Oh oh…my shoes! The witch cried out. Freya went for the door, but the witch was faster and she made them shut with a loud bang. Now, she didn’t know where to go. She looked around the room and her eye caught something; the witch’s flying stick.
She didn’t know how to fly one, but now was not the time to think or waste. She went for the stick, and before the witch could come up with a spell, it rose high up in the large room and flew out through the window into the dead of the night.
She flew in the sky haphazardly, and with no direction for hours before crashing into a tall tree in the middle of nowhere; and she blacked out.
He heard a loud crash in the middle of the night as he was just about to go to bed. It had been a hectic day of farming and skinning a large boar he had caught the night before, and so he was tired; but he could not ignore the sound he heard.
The incident from eight years ago had thought him to never ignore an unusual thing again so, with an angry sigh and grunts, he got off the bed and grabbed his torch. He picked his sword and made for the door.
When he got outside, it was pitch dark. There was no moonlight or stars. The only light that illuminated the field was the light from the torch he held, and from where he stood, he could see the outline of a figure where it had crashed into the tree.
He looked down to the bottom of the tree and from afar, he saw a strange distorted shape lying down beneath it. He drew his sword and ran forward. He lowered his torch so that he could see the thing, whatever it was, clearly and when he did, he gasped.
It was impossible.
He could just be dreaming. He slapped himself twice to be sure and when he was certain he wasn’t, he dropped his sword and carried the unexpected midnight visitor into the warmth of his home.
He dropped her on his bed and stood by it, unsure of what to do with the insensible body of the most beautiful girl in the world.