My cart gave out at Vask, where the causeway ends in a field of cut reeds, and I finished the journey on foot behind a boy leading a goat. He stopped at the last stile. Past it the path is edged with pig jawbones laid end to end, each one scrubbed white, and it runs across Dole Moss to a one-room house with a sod roof. The chimney is a stack of iron pots with their bottoms knocked out. Smoke comes from the top pot only. The witch has lived here longer than the Vask parish book has pages.
She is tall and bent at the neck, as if the doorframe taught her to stoop. Her hair is the gray of wet ash and falls past the backs of her knees, knotted with dried burdock heads. Her fingernails are black from steeping peat, and she trims them at each new moon. The parings are what she leaves behind: curved black crescents the length of a thumb joint, scattered along the path. The Vask carters read them like tracks. Fresh ones bend. Old ones snap.
The garden has four rows. Nettles, bog myrtle, leeks gone to seed, and a row planted with nothing but spoons, bowl down, handles up, which she does not explain. A blackthorn hedge closes the lot. When I visited in April it stood a stride inside the fence. In October it stood outside, and the fence post it had passed was split from top to root. She eats eels from the cut, baked in bog-myrtle dough, and the bones go on the path with the nails. Maren Fitch, who keeps the Vask dairy, says the witch has not slept since the winter the dam failed. I sat up two nights and never saw her lamp go out, which proves only that I nodded off before she did.
Every Vask house sets a saucer of vinegar on the sill on nights the moss glows green. Maren says a witch cannot pass a smell that sharp without sneezing, and one who sneezes loses her place in whatever she was saying. Children are taught to hold their breath past the stile. It does nothing, but it keeps them from talking. On every visit the count from the last stile to her door has been the same: ninety-one paces.
- Classification
- Hedge witch, human-shaped spellcaster
- Habitat
- Peat moss and bog edges
- Danger
- Moderate
- Size
- 6 ft, stooped to about 5 ft
- Activity
- Nocturnal
- Realm
- Marsh-edge farmland
- Binomial
- Strigula paludis
- Diet
- Eels, bog-myrtle bread, nettle broth
- Temperament
- Watchful, dry, easily slighted








