By These Ten Bones by Clare B. Dunkle

was delighted with the arrangement. She spent her free time with the mysterious wood-carver, and she grew fonder and fonder of him, in part because he was so obviously attached to her. She was still the only person to whom he spoke freely, the only one in whom he confided his troubles. He was almost well now, and her neighbors respected the quick work he made of their broken tools. Maddie put the hissing shadow from her mind. She began to daydream of a future in which the good-looking carver boy stayed by her hearth.
    Then tragedy jarred the town. Bess’s mother went into labor, and when the child was born, the women scattered, wailing. The baby had the face of an animal, they said. It had the mouth of a beast.
    The townspeople gathered outside the smith’s house, whispering together. Maddie stood with them, her arm around Bess, and her frightened cousins gathered near her. Their father was away from home, doing work for the new lord. The smith often traveled from town to town.
    â€œThis is evil work,” said Little Ian. “The mother was bewitched.”
    â€œIt’s unnatural,” agreed Black Ewan, “like that attack on the wood-carver.”
    â€œThe babe won’t live through the day,” Old Peggy announced from the door. A grandmother herself, she was the town’s midwife. “He’s a weak little thing, and his mouth isn’t made right. He can’t nurse.”
    â€œWe’ll have the baptism right away,” rumbled Father Mac, coming out, too. “He has just as much right to heaven as any other little child.” The priest hurried off to the church to gather the things he needed.
    A wave of relief ran through the crowd. These were normal events. Many babies died soon after birth. Four of this newborn’s brothers and sisters already lay in the churchyard. It was good that such an unnatural child would soon be at peace, but that didn’t change the horror of what had happened.
    â€œThere’s someone working evil among us,” declared Black Ewan, heading back to the fields. He spat. “God’s curse on that black soul.”
    â€œAy e, he’s right,” sighed Old Peggy. “That poor murdered baby. Come with me, lambs,” she said to the smith’s children. “I’ve a bit of honeycomb for you. Little ones can’t understand these things, and that’s all to the good.” She and Bess herded them away.
    The crowd broke up, heads down and hearts heavy. Maddie picked up her egg basket and started off, but Carver seized her hand. “Wait, Madeleine,” he whispered.
    Maddie stayed behind as her neighbors walked away, trying to reason with herself. She was absurdly pleased to have her hand held, but she could tell the young man didn’t mean anything by it. He was turning her hand nervously between his long fingers as if it were a block of wood he was carving.
    â€œDo you think that’s true?” he asked when they were alone. “That something evil harmed that baby before he could be born?”
    â€œThey say witches can steal milk without leaving their homes,” she replied. “If a witch can take the milk that’s inside a cow, it could change a baby inside its mother. Who do you think it could be?”
    â€œI don’t know any witches,” he muttered, “but I know other evil things.” Maddie couldn’t help glancing at his shadow as he spoke. He followed her gaze and realized that he still held her hand. He immediately dropped it.
    â€œI need to talk to Black Ewan,” he decided. “I need him to let Ned go. It’s time for us to leave.”
    â€œTo leave!” she exclaimed, dismayed. “You don’t need to leave.”
    â€œI can’t stay,” he muttered, staring at the ground. “There’s harm being done. He has to release Ned. I’ve mended enough of his tools now, he owes me that.”
    So that was why he was working on the