Harvest

She always started harvesting on full moon night, in the middle of her birth sign. Always. The magic was best that way.

But, of course, she never wanted people to know her birth day, so she'd go out in the garden at all times of the year. And at all times of the month, too. You never knew who was watching. Or at what hour. She learned to dabble - dig a little here, dig a little there, pull this, plant that, wander to that corner, kneel in this row for a bit. It was worth the extra time, because she was certain-sure that no one knew where she kept her rare and powerful plants.

The door was spell-locked, of course. And no windows in the snug cottage. Can't be overlooked when there's no peepy-hole to look over. It made her look poor, no windows, but well worth the extra security.

Most people assumed the spells stopped at the four walls. But she was an herb-witch, after all; her spells were layered like her scallions, through the rows and plant beds that circled her little house.

So when an outer spell-line was triggered, deep in the night, she knew. And by its buzz-snap, she knew the thing that triggered it had died. A critter, then. Sure enough, when she went out at dawn to collect rose-dew and lily-pollen, a rather plump rabbit was lying by the outer path. It went into her stew pot with rosemary and garlic, and a touch of sage and coriander. That broken spell-line was repaired under the guise of weeding.

It happened again the next night. And the next, and the next. At the exact same spot.

Ah. An enemy then, testing the barriers.

She checked the rabbits - what was left of them - for poisons and spell-traps. Sometimes the easiest way past defenses was to let the victim carry it in themselves. A pinch of yarrow and mint showed no traces, and a magicked amethyst didn't light in the slightest to show a physical poison.

Hmm. The hard way, then.

Each rabbit hide had been carefully stretched, the first step towards tanning. Why waste such gifts? But now one was removed, all the threads pulled out of the holes on the edges. Some more dabbling in the garden, with snips and collecting basket this time, and she had all the herbs she needed for a poppet. Taurus, the great Bull, was just setting, and the moon was in Gemini when she finished. She couldn't see them in the daylight, but she knew they were there all the same. It would help with the working.

This time, when the rabbit was forced to make its way over to the spell-line, it was met by a Thing that gobbled it up. It fought and struggled, but she was stronger, and took over the little thing's mind. And turned it right around and sent it back the way it came. To the sender, it looked as if it had died like all the others.

Subtlety was sent against her. They were not expecting it in return. Valerian and lavender, powerful herbs for bringing sleep. A touch of clove, to numb the mind. Sage and clary, to detect and avoid traps. Mandrake, collected in the darkest of night under her star sign, to bind it all together and defeat her enemy.

Whoever it was, they never saw it as a threat to stop. The rabbit returned, and once inside the spell lines, the poppet worked its magic sleep. Didn't they teach the classic fairy tales anymore? Did anyone heed their warnings?

Whoever they were, they were alone in their tower. Easy, then, to drop magicked seeds out of the poppet. Rose canes grew like Jack's famous vine, covering all the stones of the squat little tower with an impenetrable weave of thorny basketry.

She let the little rabbit go. The poppet could do its work on its own now, without a living rider.

She heard the news, much later, as she crouched in the shadow of a hedge leading to town. Some things were better wildcrafted, and she'd had her eye on a little patch of yellow sweet violets growing there for a long time. No one seemed to notice, much less claim them, so why not her?

"Really! The wizard's tower was covered in briars that night, and now no one can catch rabbits for miles around! It's uncanny! My cousin is talking about leaving, he's so unnerved about living nearby, and my uncle would gladly use the help. 'Sides, he's got two kids, and another on the way. Who wants to raise a family near that mess?"

"Sounds like no one misses him already. Too sly for his own good, and always slinking about, trying to take what he didn't want to pay for."

"Yep. And no one wants to go and check on 'im, not even the Baron. Let sleeping dogs lie, they say. Already looking for a better wizard, who'll stay in the keep, where the Baron can keep an eye on 'im. And I don't think the Prince will come calling to kiss whatever's inside!"

She smiled, and waited till the farmers moved on before getting up and gliding back to her cottage. Overhead, invisible in the sun, she could feel Libra gazing down.