The Pond - Part 16

Izolda stood in the witch’s cave, her cave, for the very last time. She glanced around, making sure she was not leaving behind anything important. In the pack at her feet was the book of spells and recipes that had once belonged to Varnya. As well, there were several sealed glass bottles of potions, and several bundles of dried herbs that she might have difficulty finding in the new world.

On the shelf by the bed was the journal she no longer had any use for, as well as the tinctures she didn’t require for the journey. They’d be easy enough to recreate at a later time. The bed was made, the cave was clean – she shouldered the pack and left without a backward glance. At the mouth of the cave she paused and set the ward. It would only allow a woman to pass, and only one with power.

She moved through the woods silently. This was the only thing she was going to miss. The forest had been her sanctuary, a source for herbs for her potions. While she was sure the new world would have forests as well, it would not be the same.

Back at the village, she slipped into the house unseen. A large wooden trunk rested on the hearth. It was only half full, but Izolda didn’t have all that much of her own. She wrapped the spell book in a spare skirt, as much to protect it as to hide it, and then fitted the bottles into a case she’d had made by her brother Dimitri, who had a fine hand for woodworking.

Hearing the approach of someone, she quickly buried the case in the center of the trunk. Though the bottles could be mistaken for bottles of scent or skin creams, she didn’t want to take the chance of anyone recognizing them for what they really were.

Izolda’s aunts Anya and Polina entered, both carrying bundles of cloth.

“Izolda!” Polina said. “We were hoping to find you here. Come, come, see what we have brought you.”

They set their bundles on the table.

“What is all this,” Izolda asked, mystified.

“We know there is not a husband waiting for you, as there is for Katrinka,” Anya said. “But there is a good chance you will find one, and quickly too, a pretty girl like you.”

“You have spent so much time helping Katrinka with her trousseau, you’ve had no time for your own,” Polina added. “So we have taken it upon ourselves to help you out. See, here are towels and bed linens.” She held out a towel for her inspection.

“And here is a quilt, made by us all,” Anya said, resting her hand on the folded fabric.

“Oh, how wonderful,” Izolda said, playing the part of being genuinely touched. “I cannot believe you did this for me.”

“We could not let our sister’s daughter go off to start her new life unprepared,” Polina said gruffly.

“Thank you, both of you.” Steeling herself, Izolda, who rarely touched another person, hugged them both. She placed the linens in the trunk. “It was just what was needed,” she told them.

“I will miss you sorely,” she said, closing the trunk.

“You will not have time to miss us,” Anya assured her. “First there will be Katrinka’s wedding, then no doubt you’ll be planning one of your own.”

“No doubt.”

The next morning her trunk was loaded onto the bed of the wagon alongside Katrinka’s larger, heavier one. It was a day’s journey to the seaport where the ship was waiting to take them away, so the girls said their goodbyes at the village.

At last they were on their way, Katrinka’s father driving the wagon. Katrinka kept turning and waving, tears streaming down her face. But Izolda as dry-eyed as she faced forward into her future.