Whispers of the Raccoon Priestess: A Wildwood Folktale
Caitlin Hall - The Hag Under The Wood
Author Introduction
I grew up in an area lovingly known as Kentuckiana in the Ohio River Valley, where the river holds secrets older than local memory. As a child, I roamed over a land steeped in unacknowledged history and structures lost to time. My childhood adventures—and a penchant for immersing my inner world in tales of witches who fall, get muddy, and rise anyway—taught me that power often hides in the quiet, in the roots, and in the things we are told to fear. These formative ideas influenced the trajectory of my life in many ways, including my decision to teach special education, support my community with folk herbalism, and explore dark feminine archetypes through folkloric fantasy writing.
Inspired deeply by Tolkien’s sentiment, “If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world,” I truly believe that if we can let go of our synthetic experience of the world and adopt a Hobbit-minded lifestyle, the world would be a merrier place. Aspiring to that simplicity, I took to studying Bilbo Baggins and formulated nine steps one can take—in no particular order—to reach that Hobbit-minded lifestyle. I rediscovered my love for walking in nature, gardening, and a new zest for reading. Through this process, I discovered how profoundly upset my nervous system was and how it was eroding my quality of life; consequently, I decided to keep at it and share my sideways teachings. Today, I am the Hag Under the Wood: a burnt-out millennial, head witch at Elder Creek Apothecary, and weaver of tales for those who find solace in the dark.
Author Bio
My writing background consists of standard English classes, two articles written for a teacher magazine, and decades of pouring my angst onto the page—stashed away in journals like the meticulous raccoon I am. While I have yet to claim the formal accolades I secretly crave, I’ve always made the grade; honestly, I write because these words demand to be let out.
When my heart gets hooked on a story, it literally haunts my dreams until I draft the words. I am drawn to dark fantasy and specifically the dark feminine because She is the most relatable archetype for me. She dares to do everything I want to do without the weight of consequence. There is a visceral satisfaction in seeing someone claim their power on the page and feeling it resonate in your own heart.
Currently, when I am not navigating the trenches of a public high school classroom or blending remedies at Elder Creek Apothecary, I am perfecting Lunathir’s Heir, with the steadfast goal of finally bringing my work out of the shadows and into the hands of those who need it.
Whispers of the Raccoon Priestess: A Wildwood Folktale
Weary and untethered, a woman named Rowan wanders beyond the edge of the known world and into the "in-between." Guided by a cast of primal animal archetypes—from the grounding strength of Bear to the sharp-eyed wisdom of Owl—she must journey through three internal Cauldrons: Warming, Motion, and Wisdom. It is a tale of nervous system reclamation, where "trash-priestess" ingenuity meets ancient folklore, proving that the path home isn't found on a map, but written in the marrow of our bones.
Sensory Prose: I don’t just describe the forest; I hope to make the reader feel the "marrow-shaking" rumble of a bear’s voice and the "sticky brambles" of a weary mind. The writing is tactile, earthy, and deeply grounded.
Archetypal Depth: Each animal serves as a masterclass in nervous system literacy. They aren't just characters; they are embodiments of boundaries, rest, and intuition, making complex emotional work feel like a Grimm’s fairy tale.
The "Hag" Voice: There is a beautiful tension between the sacred (the Cauldrons) and the profane (a raccoon eating honey out of a jar). This "Raccoon Priestess" energy gives the story a relatable, "burnt-out millennial" wit that keeps the high fantasy feeling personal.
Emotional Resonsnace: The transition from "nameless" and "fragile" to "Rowan" (shield and spark) offers a powerful arc for anyone who has ever felt "drained of their broth" by the modern world.
Themes & Strengths: Discusses recurring elements (e.g., grief as a catalyst, moral ambiguity, liminal spaces, feminine-coded power) and how these might resonate with fans of dark fantasy.
Quotes from the story:
“You are nameless,” Bear rumbled, the sound shaking the marrow of her bones. “A vessel yet unmarked. You cannot walk the forest unnamed... You are Rowan. You will bend, but never break. Your roots will drink from stone, your branches will climb toward stormlight. You are shield and spark, red-berried against the dark.”
“I’m not here to comfort you. I’m here to remind you that creation and destruction are siblings. You tear down the nest, you build it again. That is the way of the world. Every story you tell feeds the dark and gives it form, keeps it from swallowing you whole. You, Rowan, are a story animal.”
Sacred Reflection on the Dark Feminine
The Dark Feminine is the sacred rot that must come to all who were so they may be what will be. She is the Compost Archetype, the raccoon, the worm, the badger, the bear, who help all living things transition to their next form. In my personal life and creative work, she doesn’t embody the villain arc; she is the fertile, un-manicured soil where things must die before they can bloom. She also guards the boundaries of my hearth and supports my sacred work of alchemizing grief into ink.
In works like the Whispers of the Raccoon Priestess, she is felt as the Scavenger archetype. She rejects the “synthetic experience” and becomes the priestess of the periphery instead. She finds value in what the world discards.
In my framework, "Rest as Resistance" is the primary domain of the Dark Feminine. Where the "Light" feminine in this aspect is associated with constant blooming, nurturing, and "doing," the Dark Feminine is the Winter—the hibernation of the Bear.
Ultimately, embracing the Sacred Dark Feminine means trusting the wisdom of the undergrowth. It is the realization that burnout is not an end, but a descent into the quiet, nutrient-rich dark where our most authentic selves are forged. When we stop fearing the rot and start honoring the compost, we find the courage to walk the Wildwood not as victims of our exhaustion, but as stewards of our own renewal. To live a Hobbit-minded life is to understand that the hearth is kept warm only because we have first gathered the wood from the shadows. By the grace of the scavenger and the strength of the bear, we do not just survive the winter—we become the soil from which a merrier world grows.
Closing
Thank you, Caitlin Hall - The Hag Under the Wood, for sharing your reflections of shadow and light. Dive into Caitlin's worlds - links below. What resonates most with you in her work? Share in the comments!
Read Whispers of the Racoon Priestess: A Wildwood Folktale