The little hut sat at the bottom of a mountain. It wasn't the best of housings. Few would call it pretty. It was a one room, large enough for one to live comfortably, with a roof that sagged a little too much on the sides. The door had a habit of getting stuck closed. The windows did little to stop the bugs from getting inside. And the colors were so varied, like the one who built it had continued to run out of materials for paint. Which was true enough. Having never built a house before, the one in need of it had no experience with how much of anything would be needed. Too much roof. Too little paint. Perhaps the door was a little too big. Still, it was cozy enough for one. It kept the weather out, for the most part. And that was important. Witch didn't much fancy being stuck in the rain or high winds all year round.
The house was only a small piece of the area. An unimportant, small piece. A piece that was easily overshadowed by the real focus: The blackberries.
On all sides of the house, the bushes ran wild. Little paths curved around and into them, Witches attempt to make the gathering of the delicious little berries as simple as she could while leaving them alone as much as possible. So precious were they, that she weeded every day, ensuring nothing but the berries grew on their little patches of soil. Even if the offending plant was another berry bush, out it would come, tossed into the forest for the little herbivores to enjoy. Or a little blackberry bush in a corner she felt was filled enough would be tossed into the forest. Replanting wasn't important to her. If she wanted to spread them, there were plenty of the berries to plant into the soil herself.
At the moment, there were enough bushes for one B'alam. Witch had no intentions on purposely sharing her spoils with anyone else.
Thalion
Was it Griffin? Either way, finally had inspiration, so whoever.