Witches do not fall in love. We are not at liberty to. A curse set upon us centuries ago by a blind haggard witch who was left for dead by her handsome prince lover. She lived of course, branded from her heartbreak and tortured by the mere thought of any of our kind falling prey to such a spell. I know I am not alone in knowing that witches CAN in fact fall in love, but it is a sorrowful sweet love that is rarely recipricated. I believed this all my life, until I met Patriclus. He sent a ball of fiery feeling straight through my heart, hooked me like the scorpion hooks its prey. A werewolf by nature, but always a King to me.
Werewolves were thought to be gone from the realm, hunted and once found banished or killed by the same witch who cast the spell amongsrt us witches forbidding us to fall for love. The gypsy dolls were the ones that saved them. Hiding them away in the Forest of Duprye, the werewolves lived off the radar coming out only to hunt. That is, until I came along. I heard word in a bar one night, listening to two drunken fellows reminisce about the good old days when dragons and fairies were abundant and werewolves roamed the land free. I followed the bigger of the two, convinced that he was one of them. Boy was I right. High and mighty and strong as a stone mountain he raced through the woods straight to the entrance of the Forest of Duprye. When he looked back at me our eyes locked and that was the end of my time as a witch. He loved me instantly, and proved it with a small moon like bite to my ear.
Now we fight, hand in hand, for the resurrection of the werewolf clan.