The witch breathed through her green nose, her nostrils dilating. "Then you will be granted the gift of witch-hood. Forever. A new life. And powers."

"And I'll be able to save lives, like you said?" Tira reminded her.

"Of course you'll have the power to do that," said Mistress Crowfoot. "The power to change … the power to save … the power to create… Come."

She beckoned Tira to follow her from the cottage. Gloom the imp began to caper after them, but the witch clicked her long, green fingers and he retreated. The two of them went deeper into the woods this, time, further than the wild fairy ring. They emerged into a clearing where the moonlight was strangely bright. Much brighter than it should be. Shining bright as day. There was magic at work here.

Was the formation of the plants in this clearing strangely regular? Like it was some sort of weird symbol?

"Stand in the centre, Tira," said the witch.

Tira stood in the middle of the clearing. She felt a strange tingling all over.

Mistress Crowfoot was standing some distance away. Did she look a bit nervous? "Gaze up at the moon."

Tira looked up at the moon. It was so strange. The moonlight was blinding… She felt bathed in its ethereal radiance.

"Repeat after me: I dedicate myself to Shekka, Dark Moon Goddess. I let her power flow through me so that I will be transformed. In her embrace, I am reborn as her creature."

Tira repeated these words shouting them out loud at the moon.

Suddenly she found herself paralysed. She couldn't move or speak. Vines burst forth from the ground and wrapped themselves around her. She couldn't even scream and they fastened themselves to her arms and legs and bit into her with thorns like fangs. She felt a burning sensation spread through her… her bones were on fire and her flesh was bubbling. A burning smell filled her nostrils…

Her vision became hazy and filled with green light. She was spinning round and round, caught in a maelstrom of lurid lights and agonising sensations. Swirling round and round and round…

Then she was released and she collapsed onto the floor of the clearing, gasping and sobbing. She looked at her hands. They were bright green. She pulled up her sleeves. Her arms were green. She rolled up her ragged dress. So were her legs. It was hard to see, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see that the tip of her nose was green too.

"Stand up." Mistress Crowfoot's voice rang out across the clearing.

Tira scrambled to her feet, her sobs subsiding.

The witch held out her hands. "Welcome to your new existence, sister witch. Who you were before, and your old life, no longer matter. We are both creatures of Shekka, the Dark Goddess. True magic courses through our veins… through our very beings..."

Tira ran up to Mistress Crowfoot and hugged her. She stiffened. She wasn't keen on being hugged. Tira had forgotten in the heat of the moment. "Sorry." Tira sniffed.

"Now we are both witches, I must teach the basics of your gift, quickly."

Although she was still dizzy and felt a bit sick, Tira felt a warm glow inside… she was close to her Mistress now. They were both witches.

"Now we're both witches, I can help you too," said Tira eagerly, gazing up at the taller green woman. "I can be a friend who understands you. You're not alone."

"Alright, girl, don't get schmaltzy," admonished Mistress Crowfoot. "You are a witch now, so act like one."

That was a bit harsh. Tira dropped her gaze. As she lowered her gaze, she was struck anew by how odd her green hands were and wondered with a pang of unease, what her face looked like.

00O00

Back in the cottage, Mistress Crowfoot lit a candle and opened one of her heavy tomes. Tira looked at the mirror. She felt a little queasy about how weird her reflection looked. She couldn't carry green skin like the older witch. Tira thought she looked kind of ridiculous with her bright green skin and her yellow hair. She touched her green cheek and her reflection did too. She pouted, and so did the green girl in the mirror. Her lips were a sort of grey… actually, they were almost black.

Mistress Crowfoot clicked her green fingers. "Come, Tira. Don't gawp at the mirror. I didn't recruit you for your looks. See this spell."

Tira hung her head and numbly looked at the page as she was instructed.

"As witches, we can challenge nature. We can twist the creatures of this world into wondrous shapes."

The diagram showed incantations and hand gestures a witch had to use for basic transformation spells. Starting at the beginning, the instructions were for changing mice. Mistress Crowfoot presented Tira with a mouse in a tiny cage, and ordered her to try a transformation spell.

The mouse stood up in its cage, whiskers twitching.

"Don't worry, little mouse," murmured Tira, bringing her face close to the mouse in the cage. "I'm gonna do something nice."

She picked a spell, and made the weird gestures with her green fingers over the cage, muttering a garble of strange syllables. A puff of glittering smoke filled the cage. When it cleared, Tira could see that the mouse had changed from grey, to rosy pink. She grinned at it. "Awww, you look so pretty, little mousey. You can be called Pinky." Tira made a kissy face at the pink rodent, which ignored her and continued sniffing around its cage.

"Good, for a first attempt that wasn't as bad as it might have been. You do know, you have the power to give it two heads, or eight legs?"

Tira wrinkled her nose in semi-disgust. "Um… That would be cruel. I want to make the little mouse happy."

"Whatever, girl," said Mistress Crowfoot, rolling her eyes. "Now look at this."

She pointed with a long, green finger to the small crystal ball on a spindly table. It reflected the candlelight, giving off weird, prismatic lights.

"It's very nice. Sparkly," said Tira politely.

Her Mistress tapped the smooth surface of the orb and took Tira's green hand in her own. "Look deep into the crystal, Tira."

The rainbow colours inside the crystal seemed to swirl and Tira could see the outline of a face appearing. The face was definitely not her own reflection, because it was not green. The face became more distinct. A boy's face. Tira recognised him. That cheeky boy from the market place who had been mean about Mistress Crowfoot. He had his eyes shut now, like he was asleep.

Mistress Crowfoot tapped her long, green nose. "I understand from my familiars that you know this boy, and that he is … impertinent. I can teach you something to fix that."

"How?" Asked Tira, eyes wide.

"Look at this," said the other witch, flipping through the pages of the heavy volume on the table.

"Ooh! Making magic dolls. I wanna try this," said Tira grinning.

Her Mistress dumped a blob of wax on the table. "See his round, baby face. His pathetic snubbed nose."

"Yes, he's kind of adorable," said Tira. She blew the image in the crystal a kiss. "Sweet dreams."

The green face of the other witch crinkled into a scowl. "Never mind the sweet dreams. Concentrate hard on him and make a little doll of wax in his image. Clear?"

"Clear as crystal," said Tira grinning. She concentrated hard on the boy's face and moulded the wax with her green fingers.

"His clay doll form is taking shape," said Mistress Crowfoot. "Meet him in the marketplace tomorrow and try it out."

00O00

Tira wasn't sure how her Mistress arranged it, but when she went to the marketplace he was there, even though there was no one else. It wasn't market day after all. Her Mistress had given her pins that could be stuck in the doll to punish the boy, although Tira couldn't guess why that would be necessary. The other witch's cat slunk after her, staying within the trees.

"Hey!" She said, grinning.

He gave a start at the sight of her. "What happened to you? You're green and horrible. Like a witch!"

Tira pouted. "I am a witch now, but I'm not horrible. Look, I have something for you."

She held out the doll she'd made to look like him.

He narrowed his eyes at it. "A doll that looks like me? What sort of freaky magic is this?"

"It has a magic connection with you," said Tira. She tickled the dolls belly and the boy laughed, doubling up. Tira stuck out her tongue. She could see the tip of her own tongue when she stuck it out, and it was a really dark green.

"You'd better tell me your name," she said. "I'm Tira, and I'm a witch."

The boy straightened up, his cheeks flushed pink from laughing. "I'm Joe. What are you going to do with your creepy magic doll?"

"Not creepy. I'm giving it to you as a present, Joe. Perhaps you can stop being mean about witches now?"

He frowned. "Why'd I want a doll that looks like me?"

"Well give it to your mother then. She would love it. It's like you, but small, like a baby."

"You think my mother wants your doll?" Joe scoffed.

Tira sniffed. "Well it would be a nice gesture. My mother's dead, so I can't do anything for her anymore." She blinked as tears came to her eyes. That did happen when she thought about her mother.

"Alright," said Joe, taking the doll. "You're a really weird witch."

"Am not." Tira was embarrassed to feel tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. She often cried when she thought of her mother.

"Oh, don't cry," said Joe, patting her arm. "The doll was a sweet thought."

Tira moved to hug him, and he allowed her to put his arms around him, although he didn't hug her back.

"I'm gonna get good at magic, then I can save lives," said Tira. It was important that people should understand that before calling her magic creepy, or making remarks about her green skin.

"Alright, you dizzy dreamer." Joe sniffed at that moment, as though he'd smelled something weird. "You have a real witchy smell about you. Like rotting fruit. Worse than the old witch."

Tira put her hands on his shoulders and pulled a face at him. "You're cheeky. Don't you think before you talk? You could hurt someone's feelings."

He stuck out his tongue at her. "What're you going to do? Put a spell on me?"

Tira smiled at him. Perhaps he was starting to appreciate her talents. "I can put a spell on you. I could turn your hair pink. You'd be even cuter."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you making fun of me?"

She blinked. "Noooo… Why'd you think that? I like you."

They stared into each other's eyes. His eyes were grey, and if Tira were asked to describe them, she would have most likely compared them to a cloudy day, although she would have struggled to think of how cloudy exactly.

"Anyway," said Joe finally, "it's been… good to catch up, but I'd better be going."

"OK. Take care," Tira kissed him on the cheek, and he went away with the wax doll of himself under one arm.

00O00

Next, Tira wanted to visit her father and Morag and check how they were. She hammered on the door and her dad answered. She flung her arms around him, squeezing him tight and rubbing her face against his whiskery cheek.

He froze, his eyes staring. Probably because of her green skin. "It's alright, Daddy. I'm a witch now. I'm apprenticed to Mistress Crowfoot and I'm really coming along. You can see I look like a witch now. I'm gonna save lives."

"What's this?" Morag's screeching. She came stalking into the hallway, glaring.

"So, Angus. Tira has disgraced us. She has become a daughter of the Dark Goddess, Shekka. She is no longer your child. See her green skin. An outward sign of an evil nature."

Tira blinked. "Why are you always so horrible to me, Morag? I only wanted us to love each other."

"I wasn't horrible enough," said Morag with a sneer. "Look how you've turned out. Angus, don't talk with a creature of darkness."

Tira felt a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach as her dad withdrew from her embrace.

"Don't look at her or touch her," said Morag.

In obedience to his wife, Tira's father retreated down the passageway.

"Daddy…!" Tira stood there in shock, her green hand outstretched.

"Can't you see he's made his choice?" Morag hissed. "As have you, witch. Begone."

Tira's bottom lip quivered and then she burst into tears and ran away, straight back to Mistress Crowfoot's cottage.

Mistress Crowfoot tried awkwardly to comfort Tira, patting her shoulder as the younger witch threw her arms around her. "There, there. Enough's as good as a feast, girl. Now you see that you can only rely on other witches to be there for you."

Tira's body shook with her sobs. "I – I can't believe Daddy doesn't love me anymore. I just can't."

"So, what is the explanation?" asked Gloom the grimalkin, capering around the two witches. "Why don't you use some thought?"

"Silence, Gloom," hissed Mistress Crowfoot. "Tira… dear…" she said in a softer voice, "if you improve your witchcraft, you can show your father it is a good thing and he may accept you back."

Tira hiccoughed and nodded, staring up at her Mistresses green face through a veil of tears.

After that, Tira studied hard, learning about human anatomy and how magic could treat wounds and infections. Mistress Crowfoot insisted it was necessary for Tira to know curses as well, to be able to understand more fully how magic interacted with the human body. Tira also learned the incantations and weird hand gestures for a variety of other topics as well. One such topic was the affinity witches have with other supernatural beings and creatures and how a witch could bind them to her. Her Mistress also told her more about their Dark Goddess, Shekka.

"Shekka won't accept men into her fold," said Mistress Crowfoot. "But that doesn't mean that men cannot gain magical powers by other means. There are men who have traded favours with the Beast – a demon from the pit – to gain limited use of magic."

"Why won't Shekka accept men?" asked Tira, wide-eyed. "Isn't that unfair?"

The other witch glared. "Hush, don't question your Goddess. She remade you in her image." She breathed through her long green nose as she stared down at Tira, who hung her head.

"Now as for supernatural beasts – imps come in a variety of shapes and temperaments. Two grimalkin brothers are my familiars. Gloom and Darkness. Darkness is my favourite. The strong one. He has the grit to pay back my enemies. Gloom is too inoffensive for his own good. I doubt he could really make anyone hurt."

From the sound of that, Tira thought she liked Gloom better!

00O00

Tira still went to the marketplace to sell remedies. She wanted to see Tom and Martha again and see how they were, so one evening after market day, the young witch hurried over to the farmhouse.

A light was still shining in the window of the farmhouse. Tom and Martha invited Tira in warmly, and she hugged each of them in turn. Martha looked sad when she gazed at Tira's face, for some reason. The witch sat down with the farmers who shared their meal of rabbit stew with her.

Copper the dog came in and Tira went into transports of delight, petting and fussing over him, tickling his belly when he rolled over.

"It's right good to see you again, Tira," said Tom. "You see, everyone else has stayed clear of our farm since it happened."

Tira looked up from the soppy old Copper. "Sorry, since what happened, Tom?"

"Since we were cursed by Mistress Crowfoot," he said darkly. "Remember we refused to sell her the orchard? Well since then, things have gone wrong. My best ploughshare broke. The milk turned sour and the cattle are dying."

"That can't be true! Mistress Crowfoot would never do that," said Tira. "If there is bad magic at work, she's the one we should ask for help."

Suddenly, a sudden movement caught Tira's eye. It was in the shadow of the kitchen. A grimalkin, like Gloom, but a slightly darker shade – kind of blue-grey rather than blue. This imp also had longer claws. It scampered over to a pail of milk in the corner and dipped a claw into it. The milk curdled right away.

"A grimalkin. It taints anything it touches. Now you see the nature of Mistress Crowfoot's revenge."

"Stop that now!" Tira shouted at the imp.

"You cannot order me around," gibbered the imp. "I'm not my spineless brother. I am Darkness."

So this was Darkness. Gloom's no-good brother.

Darkness leapt at Tira, brandishing his claws!