Religion on the Lips of a Witch Pt. 01

**Author notes: Thank you for reading! Thank you for allowing me to come back after an extended sabbatical! This is based off of the character of Solomon Kane from the movie vs the books. **

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~Thou shall not suffer a witch to live~ Exodus 22:18

The sky was bleak, the sun hidden somewhere behind a solid ceiling of dour looking clouds that sprinkled flakes of snow haphazardly to the sad landscape below. The dark colored horse with its rider wove haphazardly through gaunt, snow crusted trees that could possibly be alive but the chances were iffy at best.

The horse's hooves made faint crunching noises in the meager snowfall as it wandered where it pleased without direction. It leisurely moved from tuft to tuft of long dead grass that poked up through the snow while the slumped over rider didn't bother to correct its behavior, reigns slipping from a slack gloved hand. With a muted thump, the rider slipped from the saddle to land in a heap of black clothes, causing the horse to side step away with a snort and a toss of its head while ears flicked back and forth. Slowly the horse moved off, continuing to graze as it went, leaving behind the crumpled rider whose black clothes slowly frosted over with the continued snowfall.

Reaching down with cold fingers the snare was untangled, the cold stiff rabbit freed, set aside and snare baited once again. All the traps had been tripped when checked today, three for three made for a good haul. The frozen rabbit was tied and slung over a shoulder with the other two. The figure in the heavy brown, heavily patched cloak looked around, adjusting the wool over their face and carefully started to pick their way down a different trail that would lead back home, happy with today's spoils.

In the snow were the signs of faint prints, a curious turn of events on what should have been an uneventful trek back to the cave that was home. Curiosity and unease welled up inside at the thought of someone so close to home. Reaching up, the hood of the heavy worn cloak was pushed back and the wool pushed down to reveal pale skin, dark brown hair and a concerned expression. Honey colored eyes scanned the sparse woods around her as she tried to listen for anything out of place, breath seeping from her lips with frosty puffs that drifted away from her. Dark brows furrowed, squinting against the distance and whiteness of the snow as she caught sight of something interesting.

Cautiously she approached the snow crusted black mound that revealed itself as a person. The horse was gone, having wandered off a while ago when its rider had slid from its back. Crouching down she tentatively reached out a hand and paused, stopped in her tracks. A distinctive black hat that looked familiar to her suddenly clicked in her mind and she yanked her hand away. Puritan.

She stood suddenly, adjusted the rabbits over her shoulder and turned away. A faint groan behind her made her turn back, a wary look cast over the crumpled form at her feet.

"Alive?" Her eyebrows rose slightly as she murmured to herself. Somewhere off in the distance a crow called out and she sighed.

"Fine," She acquiesced in a mutter.

She made short work of using the stranger's own heavy cloak as a makeshift slide with a few knots here and there. Tossing her rabbits on his still body along with his hat she started the process of dragging the nearly dead weight behind her through the snow.

It was a struggle at times, the cloak was now torn and ripped and she was certain that both of them would be a bit sorer tomorrow as she managed to make her way back to the cave she called home.

By the flickering firelight she unwrapped the stranger she'd brought home against her better judgment. She wasn't shy but rather practical as she pulled layers off of the now shivering man, using a sharp knife to cut the lacings rather than take the time to untie them. Eyes widened as the multitudes of scars and brands appeared as more and more of his skin came into view. Reaching out and brushing away the dark stringy hair she peered down into the man's face and noted that gauntness tried to mask the handsome features.

The man on the floor before her was heavily scarred, marked, branded, filthy, shivering, and bleeding. She immediately got to work stoking the fire in the middle of her cave, letting the smoke and embers float up towards a small vent above her head in the cave ceiling. The fire increased the temperature and gave her the light she needed to work. Shedding her cloak she gathered up her blankets and draped them over the shivering form. Moving around her home she gathered herbs and supplies, bringing with her a bowl of water from the natural spring that flowed through the far side of her cave. If he lived long enough she'd have him bathe in it as the minerals helped with healing.

Using the back of her hand she wiped the sweat from her brow, it was getting hot in the cave and yet he still shivered. The bleeding she surmised was from a stab wound that possibly just started to heal before being ripped open again. Reaching out she was about to start her work when she was taken off guard by a surprisingly strong hand flashing out to grip hers almost painfully. Lifting her eyes up, she met his heavily lidded ones, now trained on her.

"Good Sir, you are making a mess on my floor, hurting my hand and I'd like to get to work stitching you up if you please," She said quietly, refusing to look away from his gaze and instead, holding it steady and unflinchingly. The hand loosened and left hers but the eyes stayed alert, giving unspoken consent.

Her lips moved as her fingers worked. It was part song, part chant while she cleaned the cut, sewed it shut and packed herbs over it. The man groaned again, eyes barely opening to regard her through a haze while his teeth chattered loudly.

Sitting back on her heels she tied off the bandage and surveyed her work, mildly pleased. A violent shiver rippled through him so she sighed softly, pressed her lips together with determination started pulling the simple tunic dresses she wore up towards her head and off of her body, dropping them off to the side. Quickly she slipped in under the pile of blankets sucking in a shocked breath as her warm skin met his decidedly more chilled flesh. Carefully she wrapped herself around him as they lay next to the fire; softly she continued to hum the same tune/chant she had earlier knowing the magic in her music would help him heal. She could easily feel his trembles, the ripples of his muscles as they shivered, trying to keep his body warm subconsciously. Faintly she could hear him mumble but was unable to make sense of anything that was said and she slid her hand up over his marred chest to rest gently against his cheek, quieting him. Shifting she pulled the blankets tighter around them both, her leg draped over his as she pressed against him, snuggled under his arm with her own flung back across his chest and resting her head on his shoulder.

Slowly, with her body on one side and the fire on the other, the man stopped shivering and started to breathe deeply as she assumed he slipped into a deep sleep. She stirred to add another few logs onto the fire and felt his grip around her waist tighten reflectively while he shifted in his sleep. Looking down she couldn't help but give a smirk before sinking back down against the man she was keeping warm. Watching the fire dance from across his features she listened to his heart beat and felt the rise and fall of his chest, assured that he was resting well. Absently her fingertips traced over the scars that seemed to cover just about every inch of his body and wondered just what he had been through to be marked so completely.

After some time she gently pried his arm from around her waist and slipped out of the covers, shivering herself before struggling into her under dress and a pair of boots, watching her charge rest easier now. She found herself standing over a naked man that was completely at her mercy, the very same type of man that didn't take to her kind too well.

"Thou shall not suffer a witch to live among us," she whispered as she reached up and ran a tired hand through her hair, smoothing it away from her face with a sigh.

Bending low she tucked the blankets tighter and turned from him, gathering up the rabbits she'd caught earlier. Looking at them then back to the form next to her fire she tilted her head then slowly shook it. No wonder why she'd had good luck with her hunting, the fates knew she'd be having company to care for.