So she waited, year after year. Keeping to herself in the house. She'dcollect wood in the forest and tend the animals. She had little, butshe had enou...h. Mostly she practised the lessons Demdike had taughther.When she had surplus, which was rare, she'd wander into Wheatley Lane.Knocking door to door hoping to sell.It was late summer when she saw him. She'd been going door to doorselling. It hadn't been a profitable day. She had found a spot in theshade down the side of the Butterworth's. “Well, what are the right words, anyway?”The bare facts seemed to be the right choice. He placed his hands on his computer keyboard and decided to start typing and follow wherever the words would take him. He paused as his fingers touched the keys. He wondered if honesty was borne of a need for confession or sense of duty—or maybe he was letting it all go because he felt the loss of the ability to control events. Whatever—he cast off the question. Maybe he’d figure it out later when the e-mail. More

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