow either of them to be found.
Even their magic had proven ineffective; Baba Yaga had concealed her presence too well for any tracking spells to succeed. Both witches had attempted to locate Dawyd using mystic divination with no success. Thesight beyond sightof both Damek and the Romani witch was blocked by a darkness they could not penetrate.
Frustrated by the failure of his magic, the Romani witch finally asked Damek if he could shapeshift as the lore of Zagovory proclaimed. Could he become an animal with heightened senses, a creature natural to the land and independent of magic? This would be a way to circumvent mystical barriers.
With a deep groan, Damek clarified that some myths about his people’s powers were just that: myths. They did not possess such fantastical abilities. Their magic was too subtle for such grandiose feats.
The Hutsul then asked the Romani witch why he did not have a spell for transformation in his arsenal of magic.
The Romani witch reluctantly confessed that he did possess such a spell, one of ancient Greek origin. It would transform a human into a beast, but it required more than just ingredients like belladonna, henbane, and mandrake. It was the magic of Circe, daughter of the sun god Helios and the nymph Perse, who resided on the island of Aeaea. The spell required a blood sacrifice that he was unwilling to make, even for Damek.
Tears filled the Romani witch’s eyes as he apologized, explaining that he never wanted to disappoint him. However, this spell was simply not a possibility. Enacting it would claim a part of his humanity, perhaps even a piece of his eternal soul.
With a deep, thoughtful nod, Damek assured his companion that he understood and would never mention it again.
Of course, he understands and does not judge or condemn me for my refusal. Damek possesses the gentle soul of Aeneas, a man of limitless compassion and a reluctance to harm even theslightest creature. A man, as a boy, who once risked his young life to attempt to save the offspring of the Erymanthian Boar, a beast that would have torn us apart and devoured us without hesitation.
“I think it is time we returned to the village,” Damek sighed, all hope for finding his brother gone.
“But, we could try again on the forest’s southern edge, closer to the northern shores of the Black Sea.”
“No, my love, my friend,” Damek said as he approached the Romani witch and embraced him. “Dawyd is lost to me. I see that now. I—wehave done all we can to find him. Though my heart is broken, I must accept this. I failed him. I am nothing, useless.”
The brawny red-haired man bent his head down, burying it into the Romani witch’s shoulder and sobbed. Guttural moans of despair emanating from deep within him escaped his mouth.
Hearing his beloved cry and knowing he felt such anguish, along with an unwarranted sense of internal contempt for himself, pierced the Romani witch’s heart like a dagger.
Taking Damek firmly by the arms, the Romani witch pulled him off his shoulder and held the man in front of him. Looking directly into Damek’s tear-streaked, sorrow-filled face, he said, “You have failed no one. You would have pulled the moon down from the night sky to find your brother. This is the Wheel of Destiny at work. Fate can be cruel; we both know this. We did our best, and it was not good enough. But we tried! By Hecate, how we tried! And that counts for something.”
The Romani witch drew Damek back in tightly, holding him close to his heart, sensing his beloved’s turmoil and offering him comfort in his embrace.
It had not escaped his notice that Damek had called him “my love” moments ago with a genuine ardour despite the melancholy oppressing him. The words echoed in the Romaniwitch’s mind; they were finally united in all ways. Well, almost entirely; while their hearts and souls had intertwined, there remained one final barrier.
They had yet to experience sexual intimacy.
However, the Romani witch felt this was not the right time for such actions; this moment called for tenderness and sharing his strength of will with a despondent man.
Damek, however, saw things differently. Leaning close, he whispered tantalizingly into the Romani witch’s ear, “Make love to me.”
The Romani witch was taken aback. “What? Here?! Damek, you are distraught, and I wish to comfort you, but—”
