I stand in the kitchen pounding bread for the evening meal when Mary and Patience walk in from their trip to the market.

"I hope you have the lamb, or you can turn back," I throw at them, but they are giggling and don't appear to notice.

"And do you know what else I heard?" Mary says, unloading the basket to the counter. "There is a witch in Drakesheath."

"No!" Patience replies.

"Yes! She makes potions and does spells and everything."

"Who is it?" Patience asks. I lean in closer, interested now.

"A woman whom lives in the village," Mary replies. "She's quite mysterious. I asked the shopkeeper if she knew her name and she said yes, but she wasn't at liberty to say."

"Mary, you're just making this all up, you are," I complain. "Honestly."

"Fine," she shrugs, with a smile. "Beleive what you want, but I know the truth, and witches, they are here, in Drakesheath." Patience and Mary start giggling and walk up the stairway to the second floor as I put away the goods.

Could this be true? My mind was spinning with possibilities...

I go out to the barn and sit with a pen and paper to write a note to the shopkeeper. It takes awhile, as my spelling isn't great, but here is what I come up with:

"Dear Shopkeper,
I am in nead of a poshin, of
a importint personal natchure. I was
told that you have meens to this?
Plese keep this a privit matter.
~Mel Saba"

I give the carriage driver a coin for his secrecy and he promises to deliver it for me when he can get to town again. I also place a coin in the envelope, for the confidance of the shopkeeper.

A return to the kitchen, pounding the bread, dreaming of possibilities to come...