The settlement of Jackalope rested on the crest of Hare Mountain. A nearby crater lake collected fresh rainwater for the town. Small farms provided fresh vegetables. The woods provided plenty of wild game to hunt. Life there had been idyllic.
The Jackalope that lay ahead of Walker Sheridan was a cursed village. It had lured her best friend, Hyacinth Tanner, into it. Walker was determined to bring her back out. She walked through the open portal armed with information and a backup plan. Her first task was to locate Hyacinth and send her home through the portal, assuming that the girl was still alive. Walker hoped that the sight of her mother on the other side of the portal would draw her through. She knew Hyacinth well enough to know where to begin searching for her. Hyacinth had always been fascinated by flames.
The village had a small foundry and blacksmith shop. Walker set off down the road toward the stone structure, briefly hitching a ride on a passing wagon. The blacksmith, Eldwin, was busy hammering out a square edged spade when she arrived. She watched him work the iron, putting the spade-head back into the fire between hammerings. When he stopped to cool the piece in the bucket of cold water, she stepped forward and introduced herself as Willow, a nickname that Hyacinth had given her. When asked about Hyacinth, the blacksmith had no recollection of ever having seen her. Walker extended her hand to shake his hand and confirm his honestly. Eldwin recommended the local tavern as a good place to look. Perhaps her friend had taken up employment there as a waitress or barmaid. Walker smiled and thanked him for his help.
The tavern in question was the Stag and Peacock. The building had two large fireplaces at either end of the long three-story building. Above the tavern were rooms to let. A large stable stood nearby. The heavy oak door stood open and the clink of metal cutlery on metal plates and bowls accompanied the roar of loud conversations from inside the tavern. Walker entered unnoticed by the crowd of diners and wended her way toward the kitchen.
It had been a long time since Willow had entered that kitchen. The aroma of fresh bread wafted from the ovens. Several cauldrons of soups and stews bubbled over the wood fires while waitresses bussed terrines of fresh soups and platters of fresh bread rolls out to the tables. An old gray-haired woman sat at the kitchen table cutting vegetables, brought in fresh from the gardens behind the tavern by young boys who kissed her cheeks before helping themselves to some stew. Willow placed her hand on the old woman’s shoulder. “Mama,” she murmured. “I’m home.”
The old woman turned to face Walker. She scowled, “you’re not my daughter. She died when she burned down the old house. I’ll not be fooled by some hag.”
Walker, angered by the old woman’s comments, swept the vegetables off the table. A circle of ice started to form where she stood in front of the old woman. Walker smiled. “I’ll help you, if you will help me. I need to find someone.” Walker stepped forward. “She is a friend of mine. She was a child when she came here. I’m here to take her home.”
“But I don’t want to leave. I like it here,” the old woman protested.
“Crobert is waiting for you. He never gave up hope. Your mother is there with him,” Walker pleaded. “She misses you, they both do. I miss you. Please come home.” “This is my home now. Go back to that other place. You don’t belong here anymore. They burn witches here, but you are safe in that other place. Run away while you still can. There’s no room for a hag in Jackalope.”
An Off-Kilter Mind 