The Spell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . page 2

“No,” said T, “I hear the birds singing. I hear the brook gurgling. I do not hear any moaning.”

A listened again. “I think it’s coming from over here,” he said, turning from the path and walking deeper into the woods.

T listened carefully as he followed A. “I hear the moaning,” he said, “it comes from there.” T pointed to a dark patch of bushes.

A ran forward and T followed. There on the ground was an old woman. She was holding her foot and softly moaning.

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