It was an unusually silent night. I sat by my stove, stirring my dinner when I heard shouting outside my cottage. I dropped the spoon and ran to the door, my heart beating in my ears. Who was it? And at this time? My hand trembled as it reached out and opened the door. A small girl stood in front of me, her face lit by the lamps in my hut. Her eyes were wide and her face was smeared with blood. The blood was streaked with her tears. I looked up when I heard more shouting.

I quickly pulled her in and closed the door as an angry mob emerged from the trees surrounding the clearing I stayed in.

I rushed to the kitchen, picked up my weapons, and opened the door. Their flaming torches cast eerie shadows on their twisted faces. Their leader stood in front of me, frowning. He clearly didn’t expect to find a woman with a half-burned face living alone in the forest.

“Where is she?” His followers quietened when he spoke.

“Leave,” My voice was hollow and deep, hiding my quickening pulse.

“Give us the witch!” He shouted, which was followed by cheers from the rest.

“I warn you. This is your last chance,” The wind from the forest blew my open hair all around my face, “Leave.”

He sneered at me with his decayed teeth. I returned the gesture by smiling wildly. His face slacked, just for a second. I brought my left hand in front of my face and blew the spice from my kitchen into his face without wasting a moment. He screamed and took a step back, rubbing his eyes. I began chanting my spells, raising my voice steadily till it reached an unhinged stupor. I cursed him and those who followed him. I could see the fear in his eyes.

“Daayan!” He shouted, “Another daayan!”

A witch. He called me a witch.

I smiled again, keeping my eyes on him as I brought the burning wood from my stove in front of his face. The rest of the mob caught on to what was happening. A few slowly backed off. I dropped my voice for a moment and raised it again, and with it, I blew the rest of the spice into the flame. The flames grew, as did their screams.

I imagine it was a terrifying scene for them: it was eerily dark and they were in the middle of a forest, where they had hoped to hurt a little girl but were met with a woman with wild, open hair, and a sneering face lit by rising flames, not to mention the spells I cast on them. It didn’t take long for them to vanish.

I closed the door, making sure the lock was bolted. The girl was standing in the middle of the room, staring at me. Her frail body was shivering. I gave her a smile.

“Sit,” I gestured to the ground and went to the stove to keep the wood back. I picked up two jars and turned back. She was still standing.

“I’m not a daayan,” I sat in front of her and opened the jars.

“You cursed them,” Her voice was barely audible.

“No, they think I cursed them. I don’t know how to curse anyone.”

She finally sat on the hard earth and continued,

“But the fire, it-”

“When you put the cinnamon powder in fire, it rises.” I slowly reached for her thin arm. When she didn’t pull back, I started applying the salve on the bruises covering her cold skin.

“Really?” Her eyes widened, “That is so cool. But those curses?”

“Anything they don’t understand, they think is a curse.” I reached for her other arm.

“Why do you live here?”

My hand stopped for an instant. I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath, trying to keep the nightmares locked.

“Because everyone thinks I am a daayan,” I concentrated on covering all of her wounds.

“Why?”

I sighed again and swapped the salve with a turmeric paste for the cuts on her face,

“My husband was killed by a drunk driver. My in-laws kicked me out, and my parents took me in,” I paused, “My mother died months after I moved back and no one could tell why. Then my Baba fell sick. They tried helping him but even the city doctors couldn’t do anything.”

I looked at her and found her curious, bright eyes staring into mine.

“And they said you killed them?”

I nodded.

“They tried burning me,” I lowered my hand.

“They say I killed my baby brother. But I didn’t! I never even saw him,” She lowered her eyes, “They didn’t let me.”

“You can stay here,” I smiled, “Both daayans can live together.”

“How do you live alone?” Her eyes didn’t leave my face.

“It’s not as difficult as it seems,” I shrugged, “You get used to it.”

“Who gives you food?”

I laughed, the sound of it surprised me. I hadn’t heard my laugh for so long. I didn’t think I ever would again.

“You have a lot of questions, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Ma used to say that too,” Her shoulders slumped and her eyes lowered. It felt like her light had been dimmed.

“I find my own food,” I said quickly, “From the forest. I grow some vegetables and herbs too.”

When she didn’t say anything, I continued,

“Do you like fish?”

“Oh, I love it!” Her face lit up again.

“We can catch fish together. From the lake. Would you like that?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Yes!” She almost jumped in excitement. I laughed again. A warm feeling filled me, slowly spreading through my body.

“Wait,” She said, “What if they come back?” Her small face scrunched up with worry and fear.

“Oh, they will,” I winked, “But it’s fine. I have more cinnamon powder.”

.    .    .