[ WP ] Then suddenly the steel felt so cold in my hands

I remember a story I used to be told as a child. 
 
 It was usually told to me by my father in the cold winter months when there was little else to do but tell tales by the hearth. We'd gather round and he'd go on to speak of the dark Mire Witches of the west. How he'd weave a fine and horrifying story of their black magic. How they'd eat goats and use bones to put hexes on whole towns. And most of all, he'd whisper, steal children. 
 
 The story seems to have underplayed it a bit. 
 
 `` Reynault,'' Hobbs called in a hushed voice, snapping me back to reality. 
 
 `` Oh,'' I stammered, not realizing I'd been daydreaming, `` sorry.'' 
 
 `` Keep yer wits,'' He whispered, looking around slowly, `` one of these grimy bitches'll get you, otherwise. Keep yer eyes on the trees too. They look like the branches sometimes.'' 
 
 I nodded in response, raising my long sword a bit. 
 
 I liked Hobbs. He was n't the most personable of fellows, but he knew his trade and he cared about doing a thorough job. For what it's worth, if I had to choose only one person to do this with it'd be him. However, I would not want to choose only *one* person. But that was the situation at hand. 
 
 A week ago the fort I was stationed at received a letter from a very, very small village. The letter stated that for a score of nights children had been going missing and that they believed something lived in the mire and was stealing the children in the night. 
 
 This was not deeply uncommon, as it was usually just as like that the children would wander off and drown in mud as it was for some fae or devil to sneak in and snatch them from their cradle. But I am a knight, and in fact was the only proper knight at the fort, so it was considered my duty to handle such a matter. 
 
 I assembled my entourage: Hobbs, my veteran man-at-arms, Silas, my strapping squire, and Alfie, my portly physician and apothecary. Once equipped we set off south and west for the village. After a few days time we arrived to the village finding half of them dead and the other half dying. They'd been plagued by a curse the likes I had not seen before. Hobbs knew what it was, having learned of spirits and darker magics than I in the stacks of Jerusalem. 
 
 After Hobbs showed him how to make a poultice that would slow their ailment and ease their pain we left Alfie to tend to the villagers who still drew breath and Silas to guard him. Had any of those villagers been strong enough to stand without spitting bile or shitting their trousers I would've taken Silas as well. But none could and Alfie is a paunchy fellow and certainly could not hold off a crippled goat much less a mire witch, so Silas stayed. 
 
 And now we crept, Hobbs and I, through the murk and shadow of the mire, looking for the child eaters. 
 
 `` Hobbs.'' I called out, quietly as I could. 
 
 `` What?'' He responded, equally as quiet though slightly more irritated. 
 
 `` What if there are no children left alive?'' 
 
 He snorted and adjusted his padded coif, `` Of course none of them are alive. But we can still put the fuckin' baby eaters to the mud.'' 
 
 I felt a bit of will drain from me. I knew that none of them were alive since I got the letter, but most of the reason I took hunts like this was to help people. To save them. Preventing death was still preserving life, but it did not feel like saving it. 
 
 Hobbs stopped, stood still, motioned that I do the same, and peered intently into the brush ahead. 
 
 He pointed with his crossbow, `` Look at that. I think we're close.'' 
 
 I stared towards the weeds in question and saw what he was referring to. They were dead. Not only that but as I looked past them I saw that many plants were shriveled and dead. It reminded me very much of an ivy, constricting a small tree'til the life was squeezed out of it. 
 
 I took a few steps forward, my mail shirt jingling softly in the silence of the dreary woods. When suddenly my sword was like ice. I gripped it tight in both hands, bringing it to the ready. It felt so very cold in my hands, the chill of it ran down my arms and through my chest. 
 
 I spun about scanning my surroundings and Hobbs did the same. I saw frost running along the surface of the muddy water and over the now wilting foliage and trees. I did n't even notice the lack of insects'til now. The silence was suffocating. 
 
 `` Fuckin' come out, you bitch.'' Hobbs muttered through gritted teeth. 
 
 I un-slung my shield and gripped it in my left hand. Hobbs and I were practically back to back now, rotating slowly, eyes never resting on one spot. But then I saw her, emerging slowly from the water. She did look like wood. She was nude, her skin rough, mottled, and leathery. All that I could make out of her face was a pair of yellow eyes peering out from a mess of grey-green mattes and grime that was her hair. And out of the hair poked a pair of antlers atop the crown of her head. 
 
 The moment she'd risen from the water she glided across it at me. I cried out, ran forward, and swung at her with my blade, arms stiff with chill and fear. She slid out of the way, dodging my attack like I meant to swingat the air instead of her. 
 
 Hobbs had pivoted and leveled his crossbow at her, leading and firing where she was about to be. The bolt struck, grazing her along the ribs. She screamed and waved a hand at him. He, in turn, screamed as well and I saw ribbons of blood fly from his face. 
 
 I made up the distance between myself and the witch and tried to catch her under the chin with the point of my sword, but she turned and struck my blade aside with a gnarled, clawed hand. She spat at me and I raised my shield to block it. The spit ate through the leather and wood of my chevron like it was nothing'til I sizzling against my gloved hand. 
 
 I staggered back, tossing my now useless shield to the ground and tugging the glove off after it. Hobbs had regained himself and had knocked another bolt which he now put into her right thigh. She screamed again and sped towards him, black blood stream from her wounds. I made chase and he pulled a hatchet from his belt to defend himself. 
 
 She clawed at him, wailing all the while and he parried he blows best he could. A few slipped by his guard, catching him along the forearms and chest leaving long red wrents. No focus on me though. I put the tip of my blade up and through the center of her back between her shoulder blades. It came out of her chest just above Hobbs' face. I twisted my blade and with a great heave lifted her from the ground as she flailed to get free. Hobbs then hacked at her limbs with the hatchet, freeing each hand and leg from their respective trunk. 
 
 Eventually she stopped flailing. 
 
 I removed her ragged head from her shoulders and we burnt the rest in a relatively dry part of the mire. We searched for a few more hours for the hole she'd crawled out of, but found little save for some bones. 
 
 When we left the village all who still lived were cured and healthy, though hollow to be true. 
 
 I stung and throbbed all the way back to the fort. But most of all I felt the chill I'd felt when first she'd crept upon us. 
 
 I do not believe that any hearth I'd ever feel would save me from the chill. 
 
 
 
 

