"Oh-"Dill woke up from the pain of a burn on his arm. The long darkness disrupted her memory, and Dill didn't know how long she slept.
She felt around, the feel of wood still under her fingertips; her pressed ears could hear insects and birds chirping. She looked through the hole. A spider was pulling the tangled branches with its long, black legs, diligently repairing the damaged web. The commotion caused by the barrels had subsided, and the forest had returned to a lush silence.
"Turnip?" The big white goose didn't respond, and Dill felt self-conscious and scared.
Maybe Turnip could not bear it anymore and chose to leave her. Unlike herself, she could always throw herself into the arms of the goddess and the forest; she was the only one who could never endure the loneliness and could not find a place to belong.
The burning pain on her arm reminded Dill of this, and she subconsciously felt it along her sleeve.
Perun didn't know, Oya didn't know, and the Grand Witches didn't know; it was a secret known only to the master and apprentice.
Back then, the frightened puppy had bitten its young master hard before fleeing, and the canine bite mark was deeply branded on the girl's wrist, as if injecting the toxin of unrequited love and resentment deep into it. Even days later, the girl's wound was not getting better, and from time to time, blood oozed out and stained the cuffs of her sleeves.
Amber felt that it was an ominous scar, so she dipped the rose's thorns in a magic potion and pricked a bizarre spiny pattern along the scar's perimeter. The little dill was in pain but didn't dare to shrink; after all, if the other witches found out, they would probably cut off her arm and throw it into the bottom of the river to "purify" it.
The witch's spell sucked up the tears, blood, and magic potion, which were then deeply implanted in her skin, so the blood stopped and the wound disappeared, replaced by...
Dill snapped back from her memories. She subconsciously uncovered the cuff of her right hand and felt down along the slightly green veins. A tail of delicate rose tattoos blossomed on her pale skin, slightly bulging and extraordinarily solid when she felt them.
All she could remember now was Amber's face, but every time she blinked, everything became clearer. Even the scars have been completely replaced by tattoos, and there is no pain when touched, just the familiar twisting over and over again.
What had once been a mark of punishment was now a part of the deep-rooted muscle.
"Dill, you are special."
The blonde woman kissed the bright red rose, sending her blessings and precepts.
"The world out there is confusing, but if you find your way, you will surely complete your journey and come back to me in the end."
Dill touched the rose on her wrist, crushing the bumpy lines on it, just as beautiful flowers always have thorns. She loved Amber so much, and sometimes she was so afraid of her.
What would she think if she found out she was missing? Dill tried to recall Amber's angry face, but all she could think of was the rare moment of vulnerability she had shown that day and the heartwarming witch's fire, the last meal they had shared.
Dill pulled the golden yellow that held the potion from her neck, with only a small sip left, and quenched a small drop of amber essence in the darkened wooden bucket.
Please give me the courage in the darkness to break that old witch's curse, my lady, my goddess.
She took a sip.
Oya was right; with her fey appearance coupled with her rap sheet, countless people had urged Amber to banish Dill, both explicitly and implicitly. But Amber hadn't given up, and how could her indisputable student?
Dill stretched out, feeling the warm blood return to her limbs. She suddenly remembered something and made a face out of thin air, spitting out a small half-knot of her tongue. A small section of it glowed with fluorescent light, like a firefly probe, holding open a small corner of the darkness.
This time Dill got a good look; a lush green sprouted from the bottom of the barrel, the breeze whispered, and a small crack opened up right under her feet, but before, she had only been focused on the sealed top and hadn't noticed the hint of the wind.
Dill took a deep breath, trying to savor the taste of courage back from the party's witch's fire, but the luminescence of her tongue dimmed a few moments at a time, and a small flame wasn't enough to burn the cage made of wood.
The tattoo on her arm burned even hotter, whether it was anger at her or encouragement. Dill didn't have time to think too much about it, but either way, Amber was calling to her, giving her courage.
The young girl aimed at the gap and kicked-
When the first ray of light broke through, all darkness disappeared. The butterfly emerged from the cocoon, and the wine barrel that once held Dill was far more fragile than she imagined.
Dill fell into a mass of rich green, blades of grass sliding coolly past her face, sunlight fluffy and light in the gaps, dreamlike. A red fruit pushed against Dill, giving her a taste of sweet dew—a taste of hope. Dill didn't bother to marvel at the miracle and immediately grabbed hold of a sturdy tree trunk.