Epilogue

“So you knew it was me the entire time?” I asked, nudging her. The snow had all but melted, the birds were chirping, and my fingers were freezing off. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It didn’t seem my place,” she said. “And ‘sides, you seemed so discomforted, we thought to give you the space to come to terms with yourself.” We walked down the village road, greeting and occasionally accepting gifts from people as we passed them by. Over time, I’d been fully accepted into the landscape of the town. More importantly, I’d also been fully accepted as being Octavia’s, and her as mine. She was positively radiant as we went around town and I felt like I was being paraded in the best way possible. I’d never had someone be proud to be around me before, let alone to be by my side.

She’d mentioned that she didn’t like possessiveness. In theory. In practice, however, she had made it very, very clear that she was having a hard time not thinking of me as hers, and that she partly wanted to claim me, even if it was only for a little bit. 

“Where next?” I asked as I dropped off the last of my deliveries. Now that Spring was properly coming around, it was going to be easier — I hoped — to supply people with herbal remedies. Technically, I was still the town Witch. In practice, though, it was more like I was the town pharmacist. 

Apparently, despite all of the myths and legends I’d heard of and read, werewolves did not have any kind of supernatural strength, stamina or ability to heal, so I had my work cut out for me, and I wasn’t nearly as liable to isolate as my predecessor had been. 

“Well,”  she said as she took my hand in hers, our fingers intertwining, “I was hoping we could go home and spend some time, just the two of us.” She still stayed at her parents’ house occasionally — they still needed her help with the farm — but most days she lived with me now. It was exactly as blissful as it sounded, even though we had epic nightly battles over the blankets, usually resolved through diplomatic spooning.

Now, what I wanted to say back was something suave like “Oh, what did you have in mind?” or “I aim to please.” Instead, all I managed was a nervous “Hheh,” and a lip-bite. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, and kissed me. In the middle of the street. I felt the urge to wag a tail I didn’t currently have. Instead, I just nodded enthusiastically. We worked our way home. When we were close, Tavi broke into a sprint. I gave chase, because it only made sense to do so. By the time we were at our front door, both of us were out of breath and laughing our butts off. 

“You,” I huffed, “are a menace.” I had to prop myself up on my knees to look at her. She giggled as she righted herself against the doorframe, giving me a cocksure grin. 

She laughed, brushing hair out of her face. “And you love me for it.”

“You’re right about that,” I said, grabbing her face in my hands and kissing her, pinning her body against the wall with mine. Immediately every desire we’d slowly built up throughout the day was letting itself out. Our hands roamed each other, and I’d forgotten all about my cold fingers. 

There was only Octavia and my desire for her. Her hands and her lips and her skin and her hair and her breath and her gasps and her body against mine. We didn’t even stop kissing as I pushed the door open and we practically fell into the room. 

“Shall I come back another time, then?” a voice behind us said. We immediately pulled away to look at the intruder. 

“Tavi,” I said. 

“Yes, love.”

“There’s a woman in our living room.”

“So there is.”

“That’s a dog by her feet.”

“So it is.”

“She’s got quite a large hat.”

“So she does.”

“I think she might be a witch.”

“I reckon you’re right, love.”

The woman put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. She seemed familiar, clad in all black. That’s when I realised she was wearing modern clothing, although her Witch’s hat seemed to have been made a little less professionally. She had a bag slung over her shoulder, which she was rooting around in. Against the far wall, the wolf-like shape of Pancakes was standing on his tiptoes, his back arched. He made a sort of wheezing sound I could only imagine was an attempt at hissing.  “You must be Octavia,” she said. “I seen you down at the village.” 

“Excuse me?” Tavi replied. “Who are you? Why are you in our house? And how do you know me?” She marched across the wood floor to the woman, who just crossed her arms defiantly. The dog at her feet, some kind of Lab or Retriever, growled as Octavia approached, but she wasn’t the least bit intimidated. 

“Don’t speak to me like that in my own house, girl,” the woman said. She glared past Tavi and at me. “Though I suppose under the circumstances I understand your misgivings.” The penny dropped, realisation set in, horror crept up. I’d recognized the witch, because she looked… well, a lot like I had. Before I’d come here. Only more like… my own sister. The jawline was there. The rough frame. But the eyes were more alert than mine had ever been. The hair was long and well kept. The eyebrows groomed. The eyeliner razor sharp. 

“No way,” I mumbled, and walked up. “You’re… you’re the original Witch?”

“Yes,” she said. “And I see you’ve had more success with that body than I did.” 

“Wait, so you were trying to…” I nodded. It made a degree of sense. There had been a ritual, after all, for a witch who didn’t go in with magic. “Wait, if that’s what you were trying to do that night, why am I here?”

“Because magic is unreliable, frustrating, and makes no sense,” she huffed, her hands on her hips. “Though I’m lucky to say that medicinal remedies in your world have proven to be more reliable. Considering your —” she waved to Octavia and myself, “— activities, I’ll assume you’re quite happy with the changes.” 

“I am,” I said with a little smile, and found myself standing next to Octavia again. Partly because I wanted to protect her. Partly because I wanted her to protect me. “So you’re on… uh, hold on, Hormone Replacement Therapy?”

“Yes,” she said. “I am. Not as fast as I’d like, faster than I could’ve hoped for when resorting to… horse extract.” She scrunched her nose up. “But I feel things could be improved, so I decided to try my hand at magics again to find my notebooks.” She held up one of the journals with an accusing glare. “Though I found someone else has been writing notes in the byline.”

“Listen!” I retorted, “I didn’t know if you’d be back, some of this stuff is more useful than other stuff, and I needed to make sense of some of your scribbles! Your handwriting is abominable!” 

“I had other things on my mind, I’ll have you know!” she said, slapping the palm of her hand with the journal for emphasis. “Not to mention the fact that it is, in fact, quite hard to concentrate on something as inconsequential as handwriting when your body feels wrong.”

“Well, I can relate to that at least,” I said, shrugging. “Alright, fair, you can take the journals with you. Oh! Could you leave the ones about animal husbandry though?” I nodded at a stack near the cosy corner. “You had some really interesting ideas about calves and I know Tavi’s Da has a cow that’s probably going to have a difficult pregnancy and—”

“Yes, yes,” The Witch said, waving her hand dismissively, but I could see a smile playing around her lips. “I get the feeling they weren’t in… the worst hands imaginable.” She put the journal in her bag. 

“Who’s, uh, the dog?” I looked down. The dog looked up. It looked smarter than any dog I’d ever seen. 

“Clarus,” The Witch said. “Though he used to look like that.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder at the still-hissing Pan. “I attempted to give him a body that conformed somewhat to the image he had of himself. This was the best I could do, but he seems happy enough.” She put her hand on his head and I could see his tail begin to wag ever so slightly. Still a dog, then. 

“And your name?” Octavia asked. “We all just called you ‘The Witch’ down in the village.” She was a little less combative now that she knew who the intruder was. 

“Well, what my name used to be, I suppose, no longer matters,” she said. “Call me what you like.” She looked at me. “Oh, if you’re intending for us to trade places again, you’ll have to get your name changed from Morgan. Although I would warn you that, if you do, I will resist you.”

The thought of fighting her seemed so absurd, the casualness with which she’d uttered the possibility so ridiculous, I just laughed. “No,” I said, “I don’t think I will. I’m quite happy here. I take it you are, too?” 

Morgan nodded as she walked around the room and grabbed more of her journals. “Yes. Though the world seems to have some trouble accepting the existence of magic and witchcraft, and I’m hardly the best person to show them. Nonetheless, I think great strides are being made.”

“Excuse me? You just… announced it?”

“Yes,” she said with another nod. “It seemed prudent. There’s some systems in place that make change too gradual and easy to resist by those in authority. It seems to be helping.” She scratched her dog behind the ears. “Now, I believe I should start heading back. I’ll be ‘round some other time in case I’ve forgotten something. I detest this kind of magic, and there’s always a possibility of damaging reality or some such nonsense.”

“Wait!” I said. “There’s so much I still want to ask you! What’s the world like now? What are you going to do next? How did you first manage when you got there?” The idea of a Witch in our world, casually mucking things up, overturning established rules of reality and society almost casually was… well, I wanted to know more. But the Witch didn’t seem particularly interested in telling me about it. 

“Suffice it to say that I’ve done well for myself. Should you need something more concrete than stories, tell me now, and I’ll attempt to provide it when next I visit.” She looked at where she’d appeared. There were slight scorch marks on the floor, and for the first time, she looked a little sheepish. “I’ll… try to aim for the front porch, that time.”

I looked at Octavia, to see if there was something she could think of, but she just shook her head. I turned to the witch and smirked. “Could you bring me some different cookbooks?” I asked. “I miss some of the cooking from back home. Different cuisines, and all that.”

“I can do that,” Morgan said. She looked behind her. “Anything you want me to do about the cat?” I thought about that for a moment. Pancakes had always been a relaxed cat, and that hadn’t really changed now that he was a wolf. He was still happy, still kind of dumb, still easygoing. I shook my head. 

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I think he likes it this way.”

“Very well,” The Witch nodded at both of us. “I bid you both a good day. And I apologise for the… interruption.” Morgan raised her hands and started to weave symbols in the air. She opened her mouth, eyes fixed straight ahead, clearly ready to speak the incantations that would take her back to my — well, her — world, but then paused. She looked at Tavi. “Congratulations on the baby.” Then, with a guttural word and a flash of nothing, she was gone. 

I turned to Octavia like a glacier on an afternoon stroll. “The bwh?”

She bit her lip. “I was going to surprise you later,” she said. 

Well… I just had to kiss her again.

Elamimax

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