“I notice you’re limping a bit,” said Tiffany. “Do you, indeed? Then stop noticing!” The shout echoed off the cliffs, full of command. Mistress Weatherwax coughed when the echo had died away. Tiffany had gone pale. “It seems to me,” said the old witch, “that I might just’ve been a shade on the sharp side there. It was prob’ly the voles.”
