A Spell? An Illusion?

Looking the witch in the eyes, Ava stared for a moment, trying to gauge what the witch was thinking before giving up, wringing a finger in her hair and twirling it slightly, she said. "If you can get it black or brown. I'll think bout it."

After all, she wanted less eyes on her, not more. A green was out of the question, but a softer brown to mask her golden hair might help her dodge some unpleasant eyes.

Letting out a slightly disappointed look, the witch nodded in agreement before chippering up yet again.

Clapping her hands together, she tilted her head to the side and smiled, "So, let's get to the fun part. The wish. Come over here dear."

Stepping by the table, the witch made her way over to the conspicuous cauldron at the side of the room, directly waving her hands and throwing in a dozen ingredients as she did so.

Some were simply nearby, and the witch pushed them in, while others sat on high shelves, and seemingly grown hands and feet uncorked themselves before dipping their head over, letting out their contents, creating an oddly harmonious scene of color.

Following over, Ava stood by the cauldron, unsure of what to do, or where to place her hands.

Pressing down on Ava's shoulder, the witch helped Ava into a sitting position on a small stool on the far end of the cauldron, before finding herself a seat on the opposite side.

After the witch threw in one last item, Ava watched as the contents of the cauldron started to bubble, letting out copious amounts of steam as it did so, hazing up the view to the point that she couldn't clearly see the witch who was sitting just a few feet away on the opposite side.

From the other side of the spoke, the witch spoke up, "Alright dear, before we get into what you're here for, why don't you show me your story."

Nodding, Ava spoke up, "My name is Abigale Go-"

"No, no, no." The witch cut in, a slight smirk lightly visible through the fog. "I said show me, not tell me. I've long since grown bored of petty tales, so I devised a more interesting way to see a story. It helps guaranty the authenticity too, you wouldn't believe the number of liars who came about in the last century. Really, you'd think if you bothered going through all the effort to get here, you'd at least experience something in your life first. Ah, I've gotten off track, just bite your thumb and drip a drop of blood into the cauldron, you'll see what I mean."

After a second of hesitation, Ava did as she was told, bringing her thumb up to her mouth and giving it a rather ruthless chomp. Luckily, with the hardiness of her skin, in the end only a small wound was left. Lifting her thumb over the cauldron, she lightly squeezed her thumb with her opposite hand and watched as a small droplet oozed out before retracting her hand and lightly sucking on her thumb to help seal the wound.

As the droplet of blood plopped into the boiling water, the cauldron seemed to come to a sudden calm, as the surface became still with the exception of a small ripple emanating from where the droplet had landed.

A moment later, as the ripples reached the edges of the cauldron before disappearing, the cauldron began bubbling again, with renewed ferocity, to the point that Ava worried that the contents would bubble out the sides.

Once more, the steam rose up, forming a thick screen in the air. The myriad colors from when the witch had poured in ingredients seemed to have returned, as the steam glistened in multicolored light, oddly reminiscent of the witch's hair.

Vaguely, images started to form, becoming clearer by the second. Curious, Ava peered into the smoke and was surprised to find a familiar location, "Shattered Creek Village?"

The edges of the smoke started to blur, and various scenes began to replay. Various scenes that she remembered, and didn't remember started to come on show before her. Starting from when Ava was a young girl, no taller then a knee, and skinner then a bean, she had lost the comfort of a family. Unfortunately, although the steam went far back and showed her when she was no more then five, it didn't go far back enough for her to see, much less remember the faces of the people who had once abandoned her.

Instead, it started from a moment she could barley recall, perhaps when she was no older then six, making her way through town sneakily eating leftovers. In the replay, Ava was able to see how the baker had especially made a new loaf of bread just to put it out back in the trash, while the fishmonger especially poured an acrid solution over his waste. Seeing this, Ava couldn't help but shake her head. Finding the fishmonger's actions pointless. It wasn't like she was going to steal raw fish that was old enough to be thrown in the trash. Although she had to make do, she had always intuitively known what she could and couldn't eat, and had managed to get by this rocky period of her life without getting too sick.

Pushing forward, the image blurred again, this time revealing Ava at a slightly older age. Although she had grown a few inches, her limbs were still spindly, and revealed an apparent weakness. Unfortunately, by this time the baker and his family had long since moved away, for a reason that Ava couldn't recall, and the steam did not display.

Thus, without the daily loaf of bread in the trash, Ava couldn't help but find herself hungrier by the day, especially in this period of youth where she needed nutrition more then ever. Every day she would make her rounds around the village, looking for food she could eat, while also doing odd jobs for bits of coin. On a good day, she might even be able to afford a meal, but in the end, it was never quite enough.

And so she turned to pickpocketing.