Then she was standing before the chief, grasping his throat as gouts of dirty swamp water issued from his parted lips, an impossible geyser, his eyes popping as he shuddered. When she let go, he fell still, water trickling gently from his mouth to seep into the soil.

The others scattered, the wind carrying off their screams in their desperation to escape.

Another burst of smoke from the crackling flames, and Clementine skittered off again.

Jonah stood beside Wind Walker, both frozen with shock.

The moment of silence was broken when Jonah remembered what Clementine had said about him—and Meriday.

They had told Meriday to stay in the cabin and not to come out, no matter what she heard. Naturally, she had pressed her ear against the cracks in the wooden wall to listen to what was going on outside. She heard drumming and chanting but could not make any sense of it, so she retreated to her bed, where she sat playing with a doll her mother had made of straw. She was content in her play until she heard the door creak open, but it was dark inside and she could not make out anything but a figure in the doorway, outlined by the fire still burning outside.

“Come, Merry child,” said the figure, holding out a hand. “I promise it will not hurt.”

There was nowhere else to go—only one door. When her mother walked over to her, where could she have run?

But the hand she took was cold, with the muculent feel of a tree root that’s been submerged for many years, and though this sodden woman was her mother, yes, she was afraid.

By the time Jonah arrived at their cabin, he knew something was wrong.

The door hung askew like a yawning mouth, inviting him into the darkness within. His flickering torch revealed a floor covered with muddy footprints and no sign of Meriday except her doll, which lay abandoned on the floor.

Jonah let out a sound like a wounded animal. Wind Walker, adept at tracking, knelt down in the dead, wet leaves and told Jonah to follow him.

They tracked Clementine and Meriday into the swamp, far enough that Jonah lost all sense of where they were. When he found Clementine and Meriday standing hand in hand at the bank of a root-choked river, he shouted for his daughter.

“Daddy!”

But Clementine did not let go of her hand, and now Jonah could see the two small flames hovering in the air.

“Let her go,” said Wind Walker. He took the torch from Jonah, who found himself too afraid to move, to startle his wife, or whatever she had become.

“My daughter will be free,” said Clementine. Meriday did not struggle but stared at her father, eyes wide as dreadful moons.

“You cannot listen to the witch,” said Wind Walker. “She is an evil spirit. Now let go of the child.”

She only tightened her grip.

Wind Walker thrust the torch into Clementine’s back.