EPILOGUE
Clouds floated across the boundless blue sky, casting shadows onto the plains below.
There was one patch of land that was the most ideal temperature, shielding exposure from the direct sun, where a single tree stood beneath the clouds, top swaying in the cool air.
The leaves stirred in the breeze, rustling before taking flight from the single tree on the plain and drifting through the air. Spinning around as if dancing, the leaves whirled around a certain witch before finally scattering.
“…Hmm.”
After lightly touching her cheek where the leaves had caressed her, that witch looked up at the tree.
Her long, sleek ashen hair swayed in the breeze as she soared on her broom. This young woman was a witch and a traveler. She was clad in a black robe and a pointy hat, and upon her breast was a star-shaped brooch that served as proof of her witchhood.
She tilted her head quizzically as she gazed up at the tree.
“…Hmm?”
She had a memory of this tree, standing with an air of composure, surrounded by small grasses and flowers. Landing her broom beneath its branches, she recalled when and where she had seen it before.
“This is where I took shelter from the rain.”
She remembered this view. It had rained in the middle of her travels, so she had settled down on this spot for a short while.
Somehow or other, it seemed she had returned.
Recalling the scenery as it had appeared the last time, the witch let her mouth form a little smile.
And then, perched atop her broom, she gently rose into the sky. Before her stretched an expanse of pale greens and deep blues.
It was beautiful.
It was ordinary scenery, the kind that was common anywhere.
But it was enchanting.
“……”
But the witch did not stop like last time. This time, it wasn’t raining. She had no reason to linger.
As a witch and as a traveler, she delighted in traversing this beautiful landscape more than simply gazing at it.
She walked around beneath the tree, thinking about where she should head next. But that quickly grew tiresome, and she left to return to the sunshine.
The plants below her glittered, swaying in the sunlight, as if to greet the traveling witch.
The wind blew tenderly, as if to caress her.
The ordinary landscape kindly greeted the witch, as always—as if inviting her to the places she had not yet seen in the wide world.
“…I wonder what kind of place the next country will be,” she mumbled to no one in particular.
She didn’t know the answer, but she was eager to find out.
With a heart jumping from excitement, the witch continued her journey.
Who was she?
She was me.
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