Maire was sitting quietly watching the darting forms of the iridescent blue dragonflies as they skimmed the slow-moving waters of the lazy little stream.
Of a sudden, the dragonflies scattered and the sound of marching feet and stamping hooves came to the girl’s ears.
She slipped into the undergrowth, then climbed into the concealing branches of a venerable oak tree.
The witchfinder passed within two manlengths of her hiding place, but his long nose never so much as twitched.
Marie made a sour face. The fools passed her by and wasted their steel on harmless old fools with cats….