"Meadow? Are we almost there?" The young girl wiped sweat and a few strands of fine hair from her pale brow as she struggled to keep up with her mistress's long strides. "Yes, young one," the tall woman in front of her replied, her ashen robe falling behind her. The girl stepped over a pile of brown goo. She didn't want to know what it was. She didn't even want to be here, in the forest. She missed the warm hearth of her mistress's cottage, beside which she would often sit and toast her small hands on cold nights. Why had Meadow brought her here? The large leather-bound tome in her young arms kept slipping, and her bare feet constantly caught on her new, white tunic, especially treading through this brush. She wanted nothing more than to go home. "This will be your new home," Meadow seemed to reply to her thoughts. "You will get used to it." "My new home?" The girl didn't like the way Meadow had said that.

Relieved at a place to rest, her small apprentice sat on a fallen log, still clutching the heavy book. "Why here?" she asked finally.

Meadow gave a small sigh...of regret? This was something that she rarely did, given her usually confident and righteous demeanor. It concerned the girl.

"Mistress...?"

"You will be safe here in the woods. Safe from the fighting and prying eyes that you would encounter otherwise." She leaned down to the girl's level, her old, wise brown eyes meeting sharp blue of youth and innocence. "You will stay here and study...without me."

She began to protest, as Meadow knew she would. "But, Meadow, how can I do this without you? It is too hard!"

"You will fail with that attitude, no matter what you do. I am sorry, but this is the way it is. This is the way I became a full witch, and I have full confidence in you. This is why you are starting so young...." Meadow extended a finger to catch a tear running down the child's face. It hurt her to do this to a girl so young...barely eight, in truth, but it was for the best. For her future. "I know that one day, you shall become a much more powerful witch than I ever was, even in my prime." Sadly, she rested a gracefully wrinkled hand on the book in her apprentice's lap. "Study it. Follow it. And remember my words. Follow my advice: it shall lead you in the right direction." Trying to comfort as well as she could, Meadow ran her fingers through the child's strawberry blonde hair, cherishing its softness. "Be strong. I shall be thinking of you and praying to the Goddess for your happiness and protection."

Sniffling in acceptance, she looked up at the woman. "I guess that I have no choice."

"That is nonsense. You always have a choice. You could choose to abandon this road and take another. It would be without the hard work and solitude, but it would also be without magic. You would be a normal girl in a mundane world. Is that what you want?"

She looked down. "No." Running a small finger over the scrawled black letters on the tanned cover, she mouthed them to herself. Spels and Kharms, the spidery lettering whispered to her. It was full of all the knowledge she would need to become a witch. Everything else, she would gather on her own.

"There is one last thing," added Meadow as she opened her cloak. Watching the girl's eyes, she pulled out a black-handled, double-bladed dagger. Her athame. "Take it."

Hesitantly, the child grasped her fingers around the weighty object, feeling the cold iron. "It is mine now?"

"Yes. Take it and use it." Gravely, Meadow covered the girl's eyes with a hand and muttered a low chant. Too low for the girl to hear, not that she would have understood had she done so. The small girl's body went limp, her hand allowing the ceremonial tool to drop from her fingers into the soft dirt. Unveiling her young face, Meadow laid her down on the fallen tree trunk and watched her chest rise and fall in the rhythm of sleep and dreams. She turned from the scene and began to make her way back to the world, wondering despite herself what the future held for the girl.

"Good-bye, Alanya. I wish you well."

Copyright Diana Marsh, 2000 (Dream and all Sandman characters are the creations of Neil Gaiman and Mike Dringenberg and trademarks of DC Comics and Vertigo. However, Alanya, Orrin, and Meadow are original fictives, to be used by no one but me unless I say otherwise. This is a labor of love, and no money is being made off of it. Yadda, yadda, yadda...)

Author's Note: This is the first, or introductory, story in a series about Alanya the white witch. I hope to continue it for a long time. (If you have any ideas or would like to try writing a story for the "Daughter of Diana" series, please e-mail me.)