Her eyes flew open, bright and burning. ‘I know what you want from me,’ she said in a choked voice. ‘You want me to admit it.’ She could hear their whispers in her ears, feel them tugging at her sleeves. ‘FINE! I’m a witch.’ Her voice broke. ‘I’m a witch.’ The wind stopped, and all was still. The mist parted, revealing the edge of the forest. Beyond it, across a rolling plain of wild grass, loomed the knife-edge of a cliff. As they treaded onwards, all Rose could see was endless grey sky. She tasted brine on the wind, salty and tangy on her tongue. Waves crashed somewhere far, far below. A
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