#Lore24 – Entry #183 – Supers Month II #2 – The Way of Magic

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

I’d learn a few things when I finally woke up and took account of where I was.  I could smell the age of the old cabin mixed with the scent of herbs and fresh-baked bread, saw that my wounds had been tended and bandaged.  It only took a few moments before I realized I was right hungry, so I eased out of bed, unsteady as I was at the time, and stepped through the open doorway into the main room of the cabin.  That was when I’d meet Granny Opal for the first time, a witch older than the hills themselves so it was said.  I’d heard the name growin’ up but didn’t ever figure the tales of a witch up in the distant hills to be fact till I saw her and she introduced herself.  She weren’t nothing like what I figured from what I’d heard about her; she looked more like the ‘granny’ of her namesake than the old crone you’d think of when you hear the word “witch”, gray hair up in a bun, plump and wrinkled with age, a little pair of glasses threatening to slip off her nose, that kind of look. 

Still, she weren’t one to mince words and dillydally about, so she told me how it was and how it was going to be for a fair sight.  As she told it, I’d sought her out on my own after a fashion now that my powers had woke up, and she was gonna teach me how not to get myself and others killed with what I could do, at least, not by accident.  I guess maybe she took a bit of pity on me then when my stomach spoke up, cause she said she’d wait till after breakfast before startin’ my lessons.  I never once questioned her ‘bout all this; just seemed right to me now that I didn’t really have noweheres else to go; I had family up north ‘round Lexington somewhere, so I’d been told, but I never met them, so they might as well not have ever existed.  I took a seat at the old table and noted all the strange things she had hangin’ ‘round her place, animal bones and sticks and beads and feathers and the like, all kinds of different arrangements, and all kinds of bottles and jugs filled with things I’d learn about later on, not all of them pleasant.  Granny Opal was a good cook, I’d say, fixed some fine bread and stew, though the taste was a little funny till you got used to it.

Once my stomach weren’t interruptin’ us from jawin’, she started teachin’ me about what had happened.  I started gettin’ images in my head of what all had happened that day as my memories came rushin’ back.  I got real close to sickin’ up right then when I remembered what I’d done, but managed to hold all that food I’d just eaten in somehow.  As she went over the basics and started learnin’ me some techniques to focus my mind and spirit and my head cleared up, I first became aware of my familiar, Asher, lingerin’ over by the fence, chewin’ on some grass.  Turns out he’d been my familiar since I’d handled breakin’ him in a couple years back, I just never realized what it was I’d done.  Now that I’d started learnin’ the ways of magic, it weren’t long before I was talkin’ to him in my head and hearin’ his voice just as plain as day.  That’s how I eventually learned he’d picked me up out in the woods, havin’ slipped outta the stables on his own once the shootin’ started, and he’d sensed Granny Opal all on his own and took me to her.

I’d be sittin’ out the rest of the War with Granny Opal, becoming an apprentice witch, I suppose.  She’d introduce me to her familiar soon enough, a big ol’ bobcat named Smoky, and though he weren’t no normal bobcat, he still put Asher’s nerves on edge whenever he was about.  I’d learn that our familiars acted as something of a buffer and a conduit for tappin’ into the magic that was all around us, though I reckon magic had started to fade away from the world a while back for whatever reason, which was why there weren’t too many of us witches about anymore.  They were also magical beings, our familiars, bonded to us for the rest of our days, though they could certainly still be killed through other means, and were that to happen, we’d lose our connection to the majority of our magic till we bonded a new one. 

I’d learn some basic control techniques, how to call upon the elements and formulate magical essence into our “spells”, and a fair bit of her herbalism and alchemy, and how to use the mystic sight, too.  ‘Course, I had to learn all them pesky rules and such about what I should and shouldn’t be doin’ with my magic, but I’ll save all that lecturin’ for somewheres else. 

We didn’t see a lot of visitors out there at Granny Opal’s cabin; not many would venture out that way unless they was in need of some of her special healin’ poultices and the like.  Everyone was downright afraid of her, really, but I figure that was more just somethin’ she spread around to keep most people away.  She enjoyed her privacy, and just tolerated me for a short spell, I reckon.  Still, she weren’t unpleasant or mean, was a good teacher, and was mostly patient with me.  I’d ride Asher down through the hills a good ways to town ever so often to pick up a few supplies that weren’t traded to Granny by her occasional visitors, and I’d pick myself up a rifle for huntin’ and such after a fair bit of tradin’. 

Granny thought I was a might touched in the head when I came back with that gun, since everything we could ever need we could work through magic in some way or another, but I just didn’t feel right not havin’ one.  Sure, I could fling rocks or manage a spurt of fire, or somethin’ else like that by then, but I don’t reckon that’d go over well outside her little holler.  Folk just weren’t gonna accept that sort of thing in the modern world.  Might actually be why magic started to fade, I guess; people just stopped believen’ in it.  I didn’t plan on stickin’ around forever, and she didn’t expect me to either.  So, I’d start playin’ around on my own, and as I’d learn, I could do some right fancy tricks when I combined my magic with my shootin’.