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The Witch's Cookbook

The swamps of the Haunted Woods glow a fantastic golden green when the afternoon sun penetrates the canopy. Instead of the menace the fogs take on at other times of the day, in the afternoons all burn away, and the surface of the water takes on an emerald gleam.

by brilliantgrey
 
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"The Witch's Cookbook" by brilliantgrey
The swamps of the Haunted Woods glow a fantastic golden green when the afternoon sun penetrates the canopy. Instead of the menace the fogs take on at other times of the day, in the afternoons all burn away, and the surface of the water takes on an emerald gleam. Draphlies skate across the surface of the glossy bogs, herds of Tralbaks creep from their hidden bushes to drink, and strange, feral vines unfold their leaves to drink in the light. At the heart lies a tiny building that appears to have grown from the earth itself, nestled in the roots of a gargantuan swamp tree. The untended, rickety bridge over the swamp is littered with warning signs varying between the threatening and absurd. "GO NO FURTHER." "NO TRESPASSING." "A GREAT BEAST AWAITS YOUR DELICIOUS AND FOOLISH ARRIVAL." The little speckled Aisha bounces up the steps, arms full of ingredients. A strip of bottled spices belted to her waist clank hard against her hip, but in her excitement she ignores the small bruise starting to form. She reaches the door at the top of the (considerable) staircase and begins loudly banging on it. "Hello, I'm here!" she shouts at the door.




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