Laurie had not planned on being out in the woods after the sunset, but it set so quickly in the autumn and her body was still stuck on summertime. The tall trees were still laden with leaves enough to hide the position of the sun from her that by the time she noticed how much dimmer the light was getting, she knew it was too late.

Still, she wasn’t exactly lost… she knew the way back to her car, or at least she knew what direction it was in. She headed back, feeling confident that she’d be quite near the edge of the woods by the time it was well and truly dark. On the other side of the trees was the road, and if she came out too far north or south she’d just follow it back to where she’d parked.

She felt a tiny prickle of fear, small and distant, but she pushed it away. When she’d been a little girl, the thought of wandering the forest paths close to sunset had always been deliciously thrilling in the way that only fear can be. Everybody knows the witch lives in the woods. If she catches you there after sunset, she’ll eat you right up.

She wasn’t a girl anymore, of course. She didn’t fear a witch in the woods. She simply had an adult’s understanding of all the perfectly mundane but also perfectly dangerous dangers that the witch had symbolized. A daytime hike was a pleasant way to spend a Saturday afternoon, a good way to get some exercise and take in some fresh air. A nighttime hike in the woods was a good way to get lost or to trip down an embankment or startle some wild thing that if it did not exactly have a taste for girl-flesh could still have claws and teeth.

She wasn’t a girl anymore, and if she didn’t have her younger self’s sense of supernatural terror she also didn’t have her younger self’s sense of direction. As a child she’d walked the paths of the forest so often that she ceased to be aware of them. Now as the twilight deepened and blossomed into darkness she wasn’t sure was on a path. The setting sun had provided some sense of direction, but it was gone.

“Lost, dearie?” a voice said from behind her.

Laurie just about jumped out of her skin. She might have, if her feet hadn’t been rooted to the floor in terror. She might have ran headlong into the night without sparing a glance behind her. She couldn’t. She heard the sound of feet crunching on fallen leaves and a light moved into her peripheral vision. She fought the urge to close her eyes, fought to calm herself.

The figure who stepped into her view was a woman who stood tall and proud, not a twisted and hunched old crone but a statuesque woman dressed more sensibly for hiking than Laurie was. Her bangs showed blonde in the light of the electric camper’s lantern she held. Laurie was relieved to see another person, she was relieved to see the pleasant glow of that artificial light, but most of all she was relieved to see the kindness in that face. Not a witch after all.

“Oh, dear,” the woman said. Her voice was soft and kind, motherly-going-on-grandmotherly. At a guess Laurie figured she was in her late forties to a very graceful fifties. “I didn’t startle you, did I?”

“I’m sorry,” Laurie said, feeling silly. “For a moment, I thought you were… you know, the witch.”

“Oh, I am.”

“You mean you’re a Wiccan or something, right?” Laurie asked.

“No, I mean I’m the witch of the woods,” the woman said. “The original, accept no substitutions. Established 1798.” She jerked the hand holding the electric lantern and suddenly it was old and made of brass, a fat wax pillar candle flickering in the place of the bulb. “There. You see? Just a bit of magic, so we can skip all the tiresome ‘You can’t be, witches aren’t real.’ nonsense and get onto the next bit. Come now, close your mouth before all your breath escapes.”

“I… uh… this isn’t what I expected.”

“Of course not,” the witch said. “It’s magic. It isn’t what anyone expects.”

“I mean… you,” Laurie babbled. “I thought the witch of the woods would be all gnarled and warty and… I’m sorry, I don’t mean…”

The witch just laughed. It was a pleasant laugh, full of honest joy, and it put Laurie at her ease.

“Oh, dearie, no, that’s a myth,” the witch said. “An unfortunate stereotype, as people say these days. Sometimes I look a bit older and sometimes I look a bit younger, but I like to take care of myself.”

“So I suppose you don’t eat children, then, either?”

“Oh, I should think not!” the witch said. “Can you imagine why I’d want to? So much work, so little meat… no, I prefer a heartier meal.”

Laurie was suddenly aware that even though the fear had subsided, she still couldn’t move her feet… and just like that the fear was back.

The witch’s kind face suddenly became serious and impassive. With long quick strides, she walked back past Laurie, heading back in the direction from which she’d come. A snap of her fingers and Laurie turned on the spot.

“Come along,” she said. “If you’re good, I’ll let you stir the pot… for a little while, at least.”