The boy raises a small fist to knock at the wood. Faint rustling can be heard from inside, and he's almost certain he's picking up on the mewing of a young kitten. While wondering what color the kitten is, the door swings open. Before him stands a short woman, who is not large enough to be fat but not small enough to be skinny. Brown curls, speckled with white, frame her freckled face. The green and white linen dress she wears comes down just above her feet. Small wrinkles on her face show evidence of her aging; there are laugh lines about her mouth and crows feet on her eyes. She looks down at the boy and grins. Before she has the chance to say anything, however, he speaks.
"What color is your kitten?" He asks, his voice scratchy from apparent months of silence. The woman raises her eyebrows and glances behind her.
"Well," she says, "she's a calico, so she's white and black and orange." To the boy, her voice sounded like honey and the smell of roses. Kneeling in the doorway to meet his eyes, the woman says,
"Do you know where you are? What's your name?" The boy shoves his hands in his pockets in sudden timidity. Looking up to meet her eyes, he notices that they're bright orange, like the color of honey. He supposes that if her eyes and voice both seem like honey, she must be sweet.
"My name is Alexander," he manages, "and no, I don't know where I am. Who are you?"
Again, the woman grins, kindness pouring from her eyes.
"My name is Willowbie, the blue, of Eastfor. But you can call me Bluebie. I am a witch." The boy, Alexander, frowns at her.
"No, you're not," he says slowly, "Mrs. Alder says that witches aren't real. They're just stories that the older boys made up to scare me."
"Is that right? Has Mrs. Alder ever met a witch?" Alexander shakes his head. "That's why she says they're not real."
"Reasonably. And has she ever not met a witch?" At this, Alexander can only offer a look of confusion. Slowly, he shakes his head again.
"Then is it possible that maybe they are real, but she has simply never met one?" Alexander's look of confusion turns into one of skepticism.
"If you're a witch, do magic for me," he requests. Bluebie tilts her head and nods. Reaching around Alexander, she lightly touches a white flower bud, which immediately blooms. Alexander's mouth drops open and his head swivels back around to look at her smiling face.
"You are a witch! But wait, aren't you supposed to be evil?" He asks. Returning to stand up straight, Bluebie sighs and turns to walk back inside her cabin, gesturing for him to follow.
"Some of us are, yes, but most of us just want to live out our lives in peace. Just like normal people," she adds. Alexander steps inside her cabin and stares in awe. Despite being slightly cluttered, the building is much larger on the inside than it appears on the outside. He sits in an extremely comfortable chair designated to him by Bluebie while he listens. The calico kitten is seen trotting behind Bluebie as she wanders around the kitchen. As she moves back and forth, collecting various things that Alexander can't identify, he turns his attention to her interior decoration. The walls are covered in hanging plants and large windows. Many of the plants have very colorful flowers, but there are several that he recognizes as kitchen herbs. The windows are glass, but not perfect. The imperfections in the glass cause the light that comes in to refract into the colors of the rainbow across the floor. The kitten has taken to laying in the yellow light. Bluebie hums while she bustles around the kitchen. The rest of the room is filled with small couches and chairs, all very cushioned and piled with multiple blankets. Alexander can see at least two doors leading into other rooms from where he sits.
"What's your kitten's name?" Alexander asks suddenly. Bluebie looks up at him from whatever she's concocting on the counter and glances at the kitten, stretched out on the floor.
"Her name is Amora," she says, turning back to her project. A sweet smell begins to drift from the kitchen.
"How old is she?" he asks again. This time, without looking up, Bluebie says,
"Eight." She straightens up and starts to walk towards Alexander with two small teacups in her hands. Alexander, however, is staring at her with widened eyes.
"That kitten is not eight," he says, "she's far too little! If she was eight she'd be a fully grown cat by now." Taking a teacup from Bluebie, he turns to look at the cat again, wondering if he'd simply misjudged her age. But no, this cat was, in fact, a kitten, and he didn't believe that it was older than two months. He takes a sip from his tea as Bluebie sits down across from him. It tastes sweet, as if it were nothing more than rosewater and honey.
"Well, yes, normally, she'd be in about middle age. But I've been giving her aging suppressors since she was born, so she still ages, but very, very slowly," she states. Alexander's awe-struck look does not fade.
"You know how to slow down aging? So, how old are you?" he asks excitedly. Bluebie chuckles as he takes another sip of tea.
"Now, Alexander, it's rude to ask a lady her age," she says with a small smile, "but for your information, I'll be 203 in the summer."
"Wow," says Alexander, "I'm only 7." Bluebie's eyebrows raise for a moment, and she sets down her tea.
"When is your birthday?"
"Right before the winter solstice, why?" he asks.
"Then you are eight," replies Bluebie simply, "you've been sleeping for quite a while. Your parents must be worried sick, but I took care of you. You can return to them tomorrow." Alexander looks down into his tea.
"I don't have any parents. Mrs. Alder takes care of me. She says that when I was a baby, my parents thought I was too ugly, so they left me at the boys' home for her to deal with." Bluebie frowns.
"Well, that's not nice. I don't think you're ugly, and Mrs. Alder sounds quite rude. If you want, you can stay here with me," she says softly. Alexander's eyes had begun to feel heavy. Yawning, he nods and sets down his tea.
"I don't want to be a bother," he slurs. Bluebie smiles. The tea was finally kicking in.
"Don't worry baby, you won't be. I had just been thinking about how lonely I've been. Besides, it'll be nice to have a strong little boy to fetch wood for me…" she trails off, but Alexander is already asleep in her comfy armchair. Smiling softly, she places a blanket on him and returns to what she'd been doing before he arrived. She can tell that he'll be a good boy. Bluebie had always wanted a son.