The moon cast mysterious shadows across the bogs as Hamish McAllister scurried past the racks of drying fish towards the privy. The night was unseasonably chilly. Hoar frost tipped the blades of grass, and his shoes crunched with each hurried step. He reached the out building and ducked inside, eager to do his business so that he could get back to the fire and his warm bed.

An eerie sound outside suddenly made the hairs on the back of his neck stick up. His urine paused midstream as he listened hard, trying to discern what it was. A wolf, perhaps? He released his stream again, confident that that was what it was.

He finished just as a strong gust of wind blew right through the chinks in the wall. Another loud, piercing shriek outside made Hamish utter a cry of alarm. He stepped to one of the cracks and peered out from between the wooden boards. He would later swear that he saw a specter hovering right outside the privy. Terrified, he jerked away, his breath coming in quick bursts. Another gust of wind shook the building, making the boards creak so loudly that Hamish worried that it might break apart, leaving him standing out in the open, unprotected from the evil that lurked beyond. He closed his eyes and started praying.

***********************************************************************

Catriona Glenn wrung the water from the last of her laundry and hung it on the line to dry. It was cold and blustery, and her hands were raw and stinging. She pulled a tin of salve from her waistband and opened it.

“Catriona, I need to have a word with you.”

Catriona whirled around. Hamish McAllister, her neighbor to the north, was glaring at her.

“Hamish, what brings you here?” she queried. Just one week after Catriona had lost her husband, Lachlan, in a hunting accident, Hamish had offered to buy their farm. Catriona had told him no, and they’d had a difficult relationship ever since.

“It’s been what? A year now, Catriona, since Lachlan died? Surely you’re ready to sell it off and go live in Aberdeen. I’m offering a fair price, lass.”

“I’m not selling, Hamish. This was Lachlan’s dream, and I intend to see it through.”

“Being stubborn doesn’t become you, Catriona. A woman out here alone. You need a husband to help you out, at the very least.”

A shiver ran down her spine as the man’s eyes ran up and down her figure. To busy herself, she scooped some of the salve out and started rubbing it into her sore hands.

Hamish’s eyes narrowed, suspiciously. He reached over and took the tin out of her hands, “What’s this?” he asked her, as he held it up to his nose.

“It’s nothing. Just some ointment that I made.”

He dropped the tin at her feet, his eyes moving past her towards the fish that hung on a pole, waiting to be smoked once she’d had a chance to build up the fire.

“A strange thing happened at my place last night,” Hamish’s eyes returned to hers, “There was an ill wind, and I saw something, something flying outside of the privy. And then, just like that, it grew quiet again,” he grabbed her by her shoulders, “I had fish, just like those you have there, Catriona, and they were gone.”

Catriona shook her head in denial, “I caught those fish myself, Hamish, I assure you. Down at the river, just this morning.”

Hamish shoved her away, “There’s something fey about you. A woman out here living by herself,” he gestured at the tin on the ground, “Making strange ointments out of herbs or the like, and now a man having his fish taken right off his land in the middle of the night and come here finding those same kind of fish on your land.”

“What are you suggesting, Hamish?” Catriona stared him down even though she was quaking inside.

“Could have been you. Could have been a witch even,” he moved closer, until he was standing over her, his stocky, unwashed body reeking, “Or, maybe you are the witch, Catriona. Maybe that’s how you’ve managed out here so long.”

“Leave,” she spat, “Get off my land, Hamish.”

He sneered, “Or what, lass?” he crossed his arms over his chest, “Doesn’t look like you could make me.”

Three petrels, flying overhead, suddenly swooped lower, and started flying in a circle right above them.

Catriona ignored them, “I want you to leave, Hamish. I have work to do, so please, go.”

Hamish lowered his head from watching the birds and returned his lurid gaze to her, “Like I said, lass, I don’t see how you could make me,” he grabbed her arm, “Maybe you just need me to remind you how to please a man.”

Horrified, Catriona shoved against his chest, but he just laughed at her ineffectual movements as his grip tightened on her arm.

Suddenly, the petrels flew lower still, circling just a few feet above them now.

Hamish released her and quickly stepped back to look up at them, “What is going on here?” he growled, as he waved his arms at the birds, trying to get them to fly off.

Catriona had no idea, but she was grateful.

“You should leave, Hamish.”

He started towards her again, “You’ve not gotten rid of me yet, woman. What you need is a man to teach you your place …”

Catriona backed away in alarm, her eyes flying to the door of her house, gauging if she could get inside and throw the lock before Hamish could overtake her. It didn’t matter. She had to try. She took off running.

As she ran, she could hear his grunt of surprise, and then the hammering of his feet as he gave chase.

Suddenly, he began hollering frantically, but Catriona only turned around after she had reached the door.

The petrels were diving at Hamish and he was flailing and batting at the air, almost comically.

When that failed, he took off running, as the birds continued their assault. Catriona waited until she could no longer see him before going inside and bolting the door.

************************************************************************

Catriona arranged the carrots into neater rows on her cart and quickly stepped back behind it again as another group of people moved down the narrow street lined with carts just like hers. She’d been there for hours now, and had barely made any money, but at least she’d made some, unlike the man right next to her, who had failed to sell a single, reeking fish.

A woman and her two children stopped in front of her. The woman plucked up a handful of carrots and sniffed them. Catriona frowned, but remained quiet, lest she scare away a potential customer. After all, judging from the intricate gold stitching on the woman’s over skirt, she looked wealthy enough to buy Catriona’s entire stand.

One of the children, a girl, tugged on the woman’s skirts, “Mum, I want one.”

The woman shrugged and handed one of the carrots to the girl. Catriona’s eyes widened as she watched the child’s teeth snap into the crisp carrot, eagerly.

“You have to buy that.” she said, automatically. The moment the words left her mouth, Catriona regretted them, for the wealthy woman’s expression darkened in response.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked, as her pointy chin lifted haughtily.

Catriona shook her head. The once noisy crowd suddenly seemed to shush and it felt like a hundred pairs of eyes were staring right at her, wondering at her audacity.

The woman leaned over the cart, “I’ll have you know that I’m the sheriff’s wife, and if I want to sample the wares before I buy it, than I shall.”

She was about to nod meekly when the woman smiled wickedly and threw the entire handful of carrots into the street behind her.

Catriona gasped in outrage, “I don’t care who you are,” she hissed, “You will pay for those carrots!”

“Try to make me,” the woman sneered, “Come along, children.”

Fury rushed through Catriona’s veins. She’d worked so hard to coax those carrots up through the cold, hard soil.

“A pox on you!” Catriona cried, as the woman continued on down the street with her back ramrod straight, so certain of her elite status that she didn’t even quicken her steps at Catriona’s vitriolic, “A pox on you and yours!”

The excitement over, the crowd’s murmurs quieted and Catriona sullenly marched out into the street to pick up the ruined carrots.

Suddenly, a shriek filled the air, bringing everything to a standstill. Catriona slowly stood up. A cluster of people up ahead broke apart, revealing the wealthy woman marching towards her, her daughter in tow. Blood was pouring from the girl’s nose.

Catriona gasped, uncertainly.

The woman stopped in the street and pointed her finger at her, “You!” she shrieked, “You did this!”

Hushed whispers broke out, like a locust swarm, as accusing eyes turned on Catriona’s shaking form.

“Witch!” the woman hollered, “You’re a witch!”

“Witch.” a man’s voice said.

“Witch. She’s a witch.” a woman cried.

“No, no, I …” Catriona shook her head and started backing away. Sweat appeared on her brow and her stomach roiled in fear.

The wealthy woman swept closer, her elegant skirts snapping briskly, as she stopped right in front of Catriona, “You, you did this!” she spun around, addressing the growing crowd, “We must protect our children from this witch before she does them harm! Hurry! Take her to my husband. I implore you.”

Waves of terror washed over Catriona as hands reached for her, encircling her wrists and tugging her through the crowds as they marched towards the town center, screaming, “Witch! Witch! Burn on the stake! Witch! Witch! Burn on the stake!”

************************************************************************

A rat skittered across the cobblestone floor and Catriona pulled her legs up against her chest as she sat in the farthest reaches of the damp cell.

The cell reeked because she shared it with a drunk man who moaned pitifully whenever he wasn’t puking. He always missed the lone slop bucket that had been provided them, and Catriona was relieved by that fact as she was forced to stand up and move the few steps towards him to snatch the bucket so that she could relieve herself.

She finished quickly, keeping an anxious eye on the cell door the entire time. She looked up at the lone window that sat high up in the wall. The moon was bright and full in the dark sky. Every now and again, she could hear the words, “Witch! Burn the witch!” The baying mob had never left, and, eventually, the sheriff had marched out to try to calm them down, leaving her alone with the drunk.

A dull, numbing acceptance had settled upon her. Catriona knew what happened to people who were accused of witchcraft in Scotland. She had no hope of survival. She had no one who could vouch for her, now that her husband was dead. She was alone. All alone. There was no one who could save her, no one who could vouch for her good deeds, or talk convincingly of her piety, (not that she had any, but still) and absolute lack of spellcasting abilities. For heaven’s sake, if she were an actual witch, why the devil was she still sitting in a jail cell for, Catriona exclaimed, silently, to herself.

The door to the outer room swung open and the sheriff rushed in. He grabbed the keys at his waist as he approached the cell, “Get up,” he instructed her, “They want to see you, so I’ll be putting you in the pillory for a bit.”

Alarmed, Catriona refused to move. She wouldn’t survive that. The mob would surely kill her if he took her out to them.

“Are you deaf?” her jailor stepped into the cell, “I told you to get up.”

“No. No, they’ll kill me. I can hear them even now.”

The sheriff grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, “If they do, it’ll save me from waiting for the judge to arrive for the trial.”

“Please,” Catriona tried to slow him down as he forced her towards the cell door, “Please, I beg you.”

The mob went mad the moment that the sheriff forced Catriona out into their midst. Their taunting, venomous words shook her to her core. A man stepped right in front of her and spat in her face. She could feel the warm spit slide down her cheek, but she couldn’t wipe it away because her hands were tied behind her back.

“Out of my way. Out of my way.” the sheriff growled, as he marched Catriona over to the row of pillories. He unlocked one of them and roughly untied her before putting her into position and slamming the wooden piece down over her head and wrists, locking her into place.

“Let’s burn her now!” a man cried.

“Burn her now! Burn her now!” the crowd chanted.

The sheriff stepped in front of Catriona, “That’s enough. Go home. Go home for the night. She won’t be going anywhere.”

“Why should we wait. We know she’s a witch,” a woman shoved her way through the mob until she was standing in front of the sheriff, “Why should we wait for her to do more harm to our families?”

“She’s right,” another man stepped out of the crowd, “Kill the witch now!”

“She’ll have a trial,” the sheriff shoved the man away, “Now go back to your homes. Go on, the lot of you, or you can join her here in the pillory.”

The crowd broke apart unwillingly, but Catriona took no pleasure in it. Her back was on fire already, and she was beginning to shiver from the frosty night air.

The sheriff leaned over to look into her face, “I’ll be back to get you later. You’d best hope I don’t fall asleep.”

Tears slid down Catriona’s face as he laughed and walked away.

************************************************************************

A thin whisper woke Catriona out of her agony induced sleep. Judging from the darkness, it was the dead of night. She raised her head as much as the pillory allowed, and darted her eyes around the town square. A lone dog trotted across the square, but that was all. She dropped her head again.

Another whisper came, and Catriona raised her head and looked to the left, from where it came. There was nothing, save for two black birds perched on the other pillory.

“I am here.” a voice said from her right.

Catriona gasped and veered her eyes quickly to the right. A woman stood there. Her slight frame was enveloped in a black, hooded cloak, but her eyes shone like diamonds in her small, thin face.

“Who are you?” Catriona asked, in a raspy voice.

“I am Lorna,” the woman knelt down beside the pillory so that Catriona could rest her head again, “You have been unfairly accused?”

“I am no witch!” Catriona hissed.

The woman reached out her hand and lifted Catriona’s chin, turning it so that Catriona could see her face, “Aren’t you, though?”

“Leave me alone,” Catriona spat, “Leave me alone or I’ll scream.”

The woman rocked back on her heels, “We’ve been watching you, Catriona. We’ve decided to help you coax that tiny flame into a bonfire. “

Catriona opened her mouth to exclaim that she wasn’t a witch, when, suddenly the woman turned into a bird and flew off into the sky. A moment later, in a rustle of feathers, the other two birds flew off, too, leaving Catriona convinced that she had been dreaming.

***********************************************************************

Two days later, Catriona was taken before the judge. As she moved down the aisle towards him, she could hear the townsfolk whispering, “Witch! Burn her! Burn her alive!”

She couldn’t stop shaking as she finally stood in front of him, though she tried with all her might.

“What are the charges?” the judge asked, as he pounded the gavel to quiet the room.

The sheriff stepped forward, “Catriona Glenn is accused of witchcraft. We intend to prove that she has used black magic to harm our witnesses, your Honor.”

The rows of benches on either side of the aisle were packed with townsfolk, all of whom were now chanting “Guilty! She’s guilty! We saw it with our own eyes. Burn the witch!”

The judge slammed his gavel on the table and bellowed, “Order in the court! There will be order in the court!”

The mob quieted, as Catriona was led to a seat. The sheriff sat beside her. Catriona glanced behind her; the sheriff’s wife and daughter sat glaring at her. The child looked none the worse for wear, Catriona noted, but it wouldn’t make a difference.

“Call your first witness.” the judge ordered.

The sheriff stood up, “I call on my lady, Maura Brown.”

The woman stood up and marched to the chair beside the judge, her majestic skirts swishing crisply.

“You may question the witness.”

“Yes, your Honor,” the sheriff approached his wife, “Now, Mrs. Brown, can you tell the judge exactly what happened when you encountered Catriona Glenn.”

“Of course,” Maura’s eyebrow raised imperiously as she stared at Catriona, “I had went to market with the children. I was trying to help the cook, of course,” she smiled, first at her husband, and then the judge, “I stopped at her stall,” she raised a hand and lazily pointed at Catriona, “because she had some carrots on display. I asked her kindly if I might inspect one …”

“That’s a lie.” Catriona snapped.

Maura Brown gasped, as she flung her hand to her throat dramatically.

“Do not interrupt the witness again.” the judge ordered.

Catriona crossed her arms over her chest in frustration.

“You may continue, Ms. Brown.”

“Well, as I was saying, I asked her kindly if I might inspect one of the carrots and she said that was fine, so I picked one up. My daughter, my little Nell, she wanted to try one,” Maura looked up at the judge, “and I asked the woman if she could …”

“That’s not true,” Catriona exclaimed, “She’d lying, your Honor. She took the carrots, a handful, and she fed one to her daughter without ever asking me …”

“Bring the defendant here.” the judge ordered the sheriff.

Catriona sighed inwardly as she followed the sheriff up to the judge. She should have kept her mouth shut, but she was infuriated that she was just supposed to sit there silently and allow that woman to lie about what had happened.

“Place your hands here on the table.” the judge ordered her.

Confused, Catriona did as she was told.

The judge picked up his gavel and slammed it quickly down on the backs of her hands.

Pain shot through her hands and she cried out, unable to stop herself.

“Take her back to her seat.”

Catriona could feel all the eyes on her as she was led back to her seat. She tried to quell her tears, not wanting to show them how frightened she was, but her hands burned as bad as her wounded pride.

“Now, Mrs. Brown, please continue.”

“As I was saying, she agreed that I might offer one of the carrots to my daughter, but the moment that I did, she, well she just went mad, your honor. She began screaming that I was stealing her carrots, and I’ll have you know that I hardly need to steal carrots. I grabbed my children’s hands and we walked away, but she kept screaming like a banshee, and then she put a hex on my daughter. Everyone heard it. And the next thing I know, blood is pouring from my poor Nell’s nose. She’s a witch. Mark my words, that woman is a witch.”

The entire room erupted into loud calls for Catriona’s death.

The gavel banged down again, and the room quieted once more.

“Thank you Mrs. Brown. Sheriff, you may call your next witness.”

Catriona sat upright, scanning the room. What other witness was he talking about.

The sheriff guided his wife back to her seat and walked briskly down the aisle and stepped outside. When he returned, he led none other than, Hamish McAllister, up the aisle.

“Your Honor, my next witness is Mr. Hamish McAllister. Mr. McAllister is a neighbor of Catriona Glenn.”

“You may be seated.”

Hamish took his seat beside the judge. His eyes bored into Catriona’s, until she lowered her gaze.

As Hamish told the court about the strange goings on at his farm, and the even stranger events that had happened when he had visited hers, Catriona sank into a trance of sorts. She could hear the conversation, but the words were muffled and hardly mattered any more. She felt like she was no longer in her body, like she was looking down on the room, watching, wondering, but not really present anymore.

The woman that had turned into a bird suddenly appeared in her mind’s eye, and Catriona remembered saying to her, “I am no witch.”

“Aren’t you, though?” the woman had said.

Was she?

She lifted her eyes and looked at Hamish. His testimony would almost certainly guarantee her death. Why did he hate her so? What had she done, other than spurn his advances? She didn’t want to die, not over that. Not over wanting fair payment for her carrots, either. It was absurd. The unfairness of it all was bubbling up to the surface, filling her with rage, making her think bad thoughts, like wrapping her hands around Hamish’s throat and squeezing the breath out of him.

Suddenly, Catriona realized that Hamish had stopped talking. His face was growing redder and redder with every passing moment, and he began clawing at his shirt and gasping for air. It was at that moment that she realized, fully, that her thoughts had something to do with what was happening with Hamish. Her entire body shook as she chased the thought away. Hamish gasped and started breathing normally once again. He lifted his hand and pointed at her, screaming, “She did this! She tried to kill me! You all saw it!”

The mob started chanting “Witch! She’s a witch! Burn her! Burn the witch!”

“Remove her.” the judge ordered.

The sheriff took her by the arm and led her through the grasping hands that pulled at her hair and ripped at her clothes. When he reached the jail cell, he opened it and threw her inside so forcefully that she fell to her knees, “The next time you get out of this cell, you’ll be going to your death, witch.” he said, even as he made the sign of the cross, nervously.

************************************************************************

The daylight faded slowly as Catriona listened to the townspeople building her death pyre out in the town square. She was curled into a ball, her back to the cell door, in a state of shock. It had been surreal to realize that she had the ability to do what she had done to Hamish. She still wasn’t quite convinced that it had been her doing, but how else could she explain it.

A rat ran across the cell and Catriona bolted upright so that she could scare it off. She was alone in the cell now, the drunk having sobered up and released. She slid her back up against the cold stone wall and watched in surprise as the rat suddenly stopped and turned around to look at her. It then began walking purposefully towards her, only stopping when it was just feet away from her. And then, the rat turned into Lorna.

Catriona didn’t even bat an eye this time. So many strange things had happened in the past few days that she no longer considered an animal turning into a human to be odd at all.

Lorna sat down beside her, “You have changed,” she whispered, “I can feel it.”

“I have.” Catriona shrugged. She didn’t recognize her life anymore, and all she really wanted was to go back to when she felt safe on the farm with Lachlan.

“I feel your magic, Catriona,” Lorna’s strange eyes peered into her own, “You are stronger now. You will only grow stronger from here on out.”

“No,” Catriona shook her head firmly, “No, I don’t want to. I want to go home. I just want to go home again.”

Lorna smiled softly. She reached for Catriona’s hand and held it gently in her own, “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. They would only hunt you down. You are one of us. You have always been one of us.”

Suddenly the door to the main room opened and Lorna’s form turned back into a rat that quickly darted across the floor and disappeared into a hole.

The sheriff stepped over to the cell door and slid a tray inside, “That’s your last meal. Enjoy it.”

“But the judge didn’t sentence me,” Catriona stood up and moved towards the bars, “He didn’t sentence me to death.”

“He doesn’t have to. The townsfolk have sentenced you.”

“That’s not lawful,” Catriona argued, “I demand to see the judge again. I want to prove my innocence.”

“The judge has left.”

Catriona’s face fell and the he chuckled, enjoying her alarm, “Don’t worry, you’ll have a chance to convince the townsfolk that you’re not a witch, right before we burn you on the stake.”

************************************************************************

“Get up,” the sheriff growled, as he woke Catriona from a fitful sleep, “Your stake awaits.”

In a daze, Catriona stood up. She’d been left alone in the dark cell for hours. She’d eventually drifted off into a nightmarish sleep, but it was still better than what she was about to face. She had to pull herself together. She would only get one more chance to convince the townsfolk of her innocence. She had to convince them. Her life depended on it.

The mob that waited outside in the square were whipped up into a frenzy as the sheriff led her out into their midst. They were chanting loudly, obviously quite eager to see her die a most horrible death. It made Catriona’s soul die a little, seeing them like that, but she forced herself to walk, ramrod straight, behind the sheriff, until he reached the stake and lassoed her against it. When he was finished, he stepped to the edge of the platform and waited for the mob to quiet.

“I know why you all are here, and there’s no sense in prolonging it, but I told her that she could say a few last words.”

“Just burn her already!” a woman screeched.

Gathering every ounce of determination and courage that she had, Catriona cried, “I am innocent of all charges! I just want to go back home, that’s all. Just let me go home. I won’t harm anyone, I can promise you that.”

“She lies! The witch lies to us!”

“Set her on fire. If she burns, she’s a witch!”

“No! Please,” Catriona’s voice was breaking as fear swept over her. It was clear that they intended to burn her alive. She frantically wrenched against the rope that tied her to the wooden post, “Please, I beg you, release me! I beg you! I won’t hurt anyone.”

A few men jumped up on the platform and started moving stacks of dried hay next to the post, fully surrounding Catriona, as she struggled against her binds.

Absolute terror gripped Catriona as a man handed a torch up to the sheriff.

“I beg you, please,” she wailed, “I’m not a witch. I’m not. I just want to go back home …”

The sheriff quieted the raging mob once again as he walked closer to Catriona, “I hear by sentence Catriona Glenn to death by burning, for the crime of witchcraft.”

As the crowd’s bloodlust got the better of them, a few jumped up onto the platform and poked her with sticks, jabbing at her until she cried out in pain. A woman, egged on by her friends, leaned in close to Catriona and spat into her face.

The sheriff gestured for them to back away, “The witch dies now!” he bellowed, as he held the lit torch against the rushes. The flames took immediately, racing through the pile and reaching across to the next.

As the flames grew taller, Catriona screamed and screamed until she had no breath left. The cacophony of sounds suddenly faded away, and all that was left was the licking flames of yellow, orange, and red. The fire was mesmerizing, almost hypnotic even, as it drew her gaze, but Catriona’s will to live was a force to be reckoned with.

The fire was at her feet now. Her skin was slick with sweat and it was unbearably hot as the black, acrid smoke billowed all around her. She closed her eyes and imagined herself flying above it all. The air was clearer up here, and the breeze was gently carrying her along. She felt light as a feather. She flapped her wings, feeling the wind lift her up, up, until she was soaring among the clouds. She was free.