The surface of the lake bubbles. I hold my breath. Will she come closer? Will she show herself, even as the day brightens and she could so easily be seen? I take my knife and swiftly cut the snaking rope that has nourished my infant these long months. I wrap the child in the woolen blanket and hold her to me as I stand. Together we watch and wait. There is a stillness in the air, as if the very woods were also stopped from breathing. The birds hush. Ripples spin out across the lake. And now, silently, with such grace as to move the hardest of hearts to weeping, the Afanc rises up from the deep. She is even more beautiful revealed in the early sunshine! I lift up my newborn, holding her high. She neither wails nor whimpers. She is not afraid. The mother-of-the-lake lowers her noble head to inspect this tiny new prophet.

‘She will keep your secret as I have done,’ I promise.

The Afanc sighs, looking deep into my eyes a moment longer, and then moves back, causing gentle waves to lap at me. Without a single splash she slips beneath the surface and is gone.

I kiss my child, holding her close to me again. ‘You are fortunate indeed, my young witch, for the blessing of the Afanc is the greatest protection of all.’

Chapter 16

16

TILDA