At night, in Dreadmire village...
The sky was dark red, clouds drifting lazily over the moon, casting shadows across the land. In the distance, owls hooted softly, and the wind rustled through the tall red grass that surrounded the outer parts of the village.
On the far outskirts, where most of the Dreadmire flower fields were spread out like soft glowing blankets, five witches crept through the night. They were dressed in long black robes that almost blended into the darkness. Their feet didn’t make a sound. Their eyes gleamed with greed.
The first witch stopped and looked around sharply. Her nose twitched like she was sniffing danger, but all she could see were guards patrolling near the far fence with slow, lazy steps.
She turned her head and quickly gave a hand signal to the second witch beside her.
The second witch nodded once. Then all five of them dropped low to the ground and crept along the side, moving through the grass like shadows. They waited for the guards to turn away, then climbed over the weaker side of the fence—quickly, quietly, like they had done this many times before.
As soon as their feet touched the inside of the field, their eyes lit up.
Two full fields of Dreadmire flowers stood before them. Wide, thick rows of soft white glowing flowers swayed under the moonlight. They looked real. They looked magical. And to the witches, they looked like treasure.
"If we take all of these... the boss will reward us for sure," the third witch whispered, already reaching into her robe to pull out a large empty sack.
"We might get promoted too," said the fourth, her lips curling into a smile.
They didn’t waste time. One by one, they started pulling the flowers from the ground, stuffing them into their sacks as fast as they could without making noise. They were careful at first but the longer they went without being caught, the bolder they became.
The petals were soft to the touch. The stems looked perfect. Even the scent in the air felt sweet and fresh. No one questioned anything. The witches were too busy imagining gold, praise, and power.
Behind them, the youngest witch giggled quietly. "It’s like a dream. This is too easy."
The first witch, their leader, didn’t smile. She kept her eyes on the path and whispered, "Just keep moving fast. Don’t get greedy."
They worked together, filling bag after bag. They had almost finished the first field when the fifth witch stepped near the edge of the second field and brushed her foot against something.
It sparked just slightly barely a flicker but enough to sting her ankle and make her gasp.
The others froze. "What happened?" one of them whispered.
"I touched something—maybe a bug, or metal," she whispered back, rubbing her leg.
"Quiet," the leader hissed. "Don’t panic. Just keep moving."
She walked over and checked the ground. There was a thin metal hidden in the grass but she didn’t understand what it was. Maybe it was part of the fence. Maybe just old junk. She didn’t care.
She glanced back at the guards. They hadn’t noticed a thing.
"Let’s go," she whispered. "Hurry up."
They continued stealing more flowers. In total, they had filled four full sacks—heavy, but worth it. The youngest witch was grinning ear to ear. "Boss will call me her lucky star after this," she said quietly.
None of them noticed that a few flowers had slightly bent corners. None of them noticed that some petals didn’t bend like normal plants. None of them looked too close at the flower, where the fake white part had been made from damaged real flower scraps.
They were in too much of a rush.
After twenty more minutes, the leader gave the signal—it was time to leave.
Carefully, they climbed back over the fence the same way they had entered. No guards noticed.
The village was completely quiet, just like they had hoped.
Once they were far enough from the field and deeper into the woods, the witches finally stopped to catch their breath.
"I can’t believe it," the third witch said, panting. "That was the easiest grab ever."
"They’re fools," the second witch added, shaking her head. "Leaving two full fields out in the open like that. No traps. bad protection."
"They’ll cry tomorrow when they see it all gone," the fourth one laughed.
The leader stood there quietly, watching the sacks filled with flowers. She didn’t say anything. She just gave a small nod.
"Let’s go," she finally said. "We’re done here."
They vanished into the forest, leaving behind nothing but light footprints in the grass.
Just a little further into the woods, hidden behind a cluster of trees, a wagon waited for them.
Without a word, they all rushed forward, carrying the heavy sacks in their arms. The second witch climbed up first and reached down to help lift the bags one by one. The third and fourth witches tossed theirs with a grunt, wiping the sweat from their faces, while the fifth witch nearly tripped but caught herself in time.
Once all four sacks were loaded into the back of the wagon, the witches climbed in and took their seats, panting slightly from the rush but their faces were glowing with victory.
The wagon rolled forward in sky, deeper into the woods and away from Dreadmire village.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, suddenly, the first witch let out a loud laugh, unable to hold it in anymore.
"I can’t believe it was this easy," she said with a wide smirk on her face, leaning back and stretching her legs.
The others laughed too–quiet at first, then louder as the thrill of the night filled the air.
"Two full fields of Dreadmire flowers," the second witch said, shaking her head in disbelief. "They really left them wide open. Like a gift from the stars."
"No traps, not even one villager watching. Just sitting there waiting for us," said the third, still giggling.
"I thought maybe something would go wrong," the fourth added, looking back over her shoulder. "But nope. We got in, filled our sacks, and got out. No scratches."
The youngest witch hugged her knees, grinning. "The boss is going to love me for this. I’ll tell her it was my idea."
—To be continued...🪄
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