Trick-or-treat

Saratoga and Moliugas, the unlikely duo, continued their trek through the forest hills after being filled by a rather strangely delectable assortment of plants and flame, of which only the truly helpless and famished would even consider ingesting at all.

As their hike progressed further on the path, the two noticed moss draped over the side of a boulder. In a playful state, they decided to climb the strangely sturdy collection of tiny plant tufts and peek over the trees.

“There's a house over there.” Moliugas pointed to a wooden building not far away. “We've been traveling all night. Wouldn’t a long rest be in order?”

The sun would be rising soon, and they'd made a decent distance toward their destination. A few hours of sleep would do them good. But Saratoga questioned if these forest dwelling folk would quarter them at all.

“Witches might not be looked upon fondly in these parts,” Saratoga admitted. “There's a reason lux constructs patrol them, you know.”

A long time ago, many of those brilliant glassy fiends were set out to patrol Golgotha and destroy a consorting band of witches, preventing any more trickery on the locals. Who sent them out was a mystery though.

“Nonsense, my friend!” Moliugas gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “If any hostilities arise, allow me to dispel them.”

Her faith in him was lacking in the greatest of senses, but somehow she ended up following his lead to the house. Perhaps it was in interest of seeing the social wreckage he'd let loose with his demanding nature.

By the time they arrived, the sun peeked over the hills. Saratoga immediately felt her eyes become adverse to the rays of pure shining glory. Her big hat shielded her well enough, but not before Moliugas nearly confused her absolutely pale complexion for a ghost.

“Boo,” she lifelessly uttered, covering her face with her cloak.

Unlike her, Moliugas relished in the light, basking in its glow for a warmth that seldom came in the night air.

“You probably like the sun because you're a plant,” she concluded with a muffled tone from her cloak. “Plants need sunlight, after all.”

It hadn't occurred to him that all the features of a plant would effectively be his own, such as photosynthesis, but he contemplated the matter all the way up to the wooden cabin doors.

Because his hands were soft and unable to produce a significant knock, he requested Saratoga do it instead.

“Um…” she uttered, her pale face turning red. “N-no. You do it.”

Moliugas noticed she was at least five meters away from the door and putting some foliage between them, which he took as a clear sign of shyness. Had he been able to read thoughts, he would have been absolutely correct that she wasn’t one to socialize well.

Her reclusive lifestyle made it rare for her to interact with other living humans, save for a few business related endeavors, of which her mother usually spearheaded.

“We need to knock on the door,” Moliugas laid out plainly. “It's hard for me to do that. As you can see, my hands are quite soft.”

“They probably won't like me. I'm a witch, remember?”

“Would you do it if I said please?”

In the little time she was with him, hearing a ‘please’ of any kind was rare. Rewarding that activity seemed positive in her book, despite her harsh aversion to talking with people.

She knocked exactly three times, then leaped back away from the door. An elderly lady answered the call, holding a bowl filled with candy.

“Is it Halloween already?” She tossed a few pieces at them, which they both caught. “Trick-or-treat, kiddies!”

Saratoga was baffled at the thought of anyone trick-or-treating all the way out here, but perhaps a few brave souls ventured this far on occasion to get a sweet treat.

“Excuse me, madam…” Moliugas spoke in a polite tone. “Would you be ever so kind as to allow us to rest in a spare room of yours? We've been hiking for some time.”

The elderly lady was all smiles at the idea, allowing the two of them to stay in a guest room for as long as they needed.

“I don't have many guests, so make yourselves at home. Here, I'll go boil some water for tea.”

Saratoga naturally remained suspicious of this hospitality, but she sensed no malice within the elderly woman. Rather, something recognizable, like a familiar aura, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.