“ MIDDAY BURNING , MIDDAY BURNING !” the town crier, a young man, called from atop his guard tower. He disappeared into the shade of the covered walkway along the top of the town wall. “Witches,” he spat, “glad to be rid of ‘em, we be.” He crossed himself and ambled back to the watchtower.

Airini stood next to the pyre, her hands bound, hair hanging in front of her face in dingy ropes. “We was just foolin’, is all!” Her friend, Margret nodded, dirt smeared across her face from the prison cell they’d shared for a week. “We en’t really witches, we was just playin’ and-” the pyre lighter gave her a stern look, and she quieted.

The two girls, found in the woods only a few months before, had tried to summon spirits in the night only a week ago. The old washerwoman heard them trying love spells, too. They were led to the top of the pyre, tied to a huge stake, and the tinder was lit.

“There will be no burning today.” Airini crowed. The two girls began to change shape and flew into the air, cackling like birds.