The witch walked through the forest, the smell of dawn all around as he found himself getting deeper and deeper in the forest. It was not odd for him to go out this early; he was always working on new potions and ointments to help his people with sickness. Thomas was one of the witches in a small village where simple people lived side by side by the powerful healers of the kingdom. Here the village supplied the witches with food, clothes and a roof to sleep under. In exchange they lived a healthy and secure life.
The king and queen of the land also depended on the small village for their medicines and magical spells to enrich their lives. And through the years the village had gotten a name of being safe, more mages traveled to the small village. Those specialized in war kept the borders safe and those that hunted dark spawn used it as a safe home in between their raids.
Thomas, eldest son of two wonderful parents and the big brother of a sister who trained to be a war mage, was known to be especially kind. It was clear from a young age he would not be a warrior, he would not be a hunter nor would he be a leader. Instead he would heal and be a literal light among the darkness that was always looming behind the tree lines.
He fell over, as he often did, close to the entrance to a cave. Which would lead to a rather important discovery in the life of the witch; he heard a sound. Not of a bear, not of a mountain lion or a deer. But something more human, he sensed pain and his hazel eyes widened immediately as he scrambled up, ignoring the stains on his pants as he walked forward.