Soraya's heart was pounding as she stepped into the shop. She had gone on her journey to California in somber silence, unaffected by the glorious quest she had begun. But now, being in the place she'd been instructed to go to, she suddenly felt like it was the first day of the rest of her life. As soon as she stepped foot in the shop and saw the old woman working behind the counter, it felt as though there was too much air in the room. An invisible force was pressing down on her shoulders, but she braved the fear and stepped forward anyway.

There were others here. No one she recognized, no one who gave her a sense of familiarity, but there was a bond there - even if she didn't fully realize it. The ravens had told her of them, her "kin" they had said. Soraya scanned over each of them, trying to get a sense of who they might be. She was able to take in all of them (feeling somewhat disappointed to see only one other woman) and their features, and their faces were now embedded in her memory. Now familiar with the other group members, she took in the shop. She scanned over all of the cheap costumes and novelty fake weapons adorning the walls. There was little to see here, so she quickly moved on to the elderly woman manning the shop. The floorboards creaked as Soraya came to a full stop a few feet from the counter. The old woman had her eyes closed, but she was not exactly blind, Soraya thought. The suspicion was confirmed as she felt a heavy gaze come over her, then move on momentarily.

Suddenly the shop became dark. Spinning around, Soraya saw that the blinds had been drawn and the door sign flipped over. With a sharp impact, a thought hit Soraya: kîskwehkan iskwew. Witch. The words invoked a feeling of fear, but also of great respect. The old woman was powerful indeed. Although Soraya's culture fostered an incredibly strong love and respect for all elders, knowing the old woman was kîskwehkan iskwew nearly drew the breath from her lungs.

The Cree woman waited silently as the elder gave the dark-haired, tall white man a gift, in exchange for his sack of gold coins. She avoided looking, however, when the old woman's wrinkled eyelid slid back to reveal an empty black socket, somehow still giving her vision. When it came to be Soraya's turn, though, she found it in herself to look levelly at the woman with the respect she was owed. When she had received her payment, the witch handed Soraya a wolf hide, explaining that it was from a werewolf. She bowed her head in thanks. Soraya's heart ached for her brother that had suffered such a fate, but silently thanked him for this gift. She held it close to her with pride, and waited again while the others got their gifts. She nearly winced at one man's gift of wolf teeth. She thanked that wolf for their gift as well.

Apparently the witch did not like to be crossed, as the most unremarkable-looking man of the group received two stab wounds as his gift. Soraya saw a coin fall to the ground, and realized that he had tried to scam the witch. She sympathized with him - the punishment was more than extreme - but was glad that she regarded the woman with such respect. Hopefully that would save her from receiving the same treatment.

Although she hesitated to speak, Soraya knew that this opportunity would not come again. Although the ravens had chattered and quipped away to reveal much about her destiny, of course there was still so much to ask. The dark-haired man with the rifle asked one of the questions she'd been pondering, in an unfamiliar accent, but he did not receive an answer. Instead, he was dismissed quite quickly. But then the witch began speaking to him, with much more thought, in an unidentifiable language. Soraya tried to listen but couldn't understand a single word of it. She stole a few glances to her new 'brother,' who after some time closed his eyes and seemed to disappear from the room. Too curious to hold her tongue, Soraya had to ask. "What's happened to him?"