“They’re all about babies. And, there’s a section on twins. Oh, look. One of the stories is local.”

Before she could be stopped, Cindy found the page and started reading aloud.

Once there was a man and his wife who lived together in a hut on the side of a mountain. They had baby twins, both of whom the wife nursed tenderly. One day, while the husband was far away with the flock, the wife was called to the house of a neighbour who was dying. She did not want to leave her two babes, as she had heard tell that faeries were roaming the land. Still, the neighbour was in dire need and so she went.

Lauren’s pulse started racing. Goosebumps all over. The woman’s face, her matted hair.

Choose one, that’s what she’d said. Choose one or I’ll take them both.

Don’t leave them alone. Ever.

Cindy didn’t look up. She kept reading.

On the way back she was dismayed to see a pair of old Elves of the Blue Petticoat crossing her path. She ran all the way home but when she got there saw that the twins were still in the cradle, and all was the same as when she had left.

But all was not the same. From that day forward, the twins did not grow at all, and the man and his wife began to suspect that something was wrong.

“These are not our children,” said the man.

“Whose children can they be?” asked the wife.

You’ll never know the difference. I can make sure they look just the same.

She picked up Riley, who’d started to fuss. She’d know him anywhere. She held him close and breathed him in. My baby.

They were both very sad for a long time, until the wife decided to seek the help of the wise man, who lived in a cave in the place they called the God’s Graveyard a few miles hence.

It was the time of year for reaping, and not long until the oats and rye would be harvested. The wise man, hearing of the woman’s woe, told her this: “You must clean out an old hen’s egg and boil up some potage in it, then go to the door as if to give it to the reapers for supper. Then, listen for what the babies say.”

“But they are too young yet to speak,” said the woman.

“If the elves have changed them, they are as old as the hills, and more,” said the wise man.

“And what of my own two babes?” she asked.

“If the babies speak, you will know that they are changed. But also that your own are close by, with the elf-mother.”

“And if they speak, and they are changed, what am I to do?”

“You must change them back,” said the wise man. “You must throw them into the river.”