She sat at her writing desk which she had hastily moved by the window this evening. She opened it to let in the moonlight, the only thing that brightened the room. She hated candlelight when the moon was full in the night sky. It was forbiddingly cold but she didn’t care, even though she was only wearing her floor length chemise. Her nipples stood to attention and her skin had goose-pimpled underneath the sheer fabric but not a shiver passed through her. Her mind was on the herbal recipe she had been given and she had to write it down quickly before any of the ingredients slipped her mind. The area she had traveled to had a long history of witches due to the plants with unusual properties which grew in the surrounding forests.
She had rushed back from the woods repeating the words back to herself like a childhood poem, knowing full well the cost of forgetting a line or getting the order wrong. The witch she had gone to see was quite a distance away and she had only spoken to her from her herb induced trance. It wasn’t as if she could ask her again. The woman had excited the Countess to such a degree that the moment she stopped her manic dance Erzsébet grabbed her by the hair, and pulling her backwards arched her neck so that all the veins and arteries on it protruded temptingly. The old woman was breathing fast from her exertions and her tanned skin glistened under the sweat she had worked up in the smoky, dank hut that reeked of all her preparations. They called her the Seer, but she had not anticipated this one. She would never have guessed she was to die at the fangs of the reigning Countess, whose job was to sustain and protect the area and its inhabitants. She had strong lungs for a woman her age and her shrieks reverberated for miles, but this far into the woods only wolves heard her desperate screams.