It also explained why her parents hadn’t gotten rid of it. Witchety took her work to heart. She would have been deeply hurt if the effigy—her Watcher—hadn’t been kept inside the home. Her parents had hated it enough to hide it from sight, but not enough to waste Witchety’s effort.

“Does it have a significance? The deer skull, I mean?” She hoped that, at least in a small way, understanding the statue might erase some of the unease she felt around it. Just the memory of the shape made her palms itch with sweat. Marsh had approached her again, and she buried her hands in his fur, grateful for the distraction.

Witchety’s hazy eyes seemed to hold countless secrets under their heavy lids. The corners of her mouth twitched in a near-imperceptible smile. “All things do. The Watcher is only made from things with the most significance, though. That’s why it works.”

Marsh, still panting, nudged Margot’s hands, and she realized she’d stopped petting him.

“Some things are special,” Witchety continued. “Keys to beloved places. The bones of an animal that never lived a day in captivity. Tiny gifts and unblemished flowers and stones that make you feel a particular way. They may not have much power on their own, but weave them together with care and they create a breathing tapestry. That’s what the Watcher is.” She lifted the talisman. “What this is. Things that are special enough to keep you safe. At least a little.”

In that instant, Margot believed her. The bird skull’s black eye sockets bored into her with something that felt too close to knowledge. She had to look away.

“Keep the Watcher close to your doors,” Witchety continued, turning back to their path. “And don’t stray too far from your home after dark.”

They circled the property’s perimeter over the following hour. Witchety’s breathing was labored by the time they returned to their starting place. She poured a final few drops of the holy water and then corked the bottle, now mostly empty.

The trip had drained her more than Margot felt comfortable seeing. Witchety had been small when she arrived but seemed to have lost another inch along the way. Marsh, always hugging her side, gazed up at her adoringly, but with the tinge of worry that animals carried when they sensed something was wrong with the people they loved.

“That will do us for today,” Witchety said, returning the bottle and talisman to her pouch and tucking it back under her shawl. “I’ll return in another fortnight.”

“Let me give you a lift back to your house,” Margot said, remembering that Witchety had walked up the drive. “I need to go shopping in town anyway.”