With only the full moon for light, an elderly woman picked her way through the strangely quiet forest. She wore roughly made wooden shoes and carried a large basket.

In the moonlight, tree branches seemed like monstrous claws, and an owls' hooting filled her with blind fear. But the darkness did not dissuade her; she knew where she was going.

Finally, she reached a small hut in the center of a clearing. Cheery in the daytime but in the moonlight, the stream running by the hut became the river of the dead, and the garden seemed bare and empty. To the woman's eyes, the door to the hut looked like the jaws of a beast.

She took a step forward. There is no way back, she thought, scratching at the door.

Several minutes passed before it opened, and an old crone—like a fairytale witch—appeared in the doorway. Her gray hair fell uncombed around her shoulders, and a wart sat on her chin. Her once-white nightgown was dirty and patched. But it was her black eyes that distracted the old woman. They were bright, intelligent and surprisingly youthful, Like the eyes of a young girl, she thought.

"What do you want?"

The woman offered her the basket. "This is for you."

"I asked what you wanted." The crone made no move to take the basket. From out of nowhere, a large, white cat appeared at her feet, rubbing against her legs. It looked up at the woman with red eyes. In the wavering light from the hut, the cat seemed like an evil spirit that had come from hell to take her soul.

She did not retreat. "I want you to help My Lady."

"Help her? How?"

"You know all about it, Moraga. Lady Lilian has been in a bad way for three days now. Her childbed fever will take her to her grave. The doctor came and gave her a cleansing and let her blood, but the fever won't let go. I don't want her to die."

The old witch shrugged. "But what does your lady wish for?"

"She wants to die." The woman looked down. "I know she does, but I..."

The witch's face softened. "I understand. Even with all her faults, she's like a daughter to you. You love her. Let's see that basket."

"Yes. And this." As the woman took a purse from her belt, something in it jingled. "This is also for you."

"Good."

The witch didn't bother to look at her fee. She put her hand under the woman's chin and lifted her face so she could see her eyes.

"I will give you something—something strong. You will mix it with milk and give it to her to drink. Then, you'll need to sit by her bed and call her by name or call her by the name you used for her when she was small. Talk to her about anything, but keep talking. If she decides to live, she will come back to you."

"What if she doesn't?"

The corner of the witch's mouth twitched. "My remedy can bring a soul back into the body, but it won't work if the soul doesn't want to stay. Do you understand?"

The woman nodded.

"It all depends on you. If you get through to her, she'll come back. Otherwise, she'll be gone forever, and nothing will help."

The woman nodded again. "I will do it."

"Then wait here; I'll bring you the remedy."

The witch disappeared back into her hut, leaving the woman on the step. She was still afraid of the forest noises and the trees stretching out their claws to her, but she waited for the medicine, thinking of the walk back through the forest.

When I get home, I will do everything as the witch instructed. I don't want to lose my girl. I will call her name—Lilian, Lily, Baby. She'll come back to her old nanny. She just has to.

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