Min's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the sight of a hand-sewn ceiling above her. Daylight filtered through the fabric of the tent, casting a soft glow. It resembled her mother's hut, but this tent had its own unique woven charm. Resting on a comfortable bed mat, she found herself covered with a luxuriously soft blanket.
But where was she?
Countless questions flooded Min's mind, but for now, her parched throat pleaded for water. Her voice emerged weakly as she uttered, "W...water."
"Ah, she awakens," a woman's voice responded.
"M-mama?"
"Hush now." The woman's face came into focus, not her mother's but an even older figure—her hair a mix of silver, white, and black, cropped just above her shoulders. She wore nothing except a kollik, a necklace adorned with beads and ornaments akin to the one her mother possessed, featuring animal teeth interspersed with polished wood and ivory beads.
"Here you go," the elderly woman cooed, sliding a hand beneath Min's head to lift it, while a small bowl of clear water was brought to her lips. Min felt as feeble as a newborn kitten, barely mustering the strength to breathe and swallow the offered liquid. "Careful now!" the old witch woman cautioned, withdrawing the bowl. "Too much, and you'll regurgitate it—silly girl."
"What... Where..." Min closed her eyes briefly, gathering the energy to reopen them and speak. "Where is...Sergen?"
"He's long gone by now."
"W-what?!" Min's stomach sank, and she propped herself up on one elbow, eyes wide with sudden fear. The abrupt movement left her upright but incredibly weak, teetering on the brink of toppling over.
The old witch regarded her for a moment before bursting into laughter, slapping her bare leg from the force of it. Her laughter was resounding, and she found herself so tickled that she had to wipe a tear from her eye. "Oh! Oh, child, mercy!" she exclaimed, chuckling a little while longer, drumming her hands on the rug beneath them until she dried her teary eyes. "No. No, dear, he's close by, I assure you. I merely sent him away to rest after he spent the entire night tending to you."
Min blinked, bewildered. "Sergen...stayed with me? All night?"
"He's quite protective of you," the old woman replied with a mischievous smile. Leaning in closer to Min, she positioned her nose just below her navel, taking a deep, prolonged sniff. "...considering that he laid with you recently, I'd deduce—" She took another strong whiff, nodding knowingly. "—that explains it."
Min inhaled slowly, gradually sitting up. A warm sensation enveloped her, especially in light of what the old woman alluded to. Her strength was gradually returning, but even the effort to sit up made her head spin. "Explains what?"
"Easy, child, eeeeeasy," the old witch affectionately advised, squeezing Min's shoulder. "You've endured quite the ordeal, my dear, battling against infection and potent magic as you did. It's nothing short of a miracle that you're alive at all."
Min rubbed her eyes, testing her hands. Her injured side still ached, but she focused her attention on her wounded limb. The swelling had subsided, revealing fine, dark lines that extended in swirling patterns from a round scar tissue on her shoulder, nearly the size of her palm.
Fearfully and cautiously, Min touched and probed the flesh. "I...I can't feel anything," she whispered, her voice filled with both horror and fascination.
"That is the curse's effect," the woman replied in a sad, subdued voice. "It numbs pain and suffering, rendering the bearer almost invincible. But it also corrupts the body and tarnishes the soul. Those who bear the curse will fight relentlessly until their heart bursts in their chest. They won't sense death's approach until it's too late. I've done my best to seal its power, but it cannot be easily banished from you."
"But...I thought that..." Min coughed, clearing her sore throat. "Sergen said he healed me."
"He said that?" The woman snorted. "Nonsense—'healed you' indeed. Closing a wound by licking it shut is a useful talent, I admit, but even the children of Kelash lack the skill to cure your affliction. Your injury was far more perilous than a mere flesh wound." She reached down, tenderly touching Min's cheek. "I'm just relieved he brought you here in time."
Min glanced at her. "You called it 'deep magic'? My mother never taught me about such things. Who are you, witch woman?"
"Ah, me." The woman smiled, a smile Min found beautiful. Her figure was full and lovely, with a firm belly and a thin strip of silver hair above her mound. Her smooth smoked-ivory skin stretched from her neck to her knees, with faint traces of darker veins on her calf muscles. "Such manners. Yes, deep magic—some call it kar, a force of chaos and madness. Such magic is extremely dangerous, my dear, very dangerous." The old woman shook her head. "But come, we'll discuss it later. For now, let's introduce ourselves! I am Ilay—Erkin's wife, mother of Selin and Sait, and witch woman of this tribe. I practice vuk magic, in that order." Ilay's smile exuded warmth and maternal love, instantly earning Min's fondness.
"Ilay, then." Min knelt respectfully, folding her hands in her lap as her mother had taught her to kneel before an elder witch. "I am Yasemin, a witch of aku, although not yet fully grown." Min wouldn't come into her own until she married or had children. Until then, as both a mother and a mentor, Erden would declare Min a full-fledged witch woman, and she would remain like a child—an apprentice.
"Truly?" Ilay's eyes widened slightly before she rolled them. "That man. May the goddess save me." Ilay rubbed her temples as if fighting off a sudden headache.
Min tilted her head, perplexed and unsure how to respond.
"Sergen," Ilay said. "Brave to a fault, a warrior like none seen in this tribe since I was a child sitting on my father's lap, but..." She snorted. "The man lies with you, drags you across nearly half of the Witch Wood, and never bothered to ask your name!"
"Oh." Min bit her lip. "I hadn't thought about that."
"Yes, I wonder why." Ilay's smile turned sly and knowing, causing Min to blush from one set of cheeks to the other. Ilay laughed again, leaned over, and affectionately kissed Min's cheek. "As my mother often said, it's the way of the young to fawn over each other—and then explore more intimate territories." She winked and handed Min the bowl of water to finish. "Welcome, Yasemin."
Min savored the coolness of the water as she drank, soothing her tongue and sore throat. "Min, please."
"Min it is, even better!" Ilay rose to her feet, looking down and offering her hand. "Can you stand, dear?" She was a pale beauty, with gentle curves and shining hair. Whoever Erkin was, he was a fortunate man.
Min nodded, taking Ilay's hand and standing on her own. Her legs trembled for a moment but held. "If I may, Ilay...could I trouble you for something to eat? I'm terribly hungry."
"'May she trouble me for something to eat,'" Ilay repeated, feigning offense. Then she smiled, softening any perceived offense, and gently pressed her hand against Min's cheek, just as her own mother had done. "You are one of us now, my dear, as long as you remain here. Of course, you can eat. Come this way, let's find something to satisfy your empty belly." Ilay took Min's hand, their fingers interlaced, and led her out of the tent and into the world beyond.