Zubera flashed a light on the trespasser's face, and she was surprised to see it was Ebba. Zubera backed away and perched on the couch, panting for air. 'What are you doing here?' she wanted an explanation.
'Please make me a witch,' Ebba pleaded as she crawled on her limbs and mounted on the floor next to Zubera's feet.
Zubera stared in astonishment at her foolishness. 'Do you think it's a joke to follow someone to their house?', 'I'm sorry I scared you.' Ebba stated.
'How did you get here?'
Zubera was becoming annoyed at this point. She grabbed Ebba's skinny wrists and led her to the front door, 'Go back home.' she said in a low voice, grinding her teeth.
'You know people believe you're a witch,' Ebba said as she shrugged and released herself from Zubera's clutches.
'Yea, so?' Zubera glared angrily at Ebba.
'So, if I go missing, people will assume you sacrificed me in one of your rituals, and I was last seen with you; it won't go well for you,' Ebba said, pulling back her shoulder blades and boldly folding her arms.
'You little rodent, do you think you have the ability to manipulate me?' Zubera marveled. She yanked Ebba out of the door and shut it in her face.
Ebba stomped anxiously as her scheme failed, and she was forced to think of a way to remain behind. She strolled in loops before the front door, trying to devise a plan. She quickly understood that it was impossible to blackmail or threaten Zubera; she was too powerful for her childish tricks. She went to the kitchen window to look for Zubera, but she couldn't see her, so she went around the house and peered through the living room window. She smeared her face on the window, making herself look like dough.
She caught sight of Zubera attempting to burn logs in the hearth. Ebba tapped on the window pane to get her attention. Zubera disregarded her and proceeded to light the fire. Ebba pounded again but failed to get Zubera to break. She attempted to open the window pane by firmly pressing her fingertips against the narrow space between the window pane and the window column. She was successful; she opened it halfway and slipped half her body through it.
Zubera stood up and tossed her fireplace poker on the floor, staring at Ebba. She'd never come across a girl as tenacious as her, and she wasn't afraid of her.
'Listen up, little girl, if you don't get your ass out of my land right now, I'll make sure you disappear,' Zubera's death stared at Ebba almost to her extinction. Ebba had battled a fair number of battles in her 17-year life. If threatening and manipulating didn't work, she knew it was time to strike a deal that would benefit both of them.
'I've got an offer for you.' Ebba yelled, and Zubera lifted her flawlessly arched brows and looked at her.
'You assist me in becoming a witch, and I will assist you around the home and be your assistant.' Ebba proposed.
Zubera was not a witch, despite coming from a line of witches. Neither she nor her mother ever engaged in witchcraft. But she was intrigued to see what kind of assistance this little child half her age could offer.
'What assistance?' Zubera burst out laughing.
'Come on, you can't even light the logs, and this old home doesn't have power right now. It would be best if you had a fire to keep this place warm; I can prepare it, I can cook and clean in exchange for Witchcraft knowledge,' she says. Ebba attempted to interpret Zubera's expression.
Zubera looked around, recognizing that the home needed some work and needed to appear suitable before it could be sold.
'All right, get in,' Zubera said.
'Through the window, you say,' Ebba was perplexed.
'You're already halfway there; just force yourself in.'
Ebba squeezed through the window and landed on the solid hardwood floor. She leaped to her feet and began burning the wood in the fireplace. The home was soon filled with the warmth and light of a fire. She pulled the sheets off the furnishings and dusted them. Zubera kept a close eye on her, seeking to figure out why this little girl was so set on becoming a witch.
'How old do I appear?' Zubera asked in her voice weary.
'I don't know, but I've heard that witches don't age and can live up to 200-300 years and maintain their youthfulness by consuming children's blood.' Ebba responded.
'That's disgusting. I just turned 30 just a couple of days ago.' Zubera said, sticking her tongue out as if she was about to throw up.
'Can you recommend a real estate agency in town?' Zubera inquired. 'Yes, it's in the back neighborhood of my school,' she says.
'All right, take me there tomorrow, and I'll drop you off at school.' Zubera stated.
'When are you going to pick me up from school?' Ebba asked, drawn in. Zubera looked at her, unpleasantly surprised. 'Pick you up? 'I'm not your babysitter; I'm just allowing you to stay for the night,' she said sardonically.
'No worries, I can take a walk back.'
'Don't you have a home of your own?'
'I do, but it gets lonely sometimes, and as I like you very much, I can keep you company here.' Ebba smiled through her teeth.
'And do the housework,' she added hastily before Zubera could say anything and force her to leave.
Zubera and Ebba went upstairs to her grandmother's room, where Zubera removed the old linens and searched the cabinets for new ones. Ebba used the flashlight to examine the old photo frames. There was a photograph of two women and a young child taken in the creek behind the home.
'Is this little child you?' Ebba pointed the flashing light at the photograph and then at Zubera's face. 'That's me, my grandma, and my mother,' Zubera said coldly.
'Where are they?' Ebba questioned.
'My mother died a few years ago,'
'And what happened to your grandma, did she also die?' Ebba asked.
Zubera stopped and sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if she was deceased. Or is she still living? She hadn't had time to think about her since she reached Willowdale. Her grandmother handwrote the letter she got on her birthday, suggesting that she is still alive. What if she didn't write it? But who would do such a thing? Zubera's thoughts were flooded with a million queries all at once.
Zubera rummaged through the side table drawers for something that matched the writing on the birthday note. She found a diary, glanced through a few pages, and was satisfied that it was her grandmother's diary. She grabbed it and dashed downstairs. She put the diary on the coffee table, next to the Birthday note. She asked for the flashlight from Ebba in order to see it better. The same person appeared to have written the handwriting, which was identical. Ebba was confused by her behavior.
'Ebba, come here. Look at these two handwritings; do they appear to have been penned by the same person?' Zubera asked, sliding it to Ebba.
Ebba examined the handwriting on the letter and the diary they had taken from grandma's drawer. 'They do look the same to me.' Ebba verified Zubera's suspicions.
'What's the problem? Your grandmother wrote you a birthday note; why are you surprised?' Ebba wanted to know.
'She disappeared 19 years ago, and no one has seen her since. Rumors arose that she was hunted down and murdered by the town folk in Huntwick Forest. She wrote me birthday letters for the first five years after we left Willowdale, which I assumed were written on her behalf by my mother, and then the letters stopped until my 30th birthday. It can't definitely be my mother.' Zubera murmured.
'Who sent me the property papers?' If she is alive, where is she?'
Ebba and Zubera exchanged silent glances, each thinking their own thoughts.