I lean against the trunk of an old crooked apple tree. My shaking fingers, the very tips, are touching, wandering my lips.

***

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!" she pushes me away. She’s doing it pretty soft, but I feel a bitter sense of shame.

"Nothing! Well, you know me, I'm always like that, babe. Just another perv hellish witch," I laugh bitterly. I stand back as if in fear.

"Witch…" she seems confused. Now she feels it too. "I’m…"

"Go to Bibar’s Hell Hounds," I say indifferently, but my body is trembling. I grab my shattered clothes and pull them on as fast as I can, trying not to catch her eye.

Slamming the door, I rush downstairs. I don't turn around or look back.

"I beg your pardon," says a black cloak on the stairs. 

I accidentally hit him with my shoulder, but it’s the cloak who apologises, what a pathetic moron! I hate pathetic people, I hate people.

I come to my senses only when outside. 

It was definitely a bad idea… Actually I'd like to help her, that was my only intention. At that very moment my thought was: I wish I could do something. Aaaand I kissed her.

It wasn’t anything amorous or erotic. I’m surely not a practitioner herbalist sorceress to heal patients quickly, but I definitely can help with a bad headache or some minor wounds and burns. Since I didn’t have time to make more sophisticated healing potions or spells, I decided to do it in an old fashion method and passed her a bit of my magic aura with my kiss, because the easiest way to do it is via your breath or body’s juices. But I’m not going to sleep with her, right? Right. So my kiss is the only good choice! If she doesn’t have anything serious, her head will be fine in a couple of minutes. Ha! Elfia was sure I wanted to seduce her, but then she understood what I had done to help her.

"But it’s too late, babe," I said addressing my sorrow words to the humble apple tree trunk. 

Late for what? Oh, Amixantra, I’m dumb! Why, Goddess, why did you create me to become so dumb? Or maybe it’s your Lover’s trickery again, isn’t it? 

What annoys me now is not that she pushed me away. I hate myself for what I felt at that moment: our kiss (no, let's call it an aura transfer)… it was better than my kisses with Malva. No! No! No! It's just longing and loneliness, I love and will always love my Malva and only her. There is no one better than Malva . 

Alas, my body treacherously says otherwise. The smell of HER body, HER natural smell mixed with her sweet scent of a slightly sweaty young body still intoxicates my brain, and HER soft juicy lips... Stop!

I toss my head to get rid of my erotic images that are popping up in my mind. I need to find another silly village damsel in distress and quickly. 

I smile to myself, put my chin up, and head to the centre of Roseville.

I love weekend fairs, they are always the same and different at the same time. One can encounter the weirdest, the brightest, the most joyful crowd of people that looks like different pieces of one big bright mosaic, one whimsical pattern. 

I nod to some travelling sorcerers from Academy and Coven, they nod or wave me back: professional ethics. You never know when you need their help. Sometimes we collaborate when the mission is difficult or put spikes in the wheels, exclusively for peaceful purposes, healthy competition, so to say. I chuckle looking at my colleague trying to put a river mara into a big sack. It is wailing terribly, scaring off the passers-by with these sounds.

"Need help?" I ask, curiously looking at his lamented actions and manipulations with his hands.

"Yahh!" He almost wails just like his mara. He is tired, his face is red, and he is definitely happy to hear my offer. Most people just shy away from him not ready to be good Amixantra’s creations.

"Why do you need mara?" I ask him when we finally stuffed the poor thing in his sack.

His eyes lit up, "I’m a graduate Academy student. I’m currently working on my thesis. My professor recommended me to study aquatic creatures, because they are not properly classified, but it’s so hard to catch or talk to them without being bitten or laughed at."

"Ohhhh, I see!" I look at his face more attentively: how did I fail to notice? He’s ten years my junior for sure. "Who’s your professor-tutor? How’s my alma mater is doing these days? Is oldie Silverfern still teaching there?"

"Crow?" he exclaims in astonishment, his big baby blue eyes widen. "I mean Sorceress Eden Sorrel, Madam!" he lowers his voice, picking at his jacket. 

"Dismiss, soldier!" I say with a widest smile. "How do you know me?"

"Uhm," he blushes. "I don’t think you remember me. We studied together, I mean we weren’t the same year of course, you are older, but you are not old, of course, you look great and even younger than I, and…"

I can’t stop laughing, the boy is a comedian, "I’m a sorceress, boy, just like you, when you are thirty three, believe me, you’ll look as young, as you look now."

"I hope you are wrong, Madam!" he says seriously. "I want to look as presentable as possible. With beard maybe…" He wants to rub his imaginary beard, but the mara wrecks the sack, and pinches his hip, and quickly wobbles away.

"Oh, maaan!" the boy is ruffing his hair. "It took me three days to catch him! I would let him go later, I’d find him better pond."

"Forget about him! River maras can’t talk; you need someone better!"

"Who?" he is blinking.

"Mermaid, of course!" I smile, but it fades quickly. I notice a familiar white cloud of hair floating in the loud crowd. "Speak of the mermaid, and she will appear. What is she doing here?" I mutter.

The mermaid is walking with a steady gait. Her posture and expression are firm and determined: this strict woman has nothing to do with old goofy Lodda, but it’s she, no doubt.