A Green Witches Guide

Chapter 1

The Cottage in the Woods

Liora Fernwood had always felt that trees were better company than people.

It wasn't that she disliked people.

People simply talked too much.

Trees didn't.

They stood quietly beneath the sky, their branches moving with the wind, their roots buried deep within the earth. They never demanded explanations. They never asked why Liora preferred wandering through forests to attending crowded parties.

They simply existed.

And somehow, that made Liora feel less alone.

She had spent most of her twenty-seven years living in a small town where everyone knew everyone else's business. Her neighbors thought she was strange because she grew herbs on her windowsill, talked to birds, collected fallen leaves, and occasionally disappeared into the woods for an entire afternoon.

Her grandmother had understood.

"Nature doesn't care if you're strange," her grandmother used to say. "That's one of the reasons I like it."

Liora smiled whenever she remembered those words.

Especially now.

Because she was standing in front of her grandmother's old cottage.

It had been nearly a year since her grandmother had passed away.

Liora had avoided coming here.

Not because she didn't want the cottage.

Because she wasn't sure she was ready.

The little house stood in a clearing surrounded by enormous oak trees. Moss covered parts of the stone foundation, while ivy curled around the wooden porch railing.

A crooked chimney rose from the roof.

Several flower boxes hung beneath the windows.

Most were empty.

But not all.

One stubborn little plant with purple flowers had somehow survived.

Liora stepped through the rusty gate.

"Hello, old friend."

The cottage creaked.

Liora stopped.

She stared at the house.

Then she laughed.

"Don't start."

Another creak came from somewhere inside.

"Seriously?"

The wind moved through the trees.

Leaves whispered overhead.

Liora smiled.

"Okay. Maybe I missed you too."

She climbed the porch steps and pulled the old key from her pocket.

The lock clicked.

The door opened.

A familiar smell greeted her.

Wood.

Dust.

Dried herbs.

And something else.

Something she couldn't quite identify.

Liora stepped inside.

Sunlight streamed through the dusty windows, illuminating tiny particles floating through the air.

Everything looked exactly as she remembered.

The old wooden table.

The stone fireplace.

Her grandmother's rocking chair.

The shelves filled with jars, books, dried flowers, candles, and strange little objects collected over decades.

Liora slowly walked through the room.

Her fingers brushed across the back of the rocking chair.

"You really left everything."

Her voice trembled.

For a moment, she simply stood there.

Then she noticed something on the kitchen table.

A small envelope.

Her name was written across the front.

LIORA

Her heart skipped.

She picked it up.

The handwriting was unmistakable.

Her grandmother's.

Liora sat down.

For several seconds, she simply stared at the envelope.

Then she opened it.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

My dear Liora,

If you're reading this, then you've finally come home.

Liora swallowed.

She continued.

I know you may be wondering why I left you this cottage.

The truth is, I always knew you would eventually find your way here.

You have always heard things other people couldn't.

The birds.

The wind.

The rain.

Even the quiet.

That isn't a weakness.

It's a gift.

Liora looked toward the window.

Outside, a blue jay sat on the porch railing.

It tilted its head.

Watching her.

She looked back at the letter.

There is something I want you to understand.

Nature isn't something to be controlled.

It isn't something to be conquered.

And it certainly isn't something to be used simply because you have the ability to use it.

Nature is a relationship.

If you listen, it will teach you.

If you respect it, it will welcome you.

And if you care for it, it will care for you in ways you cannot yet imagine.

Liora's eyes began to sting.

At the bottom of the page was one final sentence.

The first lesson is waiting for you.

She frowned.

"The first lesson?"

The blue jay outside chirped.

Liora looked at it.

"Do you know something I don't?"

The bird chirped again.

Then it flew away.

Liora laughed softly.

"Thought so."

She folded the letter and placed it carefully on the table.

Then she noticed something else.

A faint green glow was coming from beneath the old wooden floorboards.

Liora stared.

The glow disappeared.

She blinked.

Nothing.

"Okay."

She stood.

"Either I'm exhausted..."

She looked around.

"...or Grandma really did leave me something magical."

A breeze moved through the room.

The herbs hanging from the ceiling rustled.

One dried bundle suddenly fell.

Liora caught it.

She looked down.

It was rosemary.

Tied around the bundle was a tiny green ribbon.

And attached to the ribbon was a note.

Liora unfolded it.

Three words were written there.

Listen before acting.

She smiled.

"All right, Grandma."

She tucked the note into her pocket.

Then she walked toward the back door.

Beyond it was the garden.

And beyond the garden was the forest.

Liora opened the door.

The morning sunlight spilled across the grass.

Birds sang from the branches.

Bees moved lazily among the wildflowers.

Somewhere in the distance, water trickled over stones.

Liora stepped outside.

For the first time in almost a year, she felt completely at peace.

She closed her eyes.

And listened.

At first, she heard nothing unusual.

Just birds.

Leaves.

Wind.

Water.

Then...

Something beneath all of it.

A rhythm.

Soft.

Slow.

Almost like breathing.

Liora opened her eyes.

The trees were perfectly still.

Every single one.

Except for one.

An enormous oak stood at the edge of the garden.

Its branches moved gently despite the fact that there was no wind.

Liora stared at it.

The tree seemed to be waiting.

Waiting for her.

She took one step toward it.

Then another.

And for the first time, Liora wondered whether her grandmother's greatest secret had never been inside the cottage at all.

Maybe it had been waiting outside.

Among the trees.

Waiting for someone willing to listen.

And somewhere beneath the roots of the ancient oak, something stirred.