Meg Evans

All parts of this story are consolidated on one page here.

Ina, wearing a faded but clean dress that fit reasonably well, sat in an oversized chair on Nellie’s front porch, piled high with embroidered cushions. Her bandaged feet rested comfortably on a feather pillow on a low stool. A table held a teacup and a large plate overflowing with apricot scones. Beyond the porch, in the hazy afternoon sunlight, bees buzzed serenely in a flower garden along a white picket fence.

Nellie hovered like a hummingbird, full of nervous energy, pouring more tea into Ina’s cup and pacing from one end of the porch to the other. Inside the cabin, Mabel and her little brother Godfrey were napping. Mabel had woken briefly, murmuring “Mama,” when Nellie stripped off her wet clothing and put a clean gown on her, but then she had fallen back to sleep.

Hammering and clattering could be heard from across the yard, where Nellie’s husband, John, was busy repairing a shed. Ina suspected he was working nearby to keep a close watch on her, given Nellie’s evident fear of witchcraft. In truth, Ina couldn’t have posed much of a threat to anyone at present. She felt weak as a kitten, and just reaching for a scone made her shoulder start to ache.

“Are you quite comfortable, Ina? Do you need anything more?”

A gray cat ran across the porch and leaped into the grass. Nellie’s gaze followed it for just a moment before darting back to the doorway. The children still slept quietly.

“I’m fine, Nellie. Sit down and have some tea yourself, why don’t you?”

Taking much slower steps, Nellie got herself a cup and sat directly across the table from Ina, with her chair pushed back so far that she could barely reach the table. Not meeting Ina’s eyes, she looked down at the cup but did not make any move to lift it.

Ina gentled her voice. “I won’t harm you, Nellie. I am a healer, taught to serve always with love.”

She turned the word over in her thoughts, seeking certainty. Healer. Yes, she could claim that status now. It seemed as if ages had passed since she had tried—and failed—to summon healing energy in the infirmary where Phoenix was recovering from a broken leg. It had only been this morning, though.

“Why do you fear the witches of the Wild Forest?” Ina took another sip of her tea, which tasted of lemon and soothing herbs. “Have any of us ever done you any harm?”

Finally glancing up, Nellie opened her mouth as if about to speak, but then closed it again. Her hands clenched around the edge of the table.

Ina took another scone and bit into it, waiting patiently.

“Six years ago, on Midsummer’s Eve—the witches killed my sister.”