She looks at each one of her companions, filled with the most peculiar fondness. How did this happen? A czarownik with a tree for a heart, a meddling house-spirit, a rusałka with a newfound conscience, and Liska herself, a mere village girl, all living under the same semi-sentient roof. Each more unlikely than the last, yet they have been strung together like a necklace of rowan berries, threaded by fate or God’s will or something even wilder.
