“What spell? Are you crazy?” I shrank backwards into the the cave wall, hoping to melt somehow in the cold, hard stone that was cutting into my back.

“Stand still, my poppet; It won’t hurt a bit,” Malvolia coaxed.

“You wish!” I rolled desperately away from her grimy hands and reaching nails.

“Now now,” the witch said, her century old brow furrowing, “It’s no good to have a captive that struggles.”

“If I didn’t struggle would I be a captive?” I whined at the top of my voice. The bonds around my legs were starting to come loose. The witch’s spells were strong; But her body was not.

My legs shot out and tripped the hag; She went flying. I was hoping an oven would pop out of nowhere—like in Hansel and Gretel and she would just be roasted.

I stiffened my legs and shook my leg bonds free.
Hopefully the witch wasn’t going to use her paralysis spell again.
At this time, my hair was a curse. It dragged and scraped fearfully against the floor, paining me.

The hag staggered again;

I was off like a shot.