Glade Pollen Witch

Field account

The glade was too bright for midnight. Gold pollen hung between tree trunks, each grain turning around us like it had an eye. At the center stood the Witch, tall and rooted only by the hem of her dress. Her face was a white orchid with a dark human mouth in its throat; smaller blossoms opened along her arms whenever we breathed. She counted them softly. First breath: trespass. Second: fear. Third: intention to burn. Jory cursed, and flowers bloomed across his tongue before sound reached us. The rest of the crew began walking in different directions, following private trails drawn through the haze. I opened the rain bladder above my head and cut it wide. Water dragged the gold out of the air. Without her census, the Witch could not tell one breath from another. Every orchid face turned toward me, beautiful and furious, while we carried Jory into black water deep enough to wash his voice clean.

Observed behavior

A Pollen Witch watches breath before movement. She allows visitors several exhalations to reveal fear, deceit, fire, illness, and destination, then assigns each a different path through the glade. Groups are divided by personalized scents and false clearings rather than attacked together. Spoken threats invite throat blooms; held breath amuses her and may earn a short audience. She bargains for secrets told into flowers, especially truths never spoken aloud elsewhere. Rain, strong crosswind, or immersion destroys her careful distinctions and makes her lash out indiscriminately. A Witch will not follow beyond the last pollen-bearing blossom unless someone carries one away.