We Don't Forget - Prologue

My hand trembled, and I looked down at it with interest. I was nigh on ninety years old, so normally, such a thing would surprise no one; but I was not subject to most weaknesses of the flesh. 1

I would later wonder if my hands had not known, long before I had, that a change was coming. Indeed, I knew, even then, that there was a change to come, but I knew not what, though I thought I did. I could not understand the terrible truth of the divergence about to occur.2

"Night's falling, love," Auria whispered to me. Not because she had to, mind, for she was no weaker than I, but because it was a whispering sort of moment. "And with it will come death and rebirth." She sighed, then, a weary sort of sound that conveyed her great frustration. "And then, fourteen years or so apart. I hate dying. Wouldn't it be nice if witches were truly immortal, like the humans think we are?"3

No, we weren't immortal. A witch lived a fairly long life, but it was no longer than a human's might be. And yet.... "We are immortal, in a way. Our Memories live on, when we are reborn. Else, how could we find each other again? But no, to wish our bodies could live on forever.... we might as well wish that rat of yours could become a wolf." That last remark was directed toward Anwhin, her spirit form. It took the shape of a beagle, snow white like the hair on both of our heads. 4

In the firelight, though, neither Anwhin or Stanien, my own badger spirit form, actually looked white. They both seemed a sort of dull orange as they lay on the bed, bathed in the bloody light of the dying fire in the hearth. 5

We, too, lay painted by the failing embers - naked, of course, as any witch should be at her death. We feel it coming, know exactly when it is due, so there is always time to prepare. No witch should die clothed, unable to feel the shrill, bright singing of the stars, and the steady lullaby of the moon. 6

And she was dying, my kind, lovely Auria. She knew it was only moments away, and I knew that mine would follow. Of course it would. Why would I live on without her, and perhaps be older than her when we were reborn? It had happened before, and wouldn't happen again.7

"Kithrim, my wonderful, wild, witchy woman," Auria murmured to me. "I love you." My heart pulled within my chest. Fourteen years, until puberty came, and our Memories returned to us. Fourteen years until we would have the means to fnd each other. "See you in the next life, my dearest."8

She died, then. In that same moment, I felt her presence within the womb of a woman nearby, a woman who, presumably, didn't yet know she was pregnant. It was then that I knew.9

Finally, finally, I understood the portent of my own trembling hands. Auria had been reborn, yes, and reborn nearby, but something had gone terribly wrong. 10

My best friend, my lover, my own dear soul had been reborn as a human. No matter how much time passed, her Memories would never return to her. A hot, stunned tear fell, and wet her cooling cheek. I pulled the stopper from the bottle of poison, dazed, and downed it. I remember quite clearly what I thought as it took hold of me, dragging from my current body into a new one. 11

She will not remember me, but I am a witch. We don't forget. 12

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