Some learn to melt into the crowd as they grow older, where others never manage to fit fully into the society they were born into yet another few manage to thrive in their role as different, becoming the wise hedgewitch people look to for advice and healing. They carry curses, they say, they are the reason milk sours and the reason children fall ill, with their innate powers and mysterious eyes. Enough so, that in small towns and villages, they often become outsiders. They may look human, act human, but there is just always something just a little bit off. Whispers and rumors often follow in the shadow of a hexling. Nothing the boy could say would change the strange looks and whispers that'd follow his every step as he turned and ran away. For them, it was as good as proof, and he knew, his eyes faltering as he stumbled backwards and murmured an excuse even if he didn't feel they deserved it. They stared back with wide eyes, for the way his voice boomed, the way his eyes glow, it was not natural. They did not know, but he heard their every word.įinally he'd snapped, turning on his heels with eyes burning as he stared at the two women who'd been gossiping. The young boy bit the inside of his cheek and closed his fists so tight they turned white and he felt his nails digging into his palms.
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