Witches. I’d heard children from the mainland whisper the word like a secret from the time I was little, playing in my mother’s shop as she worked. I’d always thought that strange, because on Saoirse, the word wasn’t a secret. It was deep magic that ran through the blood of every woman on the island. It seeped into the earth of the orchard, its leaves unfurling every spring, falling to rot every autumn before turning back into the ground.
