The Hag

Lochlann had never been afraid of the dark.

He wasn't even afraid of the dark now, even if the finger-like branches interlocked like lovers and blotted out the sun. The heat of the day baked the dead undergrowth and perfumed the air with its earthy scent.

It felt ridiculous to feel so safe in a place so dangerous, but Lochlann is a predator, and he'd been trapped in a school surrounded by prey, unable to eat, unable to drink, unable to sleep.

The tremors were getting bad. He needed to get out, get some fresh air, but everywhere he went, he felt the island closing in on him. But not here. Here it was quiet, here it was dark, moist, like the edge of a lakeside. He took a deep breath, paused, exhaled. His stomach clawed at him and he felt the hunger strongly, but it was slowing down without anything to tempt him.

He took his shoes off. His feet, though human in appearance, clopped against the empty path, and he found himself lifting his legs a little higher as though he was in his other shape, his real shape.

And that's when he heard the voice.
He couldn't make out the words, his head muddled by his own pain, but he heard the humming and it brought out something in him deeper than the hunger. It echoed against the hollow, lonely part of him, the part of him that was tired of hurting, tired of waking up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, tired of the hunger, tired of everything.

He didn't know where he was going, but his body seemed to. He followed the path blindly, half believing this was just another fever dream. He went to that light like a moth to a flame.

There was something he needed.

"Hello?"

No one ever told Lochlann not to talk to strangers. In fact, it was strangers who weren’t supposed to talk to Lochlann. He was the monster lurking below the surface, the danger in the shadows. He was what parents used to scare their children into behaving. He was….lonely.

He recognized something in the women’s voice. “I am Alone in my home in the woods,” she had said, and Lochlann recognized that feeling. His head felt hazy, though, like he’d been drinking, but Lochlann hadn’t tasted booze since he set foot on this god forsaken island.

He observed the woman, noticing that she was as tall as he was, maybe even taller. Both of her eyes were colors Lochlann hadn’t seen on a person before, save for a Halloween party he’d attended (he ended up having to leave after the hot-tub incident), and though her face was smooth, her eyes looked…old?

It didn’t matter. She was a woman and Lochlann was hungry.

"I welcome you, young man, into my abode. I am known as a witch, though I prefer to say I'm good at making deals. I feel great pain in your soul. Join me for tea and we can talk about your... lacks."

No one had ever read Lochlann fairytales. The warning signs where all there--a witch, a comfortable cottage in the middle of the woods--but he was oblivious.

"Why do you live here, in the middle of the woods?" He asked. Maybe she liked the solitude.

Lochlann made the biggest mistake he could:

He stepped into the hut.

Once the door closed behind him, the pain came back. It shot vine-like tendrils down his body, coating his back with a thin layer of sweat and making him wipe his palms on his pants. He felt dizzy, feverish, and when the chair pulled out in front of him he collapsed into it without a second thought. He found it strange that sweat didn't do to him what rain or ocean spray did. He knew that this wasn't as bad as it could get. It could be so much worse.

Tea.
Lochlann had never had tea. He assumed, because she told him that she was a witch, that it was some kind of potion. He wondered if there was blood in it.

"And tell me, why have you come to me? Why have you come to Viazi?"

"I had no where else to be," he said, watching as the room shook. But it wasn't the room. It was him.

If Viazi was to look into his eye now, she'd see that they'd dilated so far as to engulf his pupils completely. It wasn't the magic doing this to him...Lochlann was hungry, very, very hungry.

"Why do you live out here, all alone?" His voice dropped, silky and smooth, "Such a beautiful woman like yourself...such a reader, too? Surely there must be someone who calls you their own?

Lochlann watched from his dark eyes as she removed the kettle from the fire. He could smell the steam coming from the pot and hear it hiss, but he couldn't smell burning flesh. Loch felt his mouth fill with drool anyway. He swallowed it, the pain in him roaring and forcing him to give a slow, wide smile. His teeth would look unnaturally sharp, but it could easily be a trick of the fire light or the bright flash of the strange orb above them.

Loch leaned back in the chair with his legs extended limply, a contrast to Viazi's straight posture. One hand wrapped around the cup of black tea, and although his shaking was subtle and easily missed, it wouldn't allow him to pick up the cup. When he watched Viazi recline as well, the slow smile spread across his face once more.

So she also killed a man, he noted, though his brain still felt dulled and hazy. A part of him was starting to gain an inkling that he might be in danger, but this was easily ignored by the brewing hunger consuming him from the inside out. Besides, he'd killed plenty of people. It's what got him on this damn island to start with.

"Dear Viazi," he tsked, his imitation of her phrasing coming across with a velvety tone, flattering rather than mocking. "You talk about a price to be paid for a trade, but you ask that I give my words for free? What ails me is mine and mine alone."

If he were in better shape, this is where he would have gotten up to pace, but his legs were made of pins and he couldn't tell if it was better to stand or remain where he was. At least in the chair he couldn't fall over if he collapsed.

"You say you cannot leave, but was it not your voice that brought me here?" His dark eyes gleamed. "If you have no company, why are you so quick to make a bargain rather than entertain? I cannot give marvelous things as you, but I do have a gift or two up my sleeves. Why place business before pleasure?"

He was relaxed in posture despite the pain, prepared to wait if he must.
Loch had nothing but time, and he was very patient.

Lochlann fingered the thin chain that hung around his neck, watching Viazi give him a dangerous smile. He was putting the pieces together slowly in his mind. She described herself as a spider, presumably making him the fly, but she was unable to leave.

And she was impatient. That made Loch grin.

So what would happen if he sat here, continuing to be patient while she urged him onwards? He was in too much pain to want to get up, but that didn't bother him now. What could she possibly do to him that was worse than what he felt already?

"What is it that you want from me?" Loch asked, strumming his shaking fingers across the table. His tea sat before him, untouched. "I can give you a way out, you know."