Crack goes the axe bit into wood, felling another dead giant. The Witch sits crosslegged upon a stump, braiding her hair, and watching the Woodsman. The Witch picks up her axe and makes her way to the Woodsman, a gentle smile on her face. He greets her with a big embrace.
Behind the high countertop, the witch peers over to see if anyone stares back at her. No one. She continues making different potions, all doing the same thing but carrying different flavors. Satisfied, she sells the popular wares and dusts off the particulates sticking to her apron.
A bowl of soup later, the witch feels satisfied but still cannot shake the incessant cough. She visits the bees but they keep their distance, telling her to go home.
The Witch's familiars help in ways unseen by others, providing support, offering helping paws, or just being cuddly. Sometimes they block progress contorting their bodies across the keys hindering the magics inside.