The wind blew Tala's hair across her face. With her hands manacled behind her back there was nothing she could do about it. It was enough, in the darkness, to obscure her view of the road and she stumbled occasionally as her feet found the steep sides of ruts left by cart wheels. Whenever it happened she felt the firm hands of Cunningham on her shoulders keeping her from falling until she was walking steadily again.

     The Knights walked in single file along the narrow road with the young witch near the head of the procession. Only the Knight Captain, holding a glass lantern, was ahead of her, the set of his body radiating satisfaction as he led the way back to town. The air was full of the sound of the wind in the trees, and when she heard the gurgling of water she knew they were passing Harringly Brook; a narrow stream that followed the road for a while before passing under it through a narrow culvert. It meant they'd covered about half the distance already. Another hour or so and she would be locked up in a prison cell.

     She became aware of the Crone again, her astral form hovering somewhere nearby. <Well, well, well,> she mocked. <You seem to have gotten yourself into quite a pickle.> Tala didn't reply.

     <Don't worry, dearie,> the Crone added. <I have plans for that pretty body of yours. I won't let anything happen to it.>

     <Go to hell,> Tala told her.

     <Oh undoubtedly. Undoubtedly, but not for a while yet, I think. Prepare to be rescued, my pretty.>

     <I don't want to be rescued. Better to die in the stocks than be used by you to do evil.>

     <You'll be rescued whether you want it or not. I'm sending some of my friends for you. See you soon, sweetie.>

     Tala tossed her head to try to throw her hair away from across her face but the wind just blew it back again. It was lower this time, though. Mostly across her mouth rather than across her eyes. She spat it out as she peered through the few tangled strands that still tried to obscure her vision. Would it be wolves? she wondered as she stared into the trees growing beside the road. The Knights were all armed, though. They would easily be able to defend themselves, no matter how viciously the Crone compelled them to attack. Maybe she'd somehow found a way to gather all the wolves living within a hundred miles into a single huge pack... She dismissed the idea instantly. Such a thing would surely be beyond her power unless she was stronger than the most powerful witch in tale and fable.

     The first warning they had was a rustling in the undergrowth ahead of them. Tala saw something flowing across the road like a spillage of thick, grey liquid, barely visible in the darkness. The same sound came from behind them, cutting off both their advance and their retreat. As the Knights stopped, staring at it in concern, Tala began to hear a thousand angry animal voices coming from it. <Hungry. Must feed. Food on two legs. Must feed.>

     <Not the girl,> the Crone warned them. <Do not harm the girl.>

     <Food is food,> the animal voices replied. <Must feed.>

     <Not the girl,> the Crone insisted. <Harm the girl and you will feel my wrath.>

     Tala heard a whimper of pain from whatever was lying in wait ahead of them and knew the Crone was using her Eyes that Bite. <Yes, yes,> the animals agreed reluctantly. <Not the female.>

     <Which one's the female?> another asked.

     <The one with her forelimbs behind her back,> the Crone told it. <The one with the long hair on her head. Do you understand?>

     <Don't do this,> Tala begged the Crone. <Please don't.>

     <They are my enemies as well as yours,> the Crone replied. <They've got this coming.>

     "What is it, Captain?" one of the Knights was asking. He was holding his spear as if getting ready to stab whatever it was that covered the road like a deep, thick carpet.

     "It's your doing, isn't it?" said Cumningham, taking a tight grip on Tala's arm. He pulled her around to glare into her face. "What devilry is this?"

     "It's not my doing," Tala told him. "There's another witch. Much older and more powerful than I am..."

     "No lying!" Cunningham told her. He drew his knife and put it under her chin. Tala tilted her head up as she felt the sharp point pricking her skin. "Stop it or I'll cut your throat."

     "That won't save you. You have to look like me. Put your hands behind your back and they'll leave you alone."

     The Knight Captain, meanwhile, was stepping forward to get a better look at whatever was blocking the road. "God!" he gasped in fear. "It's rats! Thousands of them!"

     "Kill the witch!" another Knight demanded. "While there's still time."

     "Right." Cunnimgham grabbed Tala's hair and pulled her head back with savage strength. He put the knife to her throat. "A better death than you deserve," he said, "but hell's waiting for you..."

     Then he gave a gasp of pain and staggered back, the knife falling from his fingers. "Kill her!" he demanded. "She's using her evil eye on me!"

     It was the Crone, Tala knew. She was using the Eyes that Bite on him. Another Knight ran towards her, drawing his knife, and Tala ran towards the trees. At the same time the rats ran forward from all directions, surrounding the Knights in a furry grey tide. They rushed past Tala's feet without harming her but swarmed up the legs of the Knight chasing her. He cried out in horror, trying to brush them from his body, but they were already inside his clothing, biting and eating. He stabbed himself with his knife, trying to kill the rats, but there were too many of them.

     Tala knew she should just run, that maybe she could escape both the Crone and the Knights if she was fast enough, but a morbid fascination took hold of her and she could only stand and watch as the Knights were eaten. She saw Gareth running madly into the darkness, slapping at his body with hands that were already running with blood. He disappeared from sight but she heard his screams getting louder and more shrill as he continued on.

     The others tried to fight for a while, dropping their spears and drawing their short swords to slash and stab at the multitudes of rats consuming them. They must have killed dozens but there were just too many. Soon they were reduced to rolling around on the ground, their eyes staring in madness and their jaws open in continuous sobbing screams of agony. The Captain turn his head towards her and she saw empty eye sockets streaming with blood. There was a rat wriggling deep into his open mouth to chew out his tongue.

     One by one the Knights fell still, except for the wriggling of rats under their clothing as they continued to feed. The grisly sight lost its hypnotic hold over Tala and she found herself able to turn away. She prepared to run, but then there was a man standing in her way. Grey haired and elderly, but still strong enough to hold her helpless when he grabbed her arm.

     "Come on my lovely," he said as Tala stared at him in surprise. "Gryla's waiting for us."

     "You work for her?" she asked as the man led her away into the woods.

     "Have done for fifty years," the man replied. "Me and my son Bronn, like my Da and his Da before him. Generation after generation for nearly two hundred years. And soon we'll be serving you, although it'll no longer be you inside that pretty skin of yours. She says the first baby to come out 'o your womb will be mine." He grabbed her breast and gave it a firm squeeze. "I can hardly wait."

     <Patience, Gren,> the Crone warned him, though. <You'll be sticking your cock in that tight cunny before long, I promise. Just keep yer hands to yerself for a little while longer.>

     The hand fell away. "Aye, mistress." He took her arm again and led her deeper into the woods.

     <It'll be his son putting a baby in my belly, won't it?> said Tala. <You won't want those old, cold hands on your skin. Does the father know you're lying to him?>

     <Oh Tala,> the Crone replied, sounding disappointed. <Do you think I've secured the loyalty of a family for twelve generations by lying to them? It will indeed be Gren putting the first baby in your belly, although it'll be my belly by then. Old, cold hands on my body is a small sacrifice to make for the loyalty of a family like that, and there'll be younger men later. Yes, including his son. He's waiting for you back in the cottage, helping me get everything ready for your arrival.>

     Sick despair washed over Tala as they walked on. The manacles were tight and heavy around her wrists, a constant reminder of her helplessness. She tried to tell herself that her situation had improved, now that she was only held captive by one man rather than six, but that man was still more than capable of keeping her under control so long as her hands were manacled.

     Then a sudden burst of hope lit up inside her, though. She didn't just have her two flesh and blood hands. She also had her invisible hands. Could she do something with them? They were no stronger than her flesh and blood hands but she could still reach into Gren's chest and squeeze his heart...

     The very idea made her shudder with horror. She knew she would never be able to kill a man. It just wasn't in her to do it. Maybe she could squeeze his neck and choke him until he fell unconscious... No, it would take too long. He would have plenty of time to knock her out and then he would carry her the rest of the way. The Crone would forgive him a few bruises on her body. They would fade and heal. No, attacking him was out of the question, so what else could she do?

     The man was holding a glass lantern, using it to see his way in the dark. If she could free her hands and smash the lantern she would be able to run faster than him through the dense woods with her witch vision to see the way. She could no longer sense the other witch's astral form. She must have returned to her body to prepare for the soul transference. That meant that if Tala could get away from Gren the Crone would have to search the whole forest for her, and the longer Tala could remain undiscovered, the wider the area the Crone would have to search. She could escape, and with the whole country to hide in the other witch would never be able to find her.

     First, though, she had to free herself from the manacles. The tightness of the hard metal around her wrists seemed to mock her, but when the Knight had put them on there had been a ratcheting sound as he'd closed them. It had been the sound of a spring-loaded peg being pushed in by the teeth of the ratchet. That pin was all that was holding the manacles closed. Normally, a key was used to pull it in to allow the ratchet to slide back out, but if she could push the pin back in with her invisible hands...

     The pin was tiny and her invisible hands were large and clumsy, but she could feel with them. She felt along the curve of the metal bracelet and found the hole where the key was inserted. The hole was far too small for her invisible hands to go in, but maybe the size of the hole didn't matter. Her invisible hands weren't made of any material substance, so maybe, just maybe, they could go through a material substance like a ghost through a wall. The problem was to make them immaterial enough to go through the shell of the bracelet, but material enough to depress the pin. Could she do that?

     Her first few attempts were failures. She didn't have the faintest idea how to alter the materiality of her invisible hands. How long did she have to try? The Crone had told her that her temporary home was Bluebell cottage on Flywell Lane. That was only a couple of miles away. They would be there in less than an hour. A new wave of panic threatened to overwhelm her and she forced it down with an effort. She had work to do.

     If Gren thought it strange that Tala walked without any complaint or protest, he didn't say anything. Tala was giving the manacles her full concentration. It would have been easier if they'd been motionless but having to avoid tripping over roots and fallen branches was a constant distraction. Gradually, though, she figured out how to do it. She felt the pin in the locking mechanism and was able to put some pressure on it. Gren was walking behind her, though, and would see immediately if the manacles fell away. He would grab her, and he was no doubt strong enough to drag her the rest of the way through the woods without the aid of manacles. She had to distract him for a moment.

     She stopped and turned, therefore. "You could just let me go," she pleaded. "Please." With her hands now out of his sight she pushed the pin and one of the bracelets fell away. She stopped herself from gasping with relief.

     "Keep walking," Gren told her. He reached out to give her a shove.

     "Please! I could..." She reached out and grabbed the lantern from him. He gave a cry of surprise as it was pulled from his grasp and then Tala threw it hard against the bole of the nearest tree. Darkness fell as the glass shattered and Tala ran, gasping with thankfulness and relief as she sped between the trees, her witch vision showing her just enough to guide her feet. She heard Gren shouting and cursing behind her and she laughed joyfully while the manacles swung to and fro from her left wrist.

     <Clever minx,> she heard the Crone exclaim with grudging admiration.  <Where is she?> she called out to the forest animals. <Look for her. Look for a human.>

     <I see her,> she heard something reply. A badger, Tala thought. She cursed. She hadn't expected this. Her own green ears could only hear animals from a couple of dozen feet away. The Crone was evidently much more powerful. Her astral form was probably already on its way, and when she found her she would guide her human servants to capture her again.

     <Don't give me away,> she begged the badger, and any other animals close enough to hear. <Please don't give me away.>

     <Why not?> the badger replied.

     <Because we're playing a game,> Tala told it. <We're playing hide and seek and I want to win.>

     <I want to play too!> cried the badger in delight.

     <You can,> Tala told it. <Help me hide. Tell the other human I went another way.>

     <Yes!> cried the badger. <I'll tell her you went towards the...>

     <I can hear you, you pathetic animal,> said the Crone, and her astral form was there, hovering above Tala. Tala ran faster, gasping with fear, but then she felt her body stiffening as the Crone used a Compulsion on her. She fell to the ground, her fall softened by a blanket of leaves, and a moment later Gren was there, pulling her arms behind her back and putting the manacles back around her wrist while she sobbed with despair. Then he picked her up, slung her over his shoulder and carried her, groping his way carefully through the dark forest, the rest of the way to Bluebell cottage.