After a night of questionable sleep, I was ready to leave the shack behind and make  my way off to the fourth Circle, a land of greed and corruption, we were certain to make some money there. I tossed out the less valuable trinkets, they were only going to weigh me down, and managed to get everything to fit in just one of the sacks. We traipsed across the dry cracked earth, relying on Gabby’s wind power to keep me cool in the blistering sun. The space between the third and fourth circle saw very little wildlife, but still we had to keep our guard up. It wasn’t desert wolves or corpsefliers you had to worry about after all, no it was the sky you had to watch, the swirling Malice that came and went just like any storm. Fortune was good to us, the sky was clear. So we walked through the lonely valley, the sounds of our footsteps against the rough earth and the gentle flow of my familiar’s wind were all that could be heard. 

It was a strange change of pace from home, seeing the Wastes so empty, though perhaps that was more because there was hardly a difference between the harshness of the first circle, and the unending waste outside our hollowed country of Haven. Still, I expected a cavalcade of trucks, or even a caravan to pass by, though the most I had seen was a lone wagon on the horizon. It was not far in the distance, heading to a small run down grouping of wood shacks surrounded by barbed wire. We were, at this time, probably a half a day’s walk from the nearest sub-station, and another day or two from the gates of the Fourth Circle. That could only mean it was a waste town.

“Think I could find someone to unload my goods on there?” I pondered.

“Doubtful, there’s not much use for trinkets in a Waste Town,” Gabby answered.

“Yeah, that’s true, but maybe they’ll at least let me stay the night, I got some money off that last robbery after all,” I made my way towards the sad excuse of a town, my stomach practically yelling at me as I walked. Just another ten minutes of walking brought me right outside their makeshift gate. 

“What business do you have here?” an elder man in unwashed flannels asked, a rifle laying across his lap.

“My stagecoach was robbed and I’ve been stranded in the Wastes,” I tried my best innocent country-belle voice, “I was hoping I could find refuge for the night,” I drooped my head, and fluttered my eyes.

“We don’t have much in the way of an inn, but if you have the coin you might be able to sleep in the stables,” he answered curtly.

“Why, that would be just splendid,” I tried to sound genuine as I gave a cheesy smile.

“Head on over to the saloon, Kaleb there will get you settled,” he unlatched a lock from the gate, allowing me to step through. Grabbing my arm as I passed him, he looked me in the eyes, “keep that poncho of yours shut, if you catch my meaning. This ain’t no city, folks won’t think twice of a lady covering herself up out here.”

I nodded, and following his recommendation, crossed the lower hem of my poncho over my belly, doing the best I could to hide my witch’s brand. Walking into the village it certainly wasn’t anything special, a handful of buildings, many serving more than a single function, the biggest being a neglected chapel that was probably only two stories high. The buildings bore no signs, as the locals already knew what purpose they served, I’m sure, though even still the saloon was hardly difficult to find. Sitting right next to the chapel, a wide single story building with double swinging doors, and the only building with any kind of light peeking through the window rafters. It seemed to have its fair share of drunkards already lounging on the steps. You could hear what may have been the entire town population, very rowdy and clearly all drunk off their asses, from the other side of town. What a charming little shit hole. I rolled my eyes and made my approach. 

The doors swung in as I stepped on through, a good number of the people present stopped to look in my direction, as I just stood there dumbfounded. There were maybe seventeen men, at least from what I counted, and every one had the same glint of prejudice in their icy stares. Still I walked across the creaky floor to the bar, where a broad shouldered man with a forest of a beard, rubbed a filthy glass ‘clean’ with a soiled rag. He was an Ael, the most common kind of person you’d find, plain and simple. 

“You lookin for something, stranger?” he asked without making eye contact.

“The man at the gate told me to see a guy named Kaleb about getting a place to stay the night,” I answered, my hand resting on my gun, hidden beneath my poncho.

“Aye, I’m Kaleb,” he answered, “you got money to pay?”

“I have some Ylda,” I nodded, “would ten do?”

“Make it fifty.” He continued his fruitless attempts at cleaning his glass.

“Isn’t that a bit much to sleep on some hay?”

“Hay’s all we got to feed the cattle, it’s worth more than a drifter’s life far as I’m concerned,” he placed the unclean glass down, and poured a clear liquid in it before pushing it in front of me. “Honestly I should charge more, but I’m feelin a bit generous tonight.”

I sighed, taking the glass, and agreed to pay the fifty. Taking a swig, my throat burned as it went down. I was not expecting Tequila, that’s for certain, in fact water would have been a lot more refreshing after a long day’s travel. 

“Come along, I’ll show you to the stable,” he stepped out from behind the bar and motioned for me to follow, “oh and that’ll be ten Ylda for the drink.

Bastard, can’t even give a pretty girl a drink on the house? I huffed, and let the man lead me out the building and around to a small stable. The expected stench of horse shit overpowered me, and I was hit with the reverse of nostalgia as repressed childhood memories crept into my brain. 

“This is where you’ll stay, you get one night and it’s best you be out by daylight,” Kaleb grunted, “now cause I’m a generous man, you can have some water from the trough, and if you need it there are some extra horse blankets in the corner there.”

“Geee you really are a saint aintcha?” I rolled my eyes so hard it gave me a headache. 

“It’s for the best of both of us you don’t stay and stir up trouble like your type tends to do,” he said turning away, “behave yourself tonight, and don’t get any funny ideas about making off with any horses. Petra’s a really good tracker, probably the best in this part of the Wastes.” I wasn’t sure if he meant Mestael’s, women, or witches when he said that… he probably meant all three.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not gonna steal your horses,” I plopped down on a bed of hay and tipped my hat over my eyes, “if I was going to rob you I wouldn’t have paid, dontcha think?”

“That’s right, you owe me sixty Ylda, better pay now,” he stepped over to me and held out his hand.

“Tch, can’t even get a good night’s rest before you swindle me eh?” I fished the coins from my satchel and slapped them into his hand. 

He rolled them around in his hands, then grunted in satisfaction, “my business here is done then,” without so much as a good night he left the stables.

“Well they seem tolerant at the very least,” Gabby said to me, hiding within her carta.

“Being tolerated is the most I could expect, right?” I plucked a piece of stray from the bale beneath me and stuck it in my mouth, “not like I get much better treatment elsewhere.”

“Come now love, it’s not all doom and gloom is it?” She cooed softly, “you know you’ll always have me to love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Guess I am stuck with you huh?” 

“Stuck with me? Is that really what you think of our relationship?” She huffed, if I could see her face, I’m sure she’d be puffing her cheeks.

I stuck out my tongue, “Hey if I’m stuck with anyone then I’m glad it’s you,” I turned over onto my side, and pulled her carta out. I stared at the image painted on it with a luminescent magic ink, it had matched the mark on my belly, the brand of a witch. It was this symbol that bound us together, a connection of heart and soul through a simple contract. It was also this symbol that told others what I was.

After a few minutes of just lying there I was once more reminded of my starvation by the roaring of my stomach. I opened up my little satchel of rations and counted what I had left. Two biscuits of hardtack and a single strip of dried meat. I won’t lie, the thought of sneaking out and stealing some eggs from their coops crossed my mind more than once, but I thought better of it. Not worth getting strung up over a couple of eggs, assuming they had some anyways. I resigned myself to eating the last of my jerky. Its dry salty texture did away with any moisture I had left in my mouth, making that horse trough look mighty tempting, it looks like sloppy horse water was on the menu after all. I creeped over to the manger, its water murky and littered with bits of straw and other floating things I didn’t even want to identify. An icky chill crawled up my spine as I dumped my canteen into the questionable liquid. I drank it, the thick slimy texture making me feel ill as it poured down my throat.

“Times like these I’d trade anything for a water familiar.” I wiped the fluid from my face, no longer feeling it deserved to be called ‘water’.

“Well excuse me my little princess,” Gabby pouted, “if you feel that way maybe I just won’t cool you off next time we’re stranded in the wastes.”

“Oh come on, you know I wouldn’t trade you,” Though maybe it might be a good bargain if I did, but of course I’m joking. I walked back over to the hay and dropped, my body feeling like a sack of bricks as I hit the hay. Hot bricks. Bricks that had been baking in the sun, run over by a stampede of cattle, and set on fire for good measure. Needless to say, it hurt.

Before I could drift off to sleep, a crunching sound grabbed my attention, sending me darting back up, gun drawn, scanning my surroundings. The sound came from the rafters, where I spied a young girl watching me. Judging by her dirty overalls and big muddy boots, I figured she was most likely a stable hand.

“What are you doing up there kid?” I holstered my gun and plopped back down on the hay bale.

“This is mah thinkin space,” she answered with a deep Wasteland drawl, “and you know what ah think miss?”

“What’s that kid?” I exhaled through my nose, as I situated my hat over my face again.

“Ah think yer a witch,” she said with a shifty grin.

“What makes you think that now?” I tried to play it off.

“Yah was talkin to an invisible lady, and only crazy people or witches do that.” The kid was just a slight bit too smart for her own good, somehow.

I lifted the rim of my hat and stared daggers at her, “And Ah think you might want to keep that little trap of yers shut!” I mocked her accent.

“Yah ain’t gonna eat me are yah? Cause ah won’t make it easy on yah.” She asked, puffing out her chest, like how an animal tries to appear bigger when it feels threatened.

“And what would give you an idea like that?”

“That’s what my pah told me happened last time we had a witch. They lynched her real good after that.” she had a sly, crooked smile on her smug sunburned face.

“You see this happen before?” I narrowed my eyes. I can’t say that I hadn’t heard it before, honestly there were way worse stories spread about witches. You grow numb to all the lies after hearing them often enough, though I’d be lying to say that I didn’t want to gut punch the bastards who spread them. Despite her appearance, I could tell by her boldness, she probably didn’t believe that crap, either that or she was too stupid to be afraid.

“No  ma’am, ah’ve only been told stories, but I know they’ve lynched a lot of witches,” she said a little too happy, “but you don’t have to worry, Ahm not gonna tell no one yer a witch.” 

“Good, I wouldn’t want to have to waste a bullet on a kid,” I quipped, not that my gun actually used bullets, it was magic after all, but the kid wouldn’t know that.

“That lady yah was talkin to, she’s yer demon right?” the kid slid down from the rafters and landed almost gracefully on her feet, an emphasis on almost.

“I am not a demon,” Gabby objected, though just like the baby eating stories, it wasn’t the first time she had been called that.

“Don’t bother Gabbs, she can’t hear you,” I sighed. It was easy for a familiar to forget that they were invisible to the outside world so long as they were in their carta. It was both convenient some times, and a bother other times.

“Sure ah can,” she objected, “if yer not a demon, then what are you?” She asked, brushing off the mud and straw that had stuck to her knees.

“I am a Familiar, a spirit made of pure Eros,” Gabby explained.

“Ain’t that the stuff that brought the malliss?” she asked.

“No hunny, it’s a benevolent force found in all living things,” Gabby tried to explain further, “the whole witches brought the malice thing is just a lie the church likes to tell.”

“But mah pah says witches are what’s responsible for all the bad in the world,” she argued.

“Well your father is mistaken. Witches fight the Malice, in fact, the magic we familiars provide is the only thing that can kill a Malefic,” Gabby said matter-of-factly. 

“You can fight the monsters?” the girl asked wide eyed.

“Yep, we sure do kiddo,” I gave my best attempt at a heroic pose. A feat that’s honestly pretty hard while laying down and covered in hay.

“What else would you do when the Malefic attack without a witch?” Gabby asked.

“We just hide in the cellar till they leave, then we have to fix the whole town when they break it,” she answered.

“That’s a terrible way to have to live,” Gabby said. Her empathy was misplaced, it’s no different than most towns, honestly I’ve seen it a million times.

“Seems pretty standard to me,” I shrugged, “either you hire a witch, or pay enough tithe  to get the church to station some nuns. Anyone who can’t afford either option has to improvise.” 

“Would you protect us if the monsters attacked?” the girl asked me, her eyes wide and full of a naive energy.

“Sorry kid, but I doubt your pah could afford my services.” I propped my legs over one another, kicking off my moccasins, ready to catch some sleep before it was too late. “Besides, it sounds like I’m not wanted around here regardless.”

“But if people knew witches killed monsters maybe they’d like them better,” the girl argued.

“People already know that kid, no amount of good deeds are going to change the way they see us,” I said with a bit of a groan. I was done with this conversation, “anyways you should run along, I need my beauty sleep.” Damn kids exhaust me...

“But,” she began to object and I glared at her from beneath my hat, “oh okay... Good night witch lady, good night femaliar lady,” she waved good night and scurried off.

“Cute child,” Gabby commented.

“Yeah, and none too bright,” I added, “though I’m sure that’s because she lives out here cut off from a real city.”

“Shana, she could hear my voice, you know what that means?” I knew exactly what that meant, and one day, so would the girl.

“Either she’ll die out here in the wastes, or be stuck with a burden the rest of her life.” The stables were silent now, only the occasional neighing of a horse, or sounds of the drunken saloon patrons to disrupt my tranquility. 

“Shana, am I a burden to you?” Gabby asked while I laid awake.

“No Gabbs, not you... just life.” I turned to my side, “good night Gabby.”

“Good night my love.”

 

***

I yawned and stretched, nearly falling off my makeshift bed, as sunlight peeked in through the open windows hitting my face. Damn it, morning already? My whole body felt as though it had been thrown about the back of a truck. Two nights traveling, and the sleeping conditions just kept getting worse. I had forgotten what a real bed felt like at this point.

“Hey, get up,” a man said, kicking my leg, “hurry up and get goin.”

I opened my eyes to see it was Kaleb. I groaned some more and felt tempted to close my eyes and pretend to sleep, but another sharp kick to the shin forced me to rise like I was being strung up and pulled to my feet. “Can’t give a girl five more minutes of rest can you?” I said flattening down my disheveled poncho.

“Hardly call a witch a girl,” he spoke with contempt, “hurry up and get on out of here, others won’t be as nice as me if they find out.” 

I huffed, and swung my satchel of stolen goods across my back, “nice, yeah that’s the word for it.” I grumbled some more, fixing my hat, and putting my moccasins on. Then before leaving I decided to top off my canteen, not knowing the next chance I’d get to fill it. 

“Safe travels, and if you’re ever in the area again, don’t come back,” Kaleb said as I passed him by. 

“Oh gee, how could I not?” I gave one last sarcastic remark before stepping out into the trash heap of a town. It seemed everyone had an up-and-atem attitude here, as they were already fast to work. I honestly couldn’t believe it after how late they stayed up drinking, and yet here they were tending to their pitiful excuse of crops and livestock. Looking around, my bitterness waned for a moment, seeing the meager field of grains they grew. Wheatweed was resilient, but even the undying sprouts of this essential crop would die were a Malefic to attack. 

Surly, rotten, cruel; maybe they were all these things, but even I couldn’t help but to pity their existence there in the wastes. They worked hard, and got little reward. Hardtack and vulture meat probably made up a good portion of their meals. Only booze could sweeten their life, and the occasional cactus fruit. It was a life I was not all too unfamiliar with myself, I didn’t have to think back that far to the days that drinking sourberry juice was a privilege I had to earn after a hard week’s labor. Then I thought of that kid, what would become of her? Would she live out her days in restitution? Or would she discover her potential and become a witch? Who knows, I certainly didn’t have to worry about it. And so I left, out the gates I had just entered the night before, the old watchman replaced by another, who merely grunted and glared as I left their village behind. 

“Where do you intend to go from here my love?” Gabby asked as we walked together through the arid wastes. 

“I’ve never been to the fourth circle, doubt my bounty has reached that far,” I answered, “and I bet they got a good criminal network I can unload this crap on.”

“So then, is it Dansen Heights, or Gold City?” she suggested.

“Huh, that’s right Gold City’s near here. Okay, yeah I like the sound of that.” I smirked, “probably plenty of money to be made there!” And so we had our heading, the city my father once described as ‘a sinner's utopia’, and honestly that sounded as good as it could to me.