Rain was after soaking us. The sky was lead. We had to shelter.

‘I’s wet to bone, Evey.’

‘So’s I, Dill. Won’t kill you none.’

She coughed. Little toad. Ever I must look to her, ever she must play. When we made the coven, then she would know better.

Croake Farm crouched on the hill. We watched it, as the rain combed our tired heads.

‘Evey…’

‘Shush it, Dill. Wait and listen, will you?’ I pulled her hand for quiet.

She did then, with a sniff. And there, the farm windows gleamed like the yellow eyes of a cat in the night.

I listened. The rain fell. Dill’s hand moved in mine. I must nest this mouse else the rain would take her. And that wouldn’t be. I swore to Mother I would look to her. She was just a child. Where I was a child no more.

A shadow moved cross a window. Chance we had then, to find warm. I pulled Dill on, and she followed, humming spite the cold.

We ran through the mud and the dark. Light from a window fell to the cobbles, slimy under our toes. A tree creaked like it moaned to be let in. I hammered the door, its sound echoing about that muddy yard. The wood was wet on my palm.

No sound, only the rain, hissing.

I knew this farm. Had cured stock here with Mother last summer. There was no danger. Still I steeled and tighter drew Dill’s hand. I went to knock again.

A bolt shot and the door cracked. A man’s face, I knowed him and he knowed me. His eyes moved to the dark, then to me.

‘What… What do you want?’ He was after being fierce, but I smelled fear upon him.

‘Shelter,’ I said over the rain. ‘We need shelter… James Croake.’

I had found his name, and the old face looked up, eyes blinking.

‘I am Eveline. This is Dill.’ Water clogged my tongue.

‘Hello, James Croake,’ Dill coughed.

‘I know who you are.’ His eyes darted from us to the pressing dark. ‘I cannot…’

He made to close his door. My hand went to hold it.

‘Please…’ I trembled, but I had to be strong. Had to find a way.

Dill coughed again. Croake looked down at her.

‘Where is… your mother?’ He knew it as quick as he said it.

I stepped closer, felt the light and warmth upon my face.

‘They came. They…’ My throat jabbed, like I had swallowed a needle. ‘She is gone…’

Dill’s thumb stroked over my shaking fist.

The old man stared at me with eyes rheumy and blue. His tongue turned with his thoughts. If he let us in, I knew that we would talk on it.

Then silent, he stepped back to open the door wide. Dill darted through, quick as you like, a little mouse happy to be home, stretching her arms through the warmth.

‘I thank you kindly, old man Jim.’ Even a smile rising upon her tired face.

‘Come, then, if you’re coming.’

He waved a hand, gnarled as the tree creaking in his yard. I nodded for his relenting, and I stepped into Croake Farm.