Trinity the last White Witch - Chapter 20

“No, that one. I want that one.” I jabbed my mitten-covered fingers on the biggest snow fruit. Trees that grew these sweet fruits during winter.

“This?” the boy with silver hair tried to reach the fruit with his little arm. When he couldn’t, he climbed higher.

“Yes! That’s the one!” I giggled. But my heart fell faster than my smile when the boy slipped and fell from the tree.

“!” I called, but his name was blurred, drowned with my worry. “Are you okay?”

It was a good thing that the thick snow cushioned his fall, but the back of my eyes still heated when he groaned in pain.

“Did you break a bone?” I was worried that he did, which would surely get me in trouble with my parents.

He opened his eyes, and his silver orbs that never failed to amaze me captured my gaze.

He patted my head in a gentle stroke, and it would have comforted me if only his face weren’t paralyzed like a statue.

“I’m fine. Werewolves are strong.”

He said his favorite line whenever he was hurt. Either he was hurt with my demands or the numerous potions and spells I tried on him. He never once complained.

My eyes watered, and my chin crumpled.

He gave a soft laugh, and the hard lines of his face softened. He caressed my face and said with a voice so gentle enough to tickle me into a smile.

“Your irises are like snowflakes encased in diamonds. They’re very pretty.”

“I like your eyes too,” I said and held his arms while I rubbed my cheek against his palms. “They’re like the two silver moons.”

“Trinity.”

“Trinity!”

My eyes burst open just in time that my door swung so fast, it hit the wall with a loud bang and vomited Madam Bertud’s face with a homemade mask enough to scare my soul back into my body.

“You lazy bum! Get up! It’s your turn to prepare breakfast! And it’s already four in the morning!”

I was in a groggy state, but the old hag’s voice was enough to slap me awake.

Madam Bertud kept nagging and let out a sneer at the end of her sentence before she slammed the door shut.

“. . .”

I really needed to put a lock on my door one of these days. I thought and brushed my hands over my face.

And then I realized what had happened. A bit disoriented, I shifted my eyes in my surroundings. I was supposed to be in the forest with those thugs, and now I found myself inside my room.

How did that happen?

Did that man save me and bring me here? How in the world did he know where I lived?

A chill rose in my spine. He’s a werewolf. Following my scent was a walk in the woods for him.

But this also ironed my belief that I indeed knew him. You won’t save a complete stranger out of nowhere, especially if you’re a werewolf. Even though I changed my appearance, I couldn’t change my scent.

That stranger and his strange behavior of saving me and the recurring dream of a boy I’d forgotten the name . . . this ironed my belief that he was indeed my forgotten childhood friend.

I wonder why I was only remembering him now. In my past life, I couldn’t even remember fragments of him. And not once did our path cross.

Did my mother do something with my past memories? Or sending me back from time jogged my memories?

“. . .”

I let out a long heavy sigh. As long as he didn’t get in my way.

I didn’t know why I crossed paths with a childhood friend and was bothered by recurring childhood memories, but it didn’t change my goal.

That’s right. My ingredients!

I hurled to my feet and almost stepped on the basket beside my bed. I breathed a sigh of relief when I found my materials safe and sound and not a piece missing.

Now I could start brewing potions! . . . After I was done cooking, that is.

I grumbled under my breath. I stretched my arms and neck. There was a sore spot in my neck, and I felt like a vein was stuck in one of the bones there.

I really wish to meet that man again and know his name, but above all, I really wanted to return the favor for what he did to my neck. Maybe a pouch of Aconite to impede his shapeshifting abilities for a day would do the trick.

I smirked.