Haud ignara mali, miseris succerrere disco.
Not unacquainted with distress, I have learned to succor the unfortunate.

-Virgil

When I was little, I had no roof overhead to protect me from harsh winter winds and cruel summer sun. My caretaker was another witch, like myself, who taught me everything I knew when I made my stone-walled home. Before then, we knew no home and wandered the streets as beggars. When I asked her why she never made an attempt to make even the smallest of cabins, without even using her powers, she would chide me.

"A powerful being does not wander the streets amongst the common folk, young one. They know our existence and look for us in castles, houses, and even cabins. We must continue to hide in plain sight, my little witch."

Nevertheless, they did find us. I had been in an alleyway, watching the snow fall as I shivered uncontrollably, the thin cloth of my tunic doing little to protect against the bite of cold. I was desperate, freezing, and because of this, I was careless. I had made fire rise from my palms, licking my fingers playfully, without looking around first to see if anyone would notice my craft being used. I thought I was hidden since the street was not visible from where I sat, but someone had seen the flash of light against the stone and decided to investigate. I didn't notice them until they were dragging me towards the manor, kicking and screaming.

They had no pity, no sympathy in their eyes when they cast them upon my countenance, tears streaking my dirty face. My friend heard of my capture and came to the trial, where the lord of the land decided whether I was, indeed, practicing the forbidden craft. She watched as he merely glanced at me before waving his approval for my execution. 

I remember being tied to that wooden post. My mind had blanked, all rational thoughts leaving me to die a crazed girl. I remember thinking about the splinters digging into my skin, irritating me. The frayed rope they used to hold me in place was barely strong enough to stay wrapped around my hands without falling apart, but I didn't dare try to break them. If they caught me trying to escape, they would simply tie me down with stronger, better constraints. I had to be patient if I were to gain my freedom.

They lit the pile below me, and I started to panic. I let myself scream for help, scream for the mother and father that abandoned me, not making any mention of my companion in the front of the crowd. I turned the hatred in my eyes on the bystanders as the flames got closer and the smoke started to obscure my vision, choosing then to whisper my incantations. The whisper grew, louder and louder until it was a battle cry, a war call, yet still unheard by the shouting commoners. 

I had scarcely finished with my enchantment when the fire started licking my boots, scorching the worn leather. I closed my eyes and let myself be absorbed in fiery heat.

They didn't seem to care that I was no longer screaming in pain, or that I made no attempt to free myself. They must have been unable to see me, unable to hear over the crack of the fire. They huddled around the towering flames for almost an hour, until wives called their husbands and children to eat their suppers before they got cold, husbands called for their wives to make supper, and children called for their parents to explain and sooth them, for they were not yet accustomed to watching people die. 

The fire continued burning without fuel to sustain it, but the peasants passing now feared to look up at what should be a charred corpse, and scarcely noticed. It was through this that I was hidden enough to call on the ravens that I had befriended, their shiny feathers glistening, then dampened in the ash and smoke as they flew overhead. Encouraged by my praises, they flew closer and closer, until they all but encompassed me in the harmless flame. Passerby would be disgusted by the unnatural; apparent crows flinging themselves to their dooms in the sake of their master's grief. Yet as they surrounded me, I allowed the last line of my song to slip past my lips and I was made nothing.

The intelligent eyes of my congregation caught sight of my wisp, free of the body that imprisoned it, and carried it gently away in their claws.