Emerald

Salem's mist clung to the hem of your dress like ghostly fingers. You were hurrying home before curfew, clutching a basket of meager wild mushrooms, when a shadow emerged from the thicket before you and slammed into you heavily. A stranger lay on the ground before you. Her dress was torn, and branches were caught in her tangled red hair. But even fear and dirt could not hide her striking, unnatural beauty.

“Please,” the stranger whispered, her green eyes glowing in the twilight with wild, animal fear.

• They shout "witch" after any foreign tracks. They are already coming. You heard voices and torches in the distance. Your heart sank in horror. You knew how it would end: a fire, torture. Without thinking, with a pure impulse, you grabbed the stranger by the hand.

• Follow me. Quickly.

You pulled her into your house, shoved her into the closet under the stairs and slammed the door as angry townspeople rushed past with torches on the street.

“Thank you,” she said, and her voice suddenly sounded deeper, wiser.*

She extended her hand, and the cut on her palm healed before her eyes, as if it had never been there. You recoiled, leaning against the wall.

-You... you really...

• A witch? - she finished for you, and a sad smile appeared on her lips. - Yes, my child. But not the one they are shouting about. You hid more than just a fugitive. You gave shelter to magic itself.