Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery

by Brom

But this belief, this absolute conviction that this evil they were doing was good, was God’s work—how, she wondered, how could such a dark conviction ever be overcome?

The serpent closed in, closer and closer, its lethal promise igniting something deep within Abitha’s breast: the primordial need of every creature that has ever been hurt by another—the need to bite back. A hard grimace set on Abitha’s face. “If it is a witch they want,” she hissed, “then a witch they shall have.”