Raven shrugged. “I don’t know. Please. Help me find this witch.”
Micah urged him outside, pointing up the coast. “Walk for a day in that direction. When you come to the black water, you’ll know you’re close. She lives nearby. Don’t worry about finding her. When you get close enough, she’ll find you.”
Raven shuddered, not liking the sound of that at all. “Is there any defense?”
“Cold steel and a steady hand.”
“I have both,” Raven declared. He retrieved his sword, belting it on. Filling his pack with food and fresh water, he bid farewell. “If I live, I’ll be back.”
“And if you don’t come back, don’t expect us to come looking,” Micah grumbled. “No one lives that she doesn’t want to. Better hope she likes you.”
Raven flashed a toothy, white smile, his blue eyes sparkled in his tanned face. Black hair wisped around his square jawed face. “Oh, she’ll like me. Not a woman alive as hasn’t.” Winking, he set off with a cocky swagger.
“Man’s dead where he stands,” Micah declared as he watched Raven walk away.
“Don’t be so sure. He killed a werewolf. If anyone can take on the Witch of Black Cove, it’s Raven Willoughby.”
© 2017 Dellani Oakes