When she was three, they took away her mother because she was a ‘witch’. She remembers the mute acceptance on her mother’s face, as if that ridiculous accusation had been expected for a long time.
Four, and she remembers waking up in cold sweat, desperately clawing through the covers to touch her older sister, making sure she hasn’t been taken away as well. She remembers her father’s sad eyes resting much too often on her, his even sadder remarks that she looked so much like her mother.
Five, and she remembers the thrill she felt on healing an injured fawn. She’d cleaned the wounds and applied some medicinal leaves, and a few weeks later the creature was bounding about like normal. She remembers her sister’s eyes widening in surprise and the fervent whispers to keep it a secret. Continue reading