Northern_Lights_2019

25 A Will to Fight By Dallas Johnson “You are a disgrace to the wiccan community!” he yelled at me from the center of the table in front of me, full of natural old wood you couldn’t find anywhere on sale this century. “You don’t know what it means to be wiccan! You are too naive to have magic, too naive to be let out into the world.” I just stared at him. Mouth open and eyes wide, sitting in the chair they put me in when they forcibly brought me into the room. How could he yell at me like this? I didn’t even do anything bad this time. “What did I do? I don’t remember using magic as something bad! Or doing anything to anyone outside of the wiccan community, or even inside the barriers, if you don’t count my training sessions,” I cried out to him standing from my chair and taking a step towards the table to defend myself. “Tell me what I have done so wrong this time to warrant your wrath!” The others around him all looked to see what his reaction would be. I’m scared. What would I do without the wiccan beside me, guiding me? They took me in, helped me when no one else would. “You have disgraced us in the community. First that poor innocent girl in the bathroom. Then the elderly woman in the bookstore. And now you have made enemies on the street,” he said to me with the straightest face I have ever seen. “A human gang has heard of your powers and are looking to take you in, make you one of their weapons. And with your track record, it seems like only a matter of time before you go willingly.” His expression morphed into disdain, stone cold like the walls behind and around him, filled with nothing but green envy like the moss littering the very same walls. “What? How would they know anything about my magic? I haven’t practiced magic outside of my apartment in the outside world in months! I have been nothing but good and loyal for months! And now you accuse me of betraying you for a simple human gang?” How could they do this to me? I have been good! I have followed every rule, every flick of the wrist that they sent towards me. I haven’t even badmouthed a person in months for them. I have proven my loyalties to this community! And now they are trying to get rid of me. Just like everyone else. “We have not forgotten about your new loyalties to the community. Yes, you have been better but . . .” He was cut off by another council member. “You have done so well these past few months, dear,” she said. “But we still cannot completely trust you not to run.” She gave me one of the most sympathetic smiles I’ve seen. Like a grandmother watching your dreams fall apart, so she bakes you cookies to help, only, just like right now, nothing can help dampen the amount of hurt coming at you like a knife to the heart. “You did run after we first approached you,” said a man on the end. “And you tried to kill one of the wiccan members we sent after you,” said another man next to the first. Both old and grey, but clearly not willing to let age stop them from proving their strength. “But we forget! She was a young girl with no family! Alone and hurt, emotionally and physically. Why would she trust a few strangers who tell her she is wiccan, then let them take her to a place where she could have been killed?” the first woman defended me. “And who in their right mind would not fight a few strange people following them and trying to basically kidnap them? I certainly would have,” said another woman, staring down the men across from her and making them sink down into their chairs. “Thank you,” I said to the two women who were defending me, bowing my head to show respect and gratitude. “I would like to state that the two incidents regarding humans that were mentioned, they were months ago, and I was still new to the wiccan idea. And running from strangers who wanted me for my body, whether it was true or not at the time was irrelevant to me, was ninety percent of my life, before and after I was dumped onto the street. After I came around to the idea, and after I calmed down with the magic, I have been nothing short of exemplary