46. MORGANA

“Y-you’re the Silver Witch?” Kendra asked in open amazement. The woman standing before her did not look a day over twenty five, and from what the she wolf had heard, the Silver witch was more than two centuries old.

“Indeed I am,”

“B-but, I don’t understand… you look so young!”

A part of her thought maybe she was being fooled… and with the way things had been going for her, it was only normal that she’d feel that way— that she’d be quite paranoid of this silver lining that seemed to have fallen right onto her lap.

The dreadlocked woman dressed in a flowing, beautiful, thick, white robe with a hood stepped away from the cauldron. She moved towards the distressed, dung covered woman, her head cocked to the side in curiosity. Snapping her fingers, she said, “KLERE VERANDER!” and Kendra’s rag for clothes vanished, only to be replaced with a stunning red fitting bodice that seemed to have been sewn together with a matching set of breeches. The she wolf’s hands tentatively reached out to