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Morghan was cold.  She shivered, unwilling to open her eyes to the weak light that fought its way through the thin curtains covering most of her window.  She knew by the light that it was too early to get up yet, though it wouldn�t be long.  Instead, she lay in the warm place in her bed she had created during her sleep, trying to think of a way to get the extra blanket at the foot of her bed without exposing herself to the chilled air.  Without realizing it, she had opened her eyes while thinking, and was staring through the patterns the sunlight made on her wall in the manner of one who was totally spaced out.  As she fell back to reality, her focus caught on the almost-shadows that laced the streaks of sunlight that escaped the curtain.

Should those sun-spots have shadows, Morghan wondered as her mind unfroze and began to wake up, if they came from the unblocked part of my window?

Frowning, she sat up in bed and felt like a porcupine as goose bumps exploded along her body.  She literally dove for the blanket she had been pondering a few minutes earlier, glad she had folded it like a paper fan so it flowed from its stack as she pulled it around her body.  She gave a short sigh of irritation at the weather and slid her legs out from under her blanket and over the side of her bed nearest the window.  She took a sharp breath as her toes touched the freezing floor, and drew her legs back up upon the bed, swinging them down on the other side where she remembered her slippers were.  Then, blanket wrapped about her, she shuffled around the bed to the window and pulled the curtain to one side.

The small glass window was covered with frost.  Morghan�s first thought was �Wow.  It�s so beautiful!� but �Oh no!  The frost will ruin the crops!� was hard on the first thought�s heels, and before Morghan was even finished thinking �beautiful�, the second thought had caught up and shot the first one down.

Making her way as fast as she could in slightly large slippers to her aunt�s room, Morghan first slammed into the door because of lack of tread on her footwear before pounding on it with her fist and shouting:

�Aunt Eliza!  There�s frost this morning!�

Morghan waited as there came from the bedroom the sounds anyone would make when awakened from sleep earlier than they�d like to an arctic morning by a shouting youngster.  Eventually the door opened to reveal Aunt Eliza with her angular face and gray hair, already dressed in her drab clothing and disapproving expression.

�Well-� she began, then changed what she was going to say in a split second, �Morghan!  You�re not dressed yet?  What were you thinking?  You knew I�d want to start in the garden ASAP if there was frost, and it will be you�re fault if you catch a cold!�

Morghan�s aunt herded her back to her room, still raining reprimands on her.  After dressing hurriedly, Morghan clomped noisily outside to the garden, a tan wool shawl thrown hastily around her shoulders and a scarf to bind up her white-blond hair clutched in her hand.  Aunt Eliza was already past the herb garden and inspecting the tomatoes.  Morghan made her way more slowly along the straight paths, adjusting her shawl and efficiently hiding her light-colored hair under the faded brown scarf.

�The tomatoes can be saved if we harvest them now,� Aunt Eliza said, not looking at Morghan as she went on the survey the string beans, �Also the sunflowers, though they�ll last another frost.�

At that moment Aunt Eliza stood up and looked at Morghan, shivering in the wintry air with a quickly evaporating cloud issuing from her reddening nose.

�No baskets?� she exclaimed, �Honestly, Morghan!  You�d think your brain was frozen along with the ground!�

Morghan was sent scurrying gratefully back inside the slight warmth of the cottage she and her aunt lived in for baskets, snatching along the way some mittens, a scarf, and a pin to hold her coverings on while she worked.  As soon as she was back outside, she was set to work harvesting as much in the vegetable garden as was salvageable.  Surprisingly, everything but the underground vegetables were edible, so Morghan had a very busy morning as her aunt seemed determined to harvest everything in the 15� by 20� garden by noon.  Morghan found that as the day warmed slightly and there was no breeze, she could discard her scarf, though she kept her shawl on.

When Morghan finally finished the early harvesting, about half an hour from noon, there came the sound of hoof beats from the road.  Morghan looked up interestedly, for it was seldom that Morghan got to see other town members other than on Sunday, when everyone was obsessed with God and boring.  People came often enough because Aunt Eliza was the town healer, but she usually had Morghan simply make tea and then hide herself if it wasn�t urgent, or fetch her basket of essentials and then keep house until she returned.

Morghan�s aunt had heard the animal�s sounds too.  She calmly lugged the last basket of vegetables to the back door before going inside.

�Oh, and Morghan,� she said as she paused with the door half open, �Move these all to the cellar and start packing them away.  When you hear me return, start supper unless I tell you otherwise.�

�Yes, Aunt Eliza,� Morghan dutifully, if wearily, replied.  She watched her aunt nod crisply before turning and shutting the door behind her, then dragged her basket over to the door, since her aunt wasn�t there to reprimand her for it.

The hours her aunt were gone went slowly, spent in the half-light of the cellar.  Morghan�s work eventually slowed down as she drifted into a fantasy she had begun some days ago, while weeding the garden she had just garnered.  She became so lost in her dream world that she failed to notice her aunt�s return, or her impatient waiting at the top of the stairs for her to come back to earth.  It was only when her aunt coughed and said her name warningly that Morghan started guiltily and put the last tomato on the shelf with it�s brethren.

Amazingly, Aunt Eliza sighed and sat down on the top step.

�Sit down, Morghan,� she commanded.  Her voice hadn�t softened at all, unlike her expression and bearing.  They were now as hard as say�rock, instead of diamond.  Morghan clumsily sat down on the dirt floor, always astonished by, but hungry for these moments of rare kindness from her aunt.

�You�re fifteen now, Morghan,� her aunt went on, �almost sixteen.  You�re daydreaming has to stop.  Eventually you�ll get married and your husband will want a dedicated, hardworking wife.  Lord knows you�re different enough, so we must make up for that in other ways.�

Morghan looked away as she always did when her odd complexion of tan skin, sky-blue eyes, and white-blond hair was brought up, but only for a moment.

�You didn�t get married,� Morghan said hurriedly, rushing on before her aunt could stop her like always, �I don�t want-�

�Morghan!� Aunt Eliza exclaimed, winning the battle.  But not the war, Morghan thought as the older woman came to crouch beside her, �Morghan, like I said, I know you�re different, everyone knows you�re different!  But there has been talk of witches in town, what with the frost and Farmer Gerrath�s sick cows.  Salem even has some young girls tormented by them!  But if you�re not careful, and act as normal as possible, you will be suspected!�

The warning flew right by Morghan�s head and up the stairs to freedom.

�So it was Gerrath who was calling?� Morghan exclaimed, �Why didn�t you take me with you?  You know I�m good with animals, and I want to-�

�Weren�t you listening?� Eliza screamed into Morghan�s face, blowing her top, �If you do not even try to act like a human being instead of half a savage Indian, and half a daydreaming child, they will accuse you of witchcraft and kill you!  You will never be any kind of a healer, you will be dead!�

Morghan sat silent in shock as her aunt Eliza got up and stalked out of the cellar, breathing hard and fighting to regain her unbreakable composure, one that had just shattered like glass into a million pieces.  Morghan felt the tears come, but let them trace wet tracks down her cheeks as she contemplated the future her mother�s sister had just predicted.  For the first time, Morghan felt a tinge of fear of her neighbors.  She knew it was almost inevitable that she would be accused.

I�ll just have to prove it to them, she thought, I�ll manage to convince them not to try the water test, and I already know the Lord�s Prayer by heart, thanks to Aunt Eliza.

Even so, she knelt down on the dirt floor in the half-gloom amid the turnips �n taters, and prayed.




Morghan felt only a marginal amount of fear as she walked silently behind her mother�s sister to the church on Sunday.

Surely this shows that I am not a witch, she thought as she came into view of the town square, going to a house of God to worship.

Irene, Farmer Gerrath�s daughter, was waiting for them at the chapel�s door.  Morghan had never liked the stuck-up, beautiful girl.

�Service has been postponed,� she called to them, �There is a meeting in the town house instead.�

For a moment, she looked like she wanted to say more, but then her dark eyes glittered viciously and she flounced into the town house with a smirk on her face.

Morghan glanced at Aunt Eliza, sure that she wouldn�t like whatever waited behind the oaken doors like a cat dislikes a dog.  Aunt Eliza simply walked on, face a little paler and lips a little thinner than usual.  They entered through the heavy wooden doors, temporarily blind in the sudden change from unblocked sun to unlighted room.  In that moment, Morghan was seized by both arms and dragged forward.  She put up no fight partly because the element of surprise still had her stunned, and partly because instinct had taken over when her mind froze, and was in the opinion that struggling would be futile.  She was deposited at the foot of the mayor�s desk just as he said, �Put her down, she�s no witch yet!� which confirmed her guess for the meeting.

�Morghan C�tlyn Smithson, you are accused of the crime of witchcraft, by, well�many of the towns-members but mainly by Irene Goodlin,� Mayor Blake said, abandoning formality for succinctness, and trying to not to show how unhappy he was to be here, �Is there anyone who would speak for you?�

�I can speak for myself,� Morghan answered quickly, overriding her aunt before she could also condemn herself to a trial by supporting a probable witch.

Does she want to be hanged? And she scolds me about acting normal�Morghan thought before Irene�s clear, confident, and slightly prissy voice interrupted her thoughts.

�I still do not see why this trial is necessary,� she proclaimed.  Morghan got up slowly and dusted herself off, fairly sure she knew what was coming next as she listened to Irene�s grown-up way of whining, �The devil himself has branded her one of his with her unnatural looks.  The proof is there before you, if you make her remove her hat.�

�I don�t see how the way I was born should convict me of witchcraft,� Morghan interrupted, knowing the answer anyway and hating it.  She felt the familiar stirrings of anger prompted by unfairness, and ignored them, �I cannot help the way I was born.�

�No normal person is born with her colors reversed,� Irene retorted.

�No normal person is born as malicious as you!�  Morghan silently cursed her lack of control over her own anger, and struggled to douse its flames as the mayor said, �This is getting us nowhere.  Let�s just test her by water and get it over with.�

�Water won�t work,� Morghan interjected quickly, seeing death by drowning or hanging looming almost inevitably in her future, �If I take a deep breath to hold underwater, then the air in my lungs will make me float.  If I don�t take a lungful of air, I�ll drown.�

�She�s just trying to avoid the test,� Irene began, probably annoyed that the possibility that Morghan would talk her way out seemed to be getting bigger.

�Then you go first!� Morghan interrupted, nerves and anger making her snap.

�Stop!� thundered the mayor, �Morghan, you have a point.  Irene, she will still be tested, you needn�t stick your nose in.  We�ll have her say the Lord�s Prayer.  If she�s a witch, she won�t be able to, as we all know that witches can�t pray to God.  Morghan, begin.�

Morghan licked dry lips as she knelt on the dusty floor.  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, putting the reality the trial away so nerves wouldn�t literally kill her, and began.

�Our Father, who art in Heaven��

With the first breath, she felt a faint tickle as she inhaled the town house�s dust.  As the irritation gradually increased, she increased the speed of the prayer, but wasn�t quite quick enough.  By the time she�d reached �deliver us from evil�, she was fighting to get the words out.

�For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory,� Morghan managed in the strained voice of one resisting a sneeze, �A-�

Everyone was totally silent, completely focused on the drama before them.

�Mchoo!� One of those thoroughly unique noises that comes of speaking and sneezing at the same time emitted form Morghan�s mouth.  There was a pause.

�I don�t suppose-� Morghan began doubtfully.

�I told you!� Irene screamed, �I told you!  See?�

�I sneezed on the dust!� Morghan managed to be heard above the rising hubbub in the building.

�Witch!� Irene screamed, successfully interrupting everyone, �If God was on your side, He�d have let you finish before the sneeze!  If God were on your side, He�d have given you normal looks!  If God were on your side, you�d have a father!  But He�s not, and we know why!�

At that, Morghan lost it completely.  She managed to lunge over to Irene and give her quite a good slap, outrage and fear goading her on, but then the same people who had dragged her to the front now dragged her back towards the doors, so she had to content herself with obscenities.  She saw Aunt Eliza�s paper-white face, and knew she shouldn�t have blown her top.

She had no right, Morghan thought, absolutely burning with hatred, No right to bring up my parents!

Shoved ungracefully into one of the two dark cells her town boasted, Morghan was left to let her anger burn itself out and give way to self-reproach, fear, and memories.




�Tell me about my parents, auntie.�

A little light-haired girl climbed into her aunt�s lap, to sit listening intently to the stories her aunt made up about them.  She was beautiful commoner, he was a merchant; She was a merchant�s lovely daughter; he was a sailor.  The story always varied, but it always ended with her mother coming to America, pregnant, and her father�s promise to join them.  Only later, when she was ready, would she hear the true story of her parent�s scandal, and of her mother�s flight to America and her father�s death.


Morghan woke suddenly, driven out of dreams back to the hard floor on which she slept by a yodeling call.  Soon other calls joined it, some the same, but others screams.  She bounded to the barred window and looked out frantically searching for the direction from which the Indians came.  She could see the blood-red light of fire, and assumed that that was where they were.  Full of fear that sleep had temporarily numbed, she hunkered down below the window, and waited.

She did not have long to wait.  Presently, she heard the rasp of the sliding bolt on the door being driven back, and stood up, assuming it was either one of the townspeople come to finish her off before fighting the Indians, or the savages themselves.  The door swung open and Aunt Eliza stood there.  Morghan had a moment to gape before her savior spoke.

�Quickly,� she hissed, �The Indians are no match for the militia, but they will provide a diversion.  Hurry!�

Morghan hurried.  As she walked through the door, Aunt Eliza pushed a bundle into her hand, and then followed her out.  When they reached the edge of town, Morghan faced her aunt.

�Are you coming?� she asked, surprising herself by feeling a little lost.  Just a day ago she had been daydreaming of the time when she would be free of her tyrannical aunt.

�No,� her aunt replied, �I will only slow you down.  Anyway, the others will not suspect me of freeing you, and if I do come, it will prove my crime.  I�m not the adventurous one.�

They both stood in silence for a moment.  Then, Aunt Eliza caught Morghan in a tight hug.

�I�ll miss you,� she said.

�I�ll write,� Morghan promised, �As soon as Irene and her crowd smarten up.�

Morghan stepped back as her aunt released her, tears in her eyes.  Then, slowly, she turned and started walking away.  Remembering something, she whirled back.

�Aunt Eliza,� she called after the other woman�s retreating back, �did you prearrange this with the Indians or something?�

Morghan�s aunt looked shocked.

�No!� she replied, �I wouldn�t wish harm on anyone, even Irene!  You should know that!  God was on your side, that�s all!�

Morghan smiled ruefully.

I almost agree with you, she thought as she turned back to the woods, I wouldn�t hurt anyone either.  Except Irene, maybe.  Aunt Eliza, you�re an angel.

Morghan�s smile grew dreamy as she imagined what she�d do to Irene, and she increased her pace as winter�s chill penetrated her skin.

God help me, she thought, feeling her pack, only one blanket.  I�m going to be cold.