The Lost Witch by David Tysdale

someplace deep, and in order to hear she needed to be quiet,
to stop the chatter in her head. Could that be what multitasking was really about? Working with
different levels of her mind at the same time?
    No wonder Philamount found monobrains tough to be around. They never stopped
chattering long enough to hear anything. Except Hal wasn't like that. Hal could listen. The
professor would definitely like her father-not.
    Carole was so taken by these new ideas that she failed to notice how narrow the trail had
become. It was so narrow, in fact, that her glides began to resemble short, brisk steps. She also
missed the two forms keeping pace, until rustling leaves drew her attention to their shadows
moving through the woods.
    She slid to a stop.
    The forest had grown unnaturally quiet. She immediately checked for signs of fog,
before realizing what she was doing. Although this wasn't the Dark Wood, something was
definitely amiss.
    She saw movement again, this time ahead and much closer. Two rangy looking dogs
stepped onto the path, barring her way. Gripping her staff firmly with both hands, she raised it
like a club.
    The dogs, obviously wild, didn't appear the least bit timid.
    "I don't suppose you're brainy animals by any chance?"
    The dogs bared their teeth.
    "Well, I don't want any trouble, so please be kind enough to let me to pass."
    The larger of the two lowered its head and, growling, began to inch forward.
    "I don't think so!" Carole barked, whacking her staff against the nearest tree.
    The dog barely flinched.
    "Uh oh." She scrambled into the lower branches of the tree.
    Both dogs moved beneath, snapping at her feet. She climbed higher.
    "Now what? I can't wait here all day. But maybe..."
    As she stared at the dogs she imagined a rabbit hiding in the nearby underbrush. The
larger dog's ears perked up. She concentrated harder, imagining with greater detail. Both dogs
looked towards the woods. She visualized the rabbit twitching with fear and racing away from
the trail. With a bark, the dogs gave chase.
    Where the dogs had stood, was now only trembling underbrush.
    "Lucky for you I'm not traveling with a certain cat by the name of Brutus!" Carole called
out as she jumped out of the tree and raced off.
    She saw nothing more of the dogs, but kept a wary eye on the woods and a firm grip on
her staff just the same, relaxing her vigilance only after bird and rodent sounds returned to the
forest. Soon shadows began to lengthen. Evening was on its way.
    Until now Carole hadn't given a thought to where she was going to spend the night, but
with wild dogs about, she must focus on protection first and comfort second. Before she had
begun to search out a suitable site, the trail opened onto a small meadow containing an old
wooden shack and a stone walled well. The well was covered by a peaked roof. Carole walked
towards the decrepit building, hoping her worries for the night were over.
    She couldn't help but notice that a good deal of the meadow grass around the shack had
been recently trampled and torn up. She looked closer. The dirt beneath was covered with prints,
mostly dog, but some pig as well.
    Dogs don't usually travel in pairs, she realized with a start. They travel in
packs. She broke into a cool sweat, thinking how lucky she'd been.
    What about her pigs? Had the dogs had been here before or after Runt and Smoky had
passed through? At least one of the pigs--Smoky by the size of the prints--had been moving in
the right direction. She couldn't see any sign of Runt past the building.
    She followed the larger set of hog tracks across the meadow and over to where the trail
started up again. It looked like Smoky had got away, but what about Runt? Carole crisscrossed
the area a few more times, even walking a short way up the trail. She found no further sign of the
little pig, but at least there wasn't any blood. Reluctantly, she returned to the shack.
    The roof was sagging and boards were missing here and there, but at least the