Witch Catcher by Mary Downing Hahn

clouds, I followed a narrow path that twisted downhill into the woods behind the tower. The shade was dense, the light greenish. Grapevines dangled here and there, poison ivy flourished, and the ground was cool and mossy under my bare feet. The air smelled of old leaves, wet earth, and damp, growing things. Crows squabbled and blue-jays shrieked. Now and then a songbird warbled.
    After a half-hour's walk, Tink and I heard the sound of water. Soon we came to a stream of dark, deep water, running fast over stones. On the bank sat seven boulders, lined up as if someone had placed them there. I climbed to the top of the biggest and looked around—nothing but trees as far as I could see. It was easy to imagine Tink and I had wandered into a magical forest, unknown to anyone but the two of us.
    I looked down at my cat, who was investigating a dense growth of ferns. "We're in an enchanted place," I told him. "A unicorn could crash out of the bushes any second. We might see a dragon on the hill or find a fairy hiding under a toadstool."
    Tink twitched his tail, ready to face anything I might dream up.
    I went on talking to him, a habit I'd had for years, partly because he always seemed to listen. "This must be where Great-Uncle Thaddeus came to paint. These rocks are in one of his pictures, and so are those trees." I pointed to three stiver birches, the biggest I'd ever seen.
    Tink looked at the trees, his amber eyes wide, as if he saw things I could only imagine.
    "I dreamed about this forest." I looked over my shoulder, suddenly fearful. What if Moura should come walking down the path, just as she had in my dream?
    "Moura found me here," I whispered to Tink. "She wanted the witch catcher. Do you know what she did when I wouldn't give it to her? She changed into a long black snake."
    I shivered and peered into the bushes, half expecting to see a snake slithering toward me. At the same moment, the woods darkened, and a cool breeze ruffled the trees, flipping the birch leaves silver side up. Thunder rumbled. From the trees, crows cawed and hurled themselves into the air, streaming away as if they knew a storm was coming.
    Sure enough, well before I was halfway home, rain began pattering on the leaves. At first I thought the dense trees would shelter Tink and me, but the wind increased and the rain poured down. The steep hillside was soon awash with water. With Tink scrambling ahead, I slipped and slid my way to the top. By the time I burst out of the woods, I was soaked, and so was my cat.
    Dad stood on the porch with Moura and Ciril Ashbourne. Dad saw me first. "Jen," he called, "where have you been?"
    I ran up the steps and tried to dash into the house without speaking to any of them, but Dad took my arm and stopped me.
    "Slow down a minute, Jen. I want you to meet our guest, Mr. Ashbourne." Turning to Moura's friend, he said, "This is my daughter, Jen."
    Ciril Ashbourne's mouth twitched as if he were trying hard to smile at me. Like Moura, he was wearing tinted glasses despite the gray sky and falling rain. "It seems the storm caught you by surprise, my dear."
    Moura's attempt at a smile was no better than Mr. Ashbourne's. "Have you been walking in the woods, Jen?"
    When I didn't answer, she said to Dad, "The woods around here are dangerous, Hugh. Snakes, poison ivy, boggy spots. The river's treacherous, too. The current's strong, even in shallow places. Worse yet, strangers pass through now and then—tramps, I suppose. I wouldn't permit Jen to play there alone. It's simply not safe."
    Dad turned from Moura to me, his face full of worry. "Maybe the woods aren't a good place to play, Jen," he said. "And from now on, please tell me where you're going when you leave the house. It worries me not to know where you are. Especially when the weather turns bad."
    Dad opened the door and ushered me inside. "You'd better change your clothes. You're soaked."
    Eager to escape Moura and Mr. Ashbourne, I ran upstairs with Tink. After I rubbed