All Jozin wanted six months ago was to leave Skapina but now that he saw her, the snow capped towers rising over the mountains, the chill in the air and the swaying of the trees, he had to admit he missed home. It was the warmth of the caverns underneath the fortress, for Skapina wasn't just a fortress, most of it lay buried underneath. Under the cold stones was a bustling city, and it was a warm city, for dragons forged it, and a dragon's heart laid somewhere within Skapina.

At least, that's what the witches told him. He even missed the witches, even though they were a crotchety bunch. They had words for what they wanted him to do, how he should go about doing magic. No, more like, who and what he should do. Baba Zvetla had her say on how he should speak to the ravens, and Baba Zdena had her say on how he should feel for the hidden things under the earth. What hidden things, he didn't know, because Baba Zvetla had then sent her flock of ravens, cawing angrily, after Baba Zdena and the other had shouted and flung dirt at her fellow witch before leaving in an angry huff.

'What is wrong with them?' he had whispered to his mother, tugging at the hem of her tunic.

She'd simply shaken her head and said that this was the way of things for the particular witches. 'They are just concerned about being replaced. The new witches would all be naming themselves soon and they are of the opinion that the new names do not go with the pattern they have cultivated.'

'What do I have to do with all of it?'

'They'd like you to take on a name like… like Zina.' She had given him a look that said she agreed it was a rather foolish idea.

'I am not a Zina,' Jozin had scoffed.

'No, you are not,' she agreed.

Witches had a fondness for names he knew. But that was all he knew about it because he was not a naming witch, those witches were few and far in between. Baba Zvetla had told him that naming witches became so wrapped up in their own work that they bury themselves in the parchment of great names they've come up with and never talk to normal people. Which was why when one wanted to find a naming witch all one had to do was set her pile of parchment on fire, thus getting her attention. Baba Zvetla and her ravens had then cackled, and Jozin had decided the truth was somewhere in between. Certainly there was some magic to it, some magic that was passed down, for his mother was Mira and her witch teacher's name was Misia. This was why she'd now taken on a new apprentice called Milla.

Milla was a nice girl, with auburn hair she kept tied in two ribbons and a sunny smile. Finding her was part of the reason why they left Skapina in the first place, his mother thought that a change in scenery, and a nice trip would, as she put it, 'do him well'. It convinced his father at least, he hadn't been fond of the idea of the two leaving, especially Jozin.

'You are too nice,' his father had told him, shaking his head. 'These Icfeldians, they don't live in the cold but there's just something about them.'

'I'll keep him company!' Surio had declared then.

Surio did keep his word, but it was difficult at times. He was nice, Surio, Jozin appreciated his friend sharing the sweets he found and the little nooks and crannies that one can watch the Icfeldians and marvel at how odd their lives were without the magic that one normally could do. But he could be like a heavy blanket, comforting at times, but suffocating at others. He was suspicious of everyone, and Jozin knew the word, because some of the witches in Skapina acted the same when they first arrived.

But why would he be? Nikolas was a perfectly good friend, if a bit odd and there was no need to treat him like he was one of the Icfeldians who were… witch hunting. It was good that they found Milla, because that was what the Icfeldians were up to, witch hunting. They were taking witches and turning them into wizards, because wizards did magic just so and they were easily controlled, because all of them thought magic came from books and chanting things while the moon was full or not full.

'And you know who writes these books,' his mother had said grimly to him, and it was one of those tones that he knew he shouldn't repeat what he said to any Icfeldian he met.

Now wasn't the time to mull over Icfeld and its icy queen. Now was the time to turn excitedly to Milla and gesture out towards Skapina.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

"Very… cold," Milla said through clattering teeth.

"Can't you warm yourself with magic?" Surio groused.

"It doesn't work like that!" Milla scoffed and wrapped her cloak firmly around herself. "I'm not a wizard, what, do you think I just snap a finger and flames appear?"

"I've seen Baba Fiane do it," said Surio.

"That's different, that's žarina magic, of course they can do it!"

The two of them were constantly at it, thought Jozin, always at each other's throats for some reason he didn't know. He liked Milla, she was always so happy, so excited to talk to him about anything in particular. She was so very good at doing things, even better than he was at times, and on the many evenings that it took for them to return to Skapina he sat and watched as she shaped a bow from a tree branch.

"I'll show you where all the witches are," Jozin said, "And maybe you'll find someone who can teach you the snapping fingers, I'm sure there must be a žarina in Skapina, why else would it be so warm?"

He barely waited for the wagon to halt inside the fortress before he was off, hand in hand with Surio and Milla. He could hear Valdi shouting after him, no doubt telling him he should greet his father first, but his mother was home and he knew the two of them wanted to talk with each other after they'd been apart. They wanted privacy, and he'll give it to them.

"Come on, follow me!"

The winding passageways of Skapina assembled and reassembled themselves as he pointed and he could feel it, the warmth, the beating heart and the life emulating from every stone crevice. As they rounded the corner he could hear it as well, the chatter and cacophony, the sounds of Skapinians. Then he smelled it, an earthly smell, like the soil after rain, the purple kanjas that were Skapina's lifeblood.

"Oh my," Milla said in awe, mouth open wide as she stared upwards at the ceiling which twinkled in purple from the glowing kanjas.

To harvest them one needed either a tall ladder, many helpful ravens, or the ability to fly. Sometimes Jozin had seen a more creative witch go about harvesting the kanjas but most just pay Baba Zvetla to do it for them.

"They're not stars you fool," said Surio. "Are we done? We should go back Jozin?"

"Hey, I wanted to show Milla Skapina!" Jozin said irritably, pulling away from Surio to grin widely at Milla, "What do you think?"

"It's so beautiful!" she clapped her hands delightedly.

"I'll show you something better," he promised, and took her hand.

Surio scowled and pulled Jozin the other way, knocking the three of them into a witch. The basket came tumbling from the witch's hands, spilling the purple glimmers on the ground.

"Sorry miss!" Jozin had rushed to apologize, trying to gather the mushrooms into her basket. Surio and Milla were quick to follow his example, no child wanted to anger a witch.

"Well, aren't thou a kind soul," said the witch, adjusting her hat. She spoke in a strangely accented tongue, her almond shaped eyes and jet black hair standing out among the witches he'd seen in Skapina.

Her robes, to Jozin's eyes, looked like a patchwork of different materials, all stitched together in a glowing script. It was probably why she was underground, if she'd been outside she'd probably freeze.

"We're sorry," said Jozin with Surio and Milla echoing him, "We didn't mean to drop your mushrooms."

The witch stared at them, then gave a soft laugh, "T's not ev'ry day one sees a young witch, and a polite one too," she smiled, showing black teeth, "Wouldst thou and thy cater-cousins liketh thy f'rtunes toldeth?"

He didn't understand why she stressed the word witch, but perhaps she was a foreign witch and wherever she came from they had a different word. Such were things, sometimes a witch in one place was called something else in another place. He turned to Surio, and half expected him to frown at this offer. But to Jozin's surprise Surio nodded excitedly.

"Yes, please," said Milla, breathlessly, starry-eyed.

"Cometh this way," said the witch, leading them to an alley that was designated for the foreign witches whenever they visited. It was designated because depending on the region in question the witches would alter the alley to suit their tastes.

It smelled strange the witches' alley, oddly colored smoke would sometimes drift from the alley, and odd shrieks and chitters would be heard from time to time. The tents and caravans from what they could see of the alleyway looked more intimidating than welcoming. The three of them hesitated at the entrance, and the witch seemed to realized this because she smiled, "W'rry not, thou wonneth't stepeth in far."

She motioned them towards a tent only three steps away, and pulling up the flap, disappeared in it.

"I'm going to go," Surio said, determinedly, following her.

Milla grabbed Jozin's hand and squeezed it, "Come on, Jozin, I want to hear my for-tune!"

Inside the witch's tent was an assortment of plants, weapons and a handful of cages holding strange animals. One Jozin thought was a snake, though he'd never seen one with such colorful scales.

"Come, come," said the witch, motioning them to sit on three cushions in the tent.

She took up a seat opposite of them, looking at them expectantly.

"Well, shouldst the eldest wend first?" she said.

"I am." said Surio.

"I seeth," said the witch, turning her eyes on him. "Thou wilt excuse me f'r not giving a f'rtune which rhymes. I wast toldeth by mine own sist'rs h're people liketh f'rtune which rhymeth, but I wilt confesseth I am not fluent in this tongue to doth so."

The witch paused, closing her eyes, and humming. Her palms were outstretched, and she made a series of signs in front of Surio's face. When her eyes opened, they were no longer brown, but a very pale blue.

"One questioneth thou may asketh of me, and one questioneth I shall answ'r," she said.

Surio nodded, gulping visibly, "Would I be a great warrior?" he said.

"A most wondrous arch'r thou shall beest, nay targeteth thou shall misseth, yet thy hair shall nev'r grizzled, and thy boweth nev'r breaketh."

The witch turned to Milla, "And what of thee sweet daught'r? What wouldst thou asketh?"

Milla looked troubled, but smiled bravely and asked, "Would I live in a big house when I grow up?"

"A most wondrous house thou shall beest, and through glass stairs thou shall walketh to receiveth th're." said the witch.

The pale blue eyes turned to him then, "What of thou then? What would thou asketh?"

What did he want to ask of a witch? There was always a catch to a witch's fortune, every child knew, which was why both Milla and Surio didn't ask for more details than necessary. Though the fortune, as simple as they'd asked, had answers with both joy and sorrow. He bit his lip.

"Would you care to dine in my halls?" he asked.

At this question, the witch blinked. Her eyes, which were pale blue, suddenly switched to its dark brown. She stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head in what Jozin thought was bemusement.

"Well," the witch said, "well, I would bethink thou art too young to beest a host." There was a pause, "may I taketh up thy invitation another evening? Thou would knoweth me," the witch leaned forwards, brushing her lips against his ear, "Mine own sisters calleth me Hana."

Hana smiled, sitting back on her cushion, "T'wast a pleasure meeting thee."

A great mist circled them, and when Jozin opened his eyes, all three of them were above ground, facing the door to Jozin's house.

"That was very odd." said Surio, "Witches. I never understood them."