(A forest near Segovia, Spain 1498)            

        By the next evening the village of Torres was talking. The official inquisitors of the Church, along with their senior administrator had returned in an angry and excited state. It seems when they were given authority to break into the old Senora Las Casas' cabin in the woods, they found evidence that the woman of Avila—that evil and cunning witch who proved to be so illusive to the authorities,  had been  occupying the little house for some time. And that time, as the investigators were to learn, ended only hours before they arrived.

            "They said she had been using the Devil's tools. Left there in the house by the  former witch," explained the butcher. He was lecturing to his clients as he carved the white and red meat off the side of a young pig. "The old witch . . . Las Casas, may her soul rot in hell, had collected enough herbs and potions to charm the whole province of Castile!" he said to them, laughing. "I heard it all from the master inquisitor. Just an hour ago over some Port wine at the Inn."

            Standing behind the mesmerized customers who listened to the rotund butcher intently, was the young hunter, Diego. He had with him  his fresh pouch of game to sell to the proprietor with the large knife. He listened intently, realizing the whole discussion was about the young woman whom he had encountered in the forest house in question.

            "And they knew she had been there . . . only the night before," the portly butcher said. Her fire was still smoldering. Her footprints . . . and those of a man . . . were still fresh outside from the day before."

            Diego looked down at his feet, understanding it was his own manly footprints they had found with this woman's whom he knew as 'Anna'.

            "Well she packed a few things from that house . . .then left for good," the butcher reported to the enthralled group of customers. "Oh . . . they'll find her. But let's hope before she carries on Satan's work in another town somewhere. Praise God! And give the witch hunters strength to find her."

        The butcher then waved his knife in the air like a sword of righteousness. "Then let's hope they send her off to the burning stakes . . . like they did Senora 'Vieja.' Another evil one."

            Diego stood quietly and unmoving. He considered leaving before he sold his game.

           Another man spoke up standing next to him. "It's not enough that the inquisitors burned the house down today with all of its evil inside,"  he said. "But now they'll have to find this new witch and put her to the flames as well!"

            Diego was even more stunned. Could it be true what they were saying about this wonderful woman he had dined with only the evening before.  Was it truly  her, the dark–haired beauty he had  spoken to about the wildlands and magic of the Spanish countryside? Could  Anna really  be a heretic? A "bruja," as they said about her? His heart somehow told him 'no'.

            As Diego stepped up to the butcher and emptied out his sack of dead birds and rabbits onto the counter, he did not argue with the meager price the fat proprietor offered him for his labors. He knew he was being cheated. For it was the woman in the forest herself who had warned him. And with such concern for him and his younger sister. As Diego took the piece of silver from the butcher and left for the loft where he and homesick Manuela lived, he could only think which direction the bright and beautiful woman might have journeyed. How far  might she have now traveled in one day? Most likely toward the cities to the northwest.

            Without delay, Diego climbed the outer stairs to his loft and gave to his sister the money he had earned for them. He told her to keep the door locked at night and to be patient for his return.

            "It might be many days," he said. "For I have much to hunt this time," He freshly packed his crossbow and arrows, a small amount of bread and died meat, his heavy coat, a blanket bedroll and a large flask of water. He then quickly descended the steep stairs to be on his way to the edge of the forest.

            "I love you dear sister!" he called back, as he headed out of the town to begin his task of tracking. 

                                                    *     *     * 

            On the second day of his journey through the hills above Torres, Diego as an expert hunter  came upon the trail of some lone hiker. He could tell the person was perhaps less than a day's trek ahead of him. He also knew from the small fires he found, that it was important to the trekker not to be seen at night. Diego was young, determined and resistant to fatigue. He knew he could eventually overtake the person of his hunt if he traveled even after dark. And so on the third day he could smell the smoke of a fresh fire in the distance. It told  him of cooked dried preserves—something Anna might be surviving on. In this last leg of his approach, the young hunter took the time to find and kill several game birds for his own, and hopefully his company's, sustenance.

            Moving quietly into a dense thicket of bushes and tall trees, he could finally make out in the distance a woman in a heavy black robe. She was seated close to a small fire ring she had constructed with stones. As he neared her he could hear her softly singing. Her jet-black hair gave away that she was the same woman he had set out to find—the charming lady of the forest. But he also knew her now as a fugitive from Torres. One whom the town had already condemned as a conspirator of Satan. Yet there was too much inside of him, beyond his courage, that refused to believe any of the town's hysteria about this mysterious woman.

            As Diego approached Beatriz slowly, he waited for the young woman's singing to stop so that she might hear his voice.

            He loudly called out across the trees: "Did I arrive in time for your enchanted cooking?" His deeper voice cut into he singing and broke the stillness of the woods at midday.

            The woman's head quickly turned toward him and she stood up, prepared to run.

            "It's me, Anna . . . Diego!"

            She stared back cautiously, through the branches of trees.

            He spoke again, more softly: "If you remember, Senora . . . I did promise to see you again."  

            The dark-clothed woman, still unsure of the intruder, instinctively covered her body tightly with her black robe. "Move out of the shadows," she requested, boldly. "So I might see you."

            This Diego did, and Beatriz quickly relaxed.

            "Are you alone, Diego?"

            "Yes. I always hunt for the most beautiful creatures alone."

            Walking up closer, he could now see the attractive woman smiling, though she looked tired and was soot-covered by her many fires and days on the run.

            "So dear hunter, . . .to what do I owe this unexpected visit?" Beatriz spoke in a refined but excited voice.

            "Well, for one . . .  I learned I would never find you in the town anymore. And your house? Well . . .you shouldn't consider it will ever be there again."

            Beatriz  hung her head at this last comment. She was obviously saddened by the destruction of the little forest dwelling.

            Diego now stood before her and they both looked into each others' gaze. There was still much there between them. And out of the young woman's soiled face was still the magic of a hypnotic stare. It told him there would be much to rekindle from their first evening--and possibly more still to discover and enjoy.

            "I missed you," he said somberly. "When I heard that you left the forest house. And hearing still what they had said about you . . . why it was you left. Well  . . . I just didn't want that first time we met . . . to ever be the last time, Anna."

            She reached her hand out to him. And he took her soot-covered fingers in his strong grip. "Diego . . . my name is not Anna. It's Beatriz. I am from Avila and . . . there I was also hunted down."

            "It can not be true what they said of you in Torres. I can say . . . yes,  I was charmed . . . but not by evil. Only by a beautiful heart."

            Beatriz moved closer and embraced  him tightly. Suddenly while in his arms she began to cry.

            "I too missed you, my hunter. And leaving that house forever was not nearly as hard as knowing . . .that  I had also left the chance of ever seeing you again. But look. Here . . . three days later . . . you are in my arms!"

            The two remained in a long, silent embrace. The hunter's eyes too, staring out into the wilderness, welled up with tears.

            He then pulled away gently. "If you truly are a sorceress . . . Beatriz. . . I give in to your spell. Because I see there is no evil about you. Kiss me now . . . and show me this is not a curse Or no longer just the dream I have had about you since I left.

            Beatriz reached up to Diego's face, as in their last parting. And this time it was Diego who cradled her face in his hands and kissed her softly. And as before, they kissed again, longer and more passionately. When they stopped, and looked into each others' face, the sharp reality of where they were and what challenge they had to confront was now fully upon them. It threatened to engulf and temper their passion. Yet they also knew that journey now would be more tolerable together—always in anticipation of consummating a fire that started before. And one that that burned still in both of them. It was a fire as hot as the flames now being witnessed in the plaza's of Seville, Avila, and the nearby Segovia. 

                                                     *     *     *