Into the Witchwood

MÉABH MCDONNELL was born in Dublin and grew up just outside Loughrea, County Galway. She has worked with the Clare People newspaper as sub-editor and children’s books reviewer and founded and edits cindersmagazine.com. She has an MA in journalism.

Méabh has always loved nature and folklore and the mysterious ways they intertwine. During lockdown, her daily walks through Kylebrack Woods got her wondering if anyone or anything was watching her – perhaps a Witch?

This edition first published 2024 by The O’Brien Press Ltd, 12 Terenure Road East, Rathgar, Dublin 6, D06 HD27, Ireland.

Tel: +353 1 4923333; Fax: +353 1 4922777

E-mail: books@obrien.ie

Website: obrien.ie

The O’Brien Press is a member of Publishing Ireland

ISBN: 978-1-78849-385-7

Text © copyright Méabh McDonnell, 2024

The moral rights of the author have been asserted. Copyright for typesetting, layout, editing, design

© The O’Brien Press Ltd

Layout and design by Emma Byrne

Cover illustration by Erin Brown

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilised in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including for text and data mining, training artificial intelligence systems, photocopying, recording or in any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

The paper used in this book is produced using pulp from managed forests. Printed in the UK by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc.

Into the Witchwood receives financial assistance from the Arts Council

Published in

Dedication

To Niall, for holding my hand while we walked through the woods.

The Rules of the Wood

1. Do not leave the path.

2. Do not go back the way you came.

3. The only way out of the wood is through it.

4. Do not take anything that doesn’t belong to you.

5. Do not eat or drink anything that is given to you.

6. But do not refuse anything that is offered to you.

7. Do not tarry or get distracted.

8. But help anyone who asks for it.

9. Remember, the wood lies.

Chapter One

An Unconventional Birthday

Nana was doing magic again.

I could smell it through the gaps in the windowframe. The scents of dust, smoke and burned feathers were trickling out through spaces in the rotting wood. It smelled like autumn bonfires: full of excitement and possibility. I sucked in my breath and held it, crouching low beneath the glass.

Tell-tale flashes of witchcraft illuminated the tiny front parlour before my eyes.

There was nothing inside that looked any different to anyone else’s Nana’s parlour – aside from the crystal ball that sat in the middle of the table. The crystal ball that was now glowing white and hovering in the air.

My eyes fixed upon Nana’s round figure, poised behind the ball. Her silver hair was floating up on either side, as she suspended the crystal between her fingers. It was casting strange light onto

Into the Witchwood her skin, making her look older and younger all at once.

The midsummer breeze tugged at my jacket as I gripped the flaking concrete sill. This was not how normal girls spent their thirteenth birthdays. They spent time with their friends, shopping, listening to music and talking about ... I didn’t know what other girls talked about. We didn’t talk about anything in our house. Not since Mum disappeared.

I closed off the thought and refocused on Nana. The crystal glowed even more brightly. My heart beat inside my throat as the ball sailed towards the ceiling and slowly began to spin. I stared, transfixed, as its colour faded from white and began to bleed green at the edges. The green colour seeped into the centre of the sphere, darkening until it was almost black. It looked like it was collapsing in on itself. It was a forest of endless trees. The wood that loomed at the end of our road. The wood that was standing silently at my back.

The wood that had spent the past six months haunting my dreams. I shuddered, even though the day was warm.

The wood was the home to all my bedtime horrors. Nana and Mum had spent years terrifying my sister and me with stories of the frightening creatures that lived inside.

I had always been unsure about Nana’s folktales about the wood. I never knew which parts to believe, until six months ago, when our Mum disappeared inside. And then, I knew just how true the stories were. The stories about the Witch, her woods and her haunted well.

An Unconventional Birthday

My eyes pulled back to the crystal ball. The woods were rustling, like someone, or something, was attempting to escape. Nana’s jaw was gritted in concentration as she watched the scene unfurl. She twisted her left hand as if to get a better look.

I gasped as darkness erupted from the centre of the ball, as though someone had spilled an ink bottle inside. New colours swirled out from the centre, reforming to show a covered stone well.

My heart caught in my throat. My fingers started to shake, and once again, I felt a chill down my spine. I had heard the stories about the well all my life, and I knew what kind of horror lived inside.

It was the Witch. The reason that we were never to walk home after dark. The reason we were never to talk to strangers. And the reason we were never, ever, to set foot inside the woods.

If the Witch was the reason our Mum had disappeared inside those same woods six months ago, then I finally understood what had happened. No one won against the Witch.

Nana’s face was frozen in a mask of fear as she stared at the well at the centre of the woods. Inside the crystal, the lid of the well wobbled, shook and cracked down the middle. A white hand erupted from the centre.

I started backward and my foot caught on a stray twig. The crack echoed around the garden. Nana’s head whipped towards the sound. I ducked low beneath the windowsill. My heart

Into the Witchwood hammered inside my chest as Nana’s footsteps shuffled closer to the window. She would see me hiding beneath the sill. And then she would know I had been spying on her.

I glanced upwards and my eyes caught on the long boughs of the crab apple tree that spread out across the front of her house. I took a deep breath, focussing entirely on the branch right above me. Just as the window was beginning to creak open, I whispered, ‘Eitilt.’ ‘Fly.’ In a moment, I felt the wind catch beneath my feet and lift me up into the sky. After all, I was a witch too.

My hands reached out and grabbed onto the knotted tree, just as the window opened wide and Nana’s grey head peered down and below the sill. I pulled myself into the cover of the tree as she glanced upwards, silently hoping she couldn’t hear the thunder of my heartbeat.

She peered down and around the path again and huffed in the direction of the house next door, and the sound of the boys who had just moved in playing soccer. Then she withdrew back into the house, closing the window with a curt ‘clunk’.

I let out the breath I was holding with a shaky sigh, allowing myself to collapse against the tree’s sturdy trunk. I was surprised the spell had worked; I hadn’t tried that one outside before. That was the thing about magic – it didn’t always do what you wanted in the moment that you wanted it to. The spells didn’t have to be said in Irish, but Nana always said that they worked better that way, especially in the rain.

An Unconventional Birthday

Nana had stopped teaching me magic the moment that Mum disappeared. But of course, I knew she hadn’t stopped doing magic herself – I could smell it every time I walked past the house on my way to school.

A small voice piped up from a branch behind me. ‘You are going to be in soooo much trouble if Dad finds out you were doing magic!’

I nearly fell out of the tree. I just managed to hang on to the branch I was balanced on as I spun around to see my little sister’s face pale peering up through the pale pink blossoms.

‘Lila!’ I hissed, ‘What have I told you about following me?!’

‘I’m not following you; I was climbing the apple tree.’

‘And what made you decide to climb the apple tree in the first place?’

‘It’s the only way to get over to Nana’s without magic!’

A big branch of the tree hung right out and over Nana’s high garden wall, perfect for climbing over. It had taken me weeks to figure that out. Weeks of trying to sneak across to Nana’s house, after she stopped talking to us and locked her garden gate.

‘So you were following me then.’

‘I knew about the apple tree before you did – how do you think I watched you before?!’

This stumped me for a moment – I hadn’t realised Lila had been spying on my magic lessons too. It didn’t matter.

Into the Witchwood

‘I don’t care how you followed me before – I just want you to stop following me now! Stop following me, stop copying me and just leave me alone!’

Lila’s small face crumpled. I’d gone too far. She was only three years younger than I was, but sometimes it felt like ten. I turned back into the tree trunk, trying to push down the lump that was gathering at my throat.

‘Just go away, Lila,’ I mumbled into the bark.

I heard her huff and sigh. And then the scrape of her leggings against the tree and her soft landing into the grass.

‘You win. I’ll leave you alone, but I was only coming over because I wanted to warn you that –’

‘ROWAN!’

My head snapped up at the sound of my name. Our Dad’s voice boomed from across the garden wall. Lila was right – I was in so much trouble.

‘Rowan! Get back over here!’

I shot a dirty look back to Lila, ‘Is this why you followed me? So you could tell on me to Dad?’

‘NO! I followed you so you wouldn’t get caught!’

‘Lila! Enough. We’ll talk about this later. Rowan, get down from that tree!’ Dad was waiting impatiently, his foot tapping on the ground. ‘You know what I said about using M-A-G-I-C!’

I was about to retort that I knew exactly what he said about using magic when Nana’s front door swooshed open and her small,

An Unconventional Birthday round figure came racing out. Our Nana’s hair was long and silvery, hanging down around her shoulders. Her black skirts billowed at her ankles and her sleeves were flowing bells. She looked like every cartoon caricature of ‘witch’ you had ever seen. And I loved her for it.

‘Who’s making all this noise?!’

My heart slammed against my chest. Nana hadn’t spoken a word to us since the days after Mum disappeared.

‘Nana!’ I called out, dropping from the apple bough in a lessthan-graceful tumble. ‘I wanted to talk to you!’

Nana’s ice-blue eyes flashed as her gaze flicked from Dad to Lila and then to me, to finally rest on the ground. ‘You don’t want to talk to me, Rowan.’

‘Rowan, come on,’ Dad called from the wall. I ignored him and ran over to where Nana was standing, her hand braced against the door frame.

‘I do want to talk to you! I need to talk to you – about Mum and the Witch and the woods –’

Nana’s face snapped back to mine. ‘No! I’m not telling you one more word about any of it!’

‘Nana! Please!’

‘NO!’ The leaves surged in a swirl of green around her feet. ‘I’m not talking to you about magic, the woods, the well or the Witch ever again, Rowan! It’s because of all that we’re in this mess; I’m not making the same mistakes with you or with Lila! So you can

Into the Witchwood stop asking. You can stop hovering outside my door, and you can go away and leave me alone!’

The words hit me like a gut punch. Nana turned on her heel, walked inside and slammed the front door. It rattled so hard that birds flew out from the chimney stack. I stood there for a moment, shock and pain coursing through my body. Then the light rustle of Lila’s footsteps came from behind me. She didn’t say anything, but I felt her take my hand in hers. I ignored the burning in my eyes.

‘Rowan. You heard her. Come on.’

We both climbed back up the tree, along the big branch, and dropped down outside Nana’s wall. Dad was waiting, his hands resting on his hips. ‘You have to leave Nana alone, both of you. She doesn’t want to see you.’

‘No!’ I sniffed, ‘Nana is the only one who understands. You don’t know anything about making magic.’

‘I know enough. I know it’s dangerous, and yet you keep disobeying me by using it.’

I took a step closer to him, practically shouting. ‘Is that why you forbid us from talking to Nana? Because of the magic?’

Dad’s voice took on a softer tone. ‘Rowan, I thought you’d understand, after what happened with your Mum, that magic –’

I froze and whispered, ‘I don’t want to talk about Mum.’

‘We wouldn’t have to if you didn’t insist on performing magic and putting people in danger!’

An Unconventional Birthday

‘I don’t “perform” magic! I just do it by myself!’

‘That doesn’t make it any more acceptable! Magic is dangerous, Rowan, how often do I have to explain it to you?’

Lila let go of my hand and shrank back from us.

‘You don’t understand anything!’ I yelled. ‘About the woods, about magic and especially not about Mum!’

Dad wiped his hand over his eyes, like he was suddenly very, very tired.

‘Rowan, I’m not going to talk to you about this anymore. I’m just not going to discuss it with you. Especially not today. Not today, on your birthday, when we actually went to the trouble of organising a party for you.’

He gestured towards our house in the distance, at the end of the road. Coloured bunting and balloons hung in the doorway and on the garden gate.

I looked angrily at them both. ‘I told you, I don’t want to do anything for my birthday this year!’

‘Well too bad! You’re getting it whether you like it or not!’

‘I told you she wouldn’t like it ...’ Lila mumbled under her breath.

‘For heaven’s sake, Lila! You made the cake!’

I jumped in between the two of them. ‘Don’t turn on Lila just because your plans to turn me into a “normal” girl aren’t working!’

Dad threw his arms in the air and stalked towards the house. ‘No. I’m refusing to listen to this anymore. You’re going home

Into the Witchwood right this second. And then, tomorrow, we’re going to stay in the city, while I look for a new place for us to live.’

I spun on my heel again, ‘What?!’

Lila stared at Dad in disbelief. ‘No!’

Dad waved his hands in front of his body. ‘I don’t want to hear it. It’s happening, whether you like it or not. I’m getting you girls away from all of this … this … magic! And away from whatever it is that happened to your mum. We’re getting away from this place, away from these woods. We’re going to start over!’

The breeze caught my hair and rustled the leaves of the crab apple tree. Tears were welling up hot and fast behind my eyes. I could barely look at him.

‘I won’t go. You can’t make me!’

Dad seemed to sag a little. ‘I don’t want to make you do anything, Rowan, but you’re going to have to accept that we are leaving. That’s the end of the discussion.’

‘I wasn’t ever part of the discussion! You can’t take us away from this place, not while Mum is still here!’

He started to turn away, but paused, looked back over his shoulder and said, ‘Your mum would have wanted you to be safe, away from the woods.’

It was the final straw. I froze where I stood and whispered, ‘We have no idea what Mum would have wanted. Because she’s not here!’

Dad sounded incredibly tired when he spoke next. ‘You’re going to have to realise that you’re not the only one who lost her, Rowan.’

An Unconventional Birthday

His words hit me deep. It was too much to face all at once. I turned on my heel and ran.

I raced down the cobbled pathway in front of Nana’s, barely registering the uneven stones – all I could hear was Dad’s threat that we were going away. Away from Nana. Away from magic. Away from the woods. Away from Mum. I couldn’t let myself think about it.

So I ran as hard as I could, the countryside blurring into the background. Shouts from Lila and Dad echoed across the valley. I pretended not to hear.

I don’t know when I started crying, but the tears were blurring the trees even more. I couldn’t properly see where I was going. I sprinted around the corner, past the brambles, and launched straight into something solid, which sent me flying to the ground.

Chapter Two Farid

‘Ooof!’ I hit the ground hard, my shoulder bouncing off the tarmacadamed road. I looked up and saw that the thing I had hit was, in fact, a person. It was a boy, tall and gangly. His hair was dark, his skin was brown and he was wearing a black hoodie and jeans. He was lying in a heap, struggling to get up, just like me. His head looked like it was framed in silver, lit from behind by the glow of the sun. His dark hoodie and bright trainers looked strangely out of place against the stone walls and tufted hedgerows. For a moment his eyes rested on mine. They were the colour of peat, deep and golden at the centre. He blinked and I blushed.

‘Sorry,’ I mumbled and struggled to right myself. He shook his head and smiled.

‘No, it was my fault. I thought you saw me, standing on the road.’ His voice was rich and deep, with a city accent. He got

up and reached out a hand to help me. I took it, levering myself against him to get to my feet. Once I was straight, I let go and tried to hide my bloodshot eyes. I brushed the dust off my jeans with a quiet, ‘Thanks.’

He moved back slightly, shifting from one foot to the other. ‘You’re Rowan, right?’

I nodded, still embarrassed. He was gazing at me, like I was a mystery he was attempting to solve.

‘Isn’t it your birthday today?’

My head snapped up, embarrassment forgotten for a moment. ‘How did you know that?’

He jerked his head to one side, surprised by the strength of my reaction. ‘Um, your sister Lila called over to our house yesterday and invited me to the party. That’s actually where I was going right now.’

He gestured towards our house in the distance.

‘Oh,’ I said, mollified. He didn’t say anything, just kept watching me. Eventually, I mumbled, ‘I didn’t really want a party.’

He laughed, ‘Yeah, that’s kind of obvious. People who want parties don’t usually run away from them.’

My head snapped up, defensive. ‘I’m not running away.’

He raised his eyebrows, ‘Isn’t that why you were racing down the road at top speed?’

‘No,’ I said, looking down at my grubby trainers.

‘Oh? Then were you going to visit your grandmother?’

Into the Witchwood

I glanced back at him, suspicious. ‘What do you know about my Nana?’

‘Nothing ... Just that you visit her a lot.’

‘Yeah, well, not lately,’ I mumbled.

He bent his head down, attempting to meet my eyes. I didn’t oblige. ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he said. He looked too sympathetic. He must have known about Mum being missing. Everyone who lived on this side of the valley did.

I was worried he was about to start talking about her, so I changed the subject. ‘You’re ... Farid, right? You live across the road from my Nana?’

He smiled back, nodding, ‘Yeah. We moved here a few months ago. You go to the girls’ school in town, don’t you?’

‘With my sister, yeah.’

Farid’s smile widened. ‘Yes, Lila!’

He looked across at me awkwardly again. ‘I’m not sure it was the best idea to invite me to your party, but I think she wanted to give you some kind of normal birthday.’

His smile was getting a little too understanding again. I frowned. ‘I’ll have to talk to her about that.’ I turned to head back towards the house.

Just as I was about to start walking the wind changed direction. My nostrils filled with the smell of leaves and pine needles. My head snapped over to the woods, looming high above us. I hadn’t realised how far I had run. I’d never been this near the

entrance before. Not with Nana’s warnings about the Witch.

I stared at the sea of trees, transfixed. It was like they were calling to me, drawing me in. The volume of the world seemed to have been turned down – all I could hear was the woods. I took a step closer to them, straining to listen. Faint whispers rustled past my ears. Voices were calling, ‘Rowan …’ in a voice that sounded so, so familiar.

Mum.

I gasped and stepped closer, reaching out with my hands, until –‘Rowan?!’ Farid’s clear voice cut through the fog. I jumped, turning back to him. It was like the sound had been turned back up and I could hear again. My eyes went to Farid’s hand, gently touching my jacket sleeve.

‘Sorry,’ he said, letting go. ‘Are you okay? It was like you disappeared or something.’

I was still staring at the woods. Had that really been Mum’s voice, calling out to me? After all this time?

‘Rowan?’ Farid said again. I turned back to him, his eyes round and full of concern, and realised I hadn’t answered him, ‘Sorry, no, eh … it’s nothing, I just got, um …’ I glanced at the entrance to the woods, ‘... distracted,’ I finished lamely.

Farid turned towards the woods as well, to the huge trees towered over us. ‘Yeah, the trees here, they’re really something else. I’d love to go inside.’

Farid half-turned his body towards the woods, raising his

Into the Witchwood eyebrows at me in invitation. My stomach dropped and I didn’t think, I just acted. I grabbed his hand and violently pulled him back.

‘NO! You can’t go in there!’

He stopped, shocked into stillness.

‘What?’ He peered down at me. I dropped his hand as quickly as I had grabbed it, feeling my face go red.

‘You can’t go into the woods.’

‘Why not?’ he said. ‘They’re just trees.’

My heart sank. Most people who lived in the valley knew at least a little something about the evil at the heart of the woods. They knew enough to stay away. But Farid had just moved here; no one had told him anything yet. I cast my mind around, searching for a reason that wouldn’t make me sound insane. ‘They, um … do lots of logging and forestry there. All the time. It isn’t safe to walk around. Trees have fallen on people before.’

‘Oh, right.’ Farid’s eyes flicked over to mine and he grinned, quickly, his smile flashing brightly. ‘I thought you were going to say it was haunted.’

My stomach did a flip as I wondered if he had any idea just how close he’d got to the truth. I forced myself to laugh and added, ‘Oh, well, that’s true too.’

He laughed with me, ‘Oh, really? And what do you do if one of the ghosts catches you and drags you in?’

I shuddered inwardly, again forcing myself to play along with the joke. ‘Oh, you know, the usual fairytale stuff: Don’t try to go

back along the road; stay on the path; don’t take what isn’t yours; help anyone who asks for it … that sort of thing.’ I laughed again.

He laughed too, like he understood. Like maybe he wanted to believe in magic too.

‘You can’t go back along the path in a ghost story?’ He quirked an eyebrow at me.

‘Not in the woods you can’t. My Nana always says, the only way out of the woods is through it.’

‘Ahh, I see,’ He nodded sagely, like I’d just told him an interesting fact I’d learned from a documentary on TV. Not the rules of how to survive in the wood.

The magical rules that all who step inside are governed by. And, I thought, as I let my eyes stray back towards the tall trunks of the wood, the rules I would have to follow if I was going inside to rescue Mum.

I sighed and turned back to Farid. ‘I should really head back, you know. It was very nice to meet you. Sorry I almost killed you by not running away.’

He smiled back. ‘It’s fine. I’m glad I met you too. I won’t tell you to try to enjoy your party, but just, don’t be too hard on your sister, okay?’

I raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled again, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

‘I have a sister too,’ he explained. ‘She’s always trying to get me to put down my book and do things with her. And I’m always

Into the Witchwood

telling her no. I figure sometimes, it mustn’t be much fun to be the one always hearing the word “no”, you know?’

His eyes were getting too understanding again. I simply nodded, ‘Thanks, Farid.’ My mouth pulled up at the corners as I said his name. I liked the sound of it on my tongue. It felt the way spells do sometimes, like it could make magic.

He waved back at me and started to walk away. As he disappeared around the bend, I sighed and thought, he could have been my friend. If we weren’t moving away. I wrapped my arms around myself as I turned towards the house.

The woods loomed to the right, an omnipresent shadow. I knew that Mum was inside those woods. I only had one chance to get her out. I had to see what those whispers meant. I stared back over my shoulder into the green mouth of trees. I had to go inside the wood. Tonight.

Chapter Three

Conversations on the roof

Ihuffed as I levered myself up the tree that grew beside the gable end of our house. My canvas trainers pushed up against the moss-coated bark and braced against the tiles, eventually settling on the rooftop. This was my favourite hiding place.

Once I had my legs secured over either side of the roof, I shuffled to the middle, looking out towards the horizon, completely surrounded by the long-armed stretch of the wood. I could still hear the echoes and whispers of earlier inside my head. I strained my eyes peering at them, trying to puzzle out their secrets.

The woods had been the border of our valley for as long as I could remember. But we had never been inside. The Witch was the reason for that. We had grown up with countless stories about trespassing in the forest and disturbing the magic that grew inside the trees. Stories about the Witch, who took

Into the Witchwood children when parents weren’t looking. Stories about eating children’s hearts. Warnings most people had forgotten. But our Nana hadn’t.

She used to say she remembered because once upon a time, the Witch had tried to take her. But she escaped. She told it like it was a fairytale. So we believed it like a fairytale, just another story for bedtime, about the woods and the Witch, about the magic pulsing among the dark trees. But now … I was beginning to think that those stories hadn’t just been made up to scare Lila and I to sleep. They were clues – instructions on how to survive the woods. Because every story followed the same rules.

I pulled out the piece of paper on which I had written them down.

The Rules of the Wood

1. Do not leave the path.

2. Do not go back the way you came.

3. The only way out of the wood is through it.

4. Do not take anything that doesn’t belong to you.

5. Do not eat or drink anything that is given to you.

6. But do not refuse anything that is offered to you.

7. Do not tarry or get distracted.

8. But help anyone who asks for it.

9. Remember, the Witchwood lies.

Conversations on the roof

I pressed the paper into my palm, my lips moving as I memorised. Following these rules was the only way I was going to survive inside the woods. And if we were moving away tomorrow, tonight had to be the night I went inside. I knew Mum was still in there somewhere. I was certain. It was like the moon during the day. I knew she was there, waiting, just out of sight.

I shuddered, a cold breeze blowing my hair in front of my face. My eye caught on the corner of Nana’s cottage. I could have sworn I spotted a small silver head at the window, watching me.

I tilted my head back, attempting to look carefree, staring up at the clouds that moved in little cotton-ball tufts. If Nana wanted to get me off the roof, she would have to come out here and talk to me.

I didn’t turn when I heard scrabbling on the slates. Or when a small voice rang out to my left. ‘You shouldn’t tilt your head back like that. You’ll fall.’

I remained staring, resolutely, up at the sky. ‘Go away, Lila.’ ‘Why?’

‘Because you’re too little to be climbing on the roof.’

I felt her shuffle over to sit next to me. I shifted away, so there was a small space separating us.

‘I’m only three years younger than you. And I’m taller than you were at my age.’

‘Are not.’

‘Am too. I checked the markings on the doorpost.’

Into the Witchwood

‘That’s because you’re always wearing shoes when you do it; I was in my bare feet for those. Anyway,’ I shoved further away from her, ‘I don’t care. I don’t want to talk to you. Go away.’

Lila didn’t take the hint. ‘Why do I have to go away?’

‘Because I said so.’

‘That’s not a good reason.’

‘It doesn’t have to be. Now go away – or I’ll make you.’

I felt Lila move away from me, stung. I guiltily thought she might have been sniffling. I did a mental tally of all the horrible things I had said to her today. My guts squirmed.

‘I don’t know why you’re being so mean to me,’ she sniffed. I stayed where I was, determined not to give in to her, my heart hardening by the second.

‘I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday.’

‘So? What was I supposed to do – stop Dad from throwing a party?’

‘Yes. You were supposed to tell him not to have a party, and not tell him what kind of cake I like.’

‘You wouldn’t tell him! Plus I made the cake! He was going to get you a banoffee one that you’d have hated, and instead I made you a chocolate orange one that I knew you’d like!’

I felt a second, slight twinge of guilt, and then Mum’s face popped into my head, laughing with her hair covered in flour from last year’s baking fiasco at my birthday.

I looked around at Lila, at her curly dark hair creating a dark

Conversations on the roof halo around her head. I frowned at her. ‘I don’t like cake anymore.’

Lila pouted. ‘Not true.’

‘Totally true.’

‘You’d have eaten a cake if Nana made it for you.’

Hot fury rose up instantly all over my body.

‘Yeah, well, we know that’s not going to happen any time soon, don’t we?’

‘I don’t know that! I have no idea why Nana won’t come over anymore!’

‘Couldn’t you ask Dad, if you’re so pally?’

‘Dad doesn’t know either! I don’t know anything about it, because you won’t tell me!’

‘And I told you already, it’s because you’re too little!’

‘No!’ Lila almost got to her feet. I reached out, terrified for a second that she was going to fall.

‘No!’ She shouted again, still seated beside me, ‘I’m not too little! I’m older than you were when you started learning magic! I’m older than you were the first time you heard about the wood and I’m old enough to do whatever it is you’re planning to do to find Mum!’

My stomach dropped. I hadn’t realised Lila knew so much about my plans. I had to try to throw her off the scent. There was no way I could bring her into the woods with me. I brought my head down to look her in the eye.

‘What are you talking about?’

Into the Witchwood

‘I’m talking about whatever it is you’re getting ready for when you lock yourself in the attic!’

‘I’m not getting ready for anything!’

‘Yes you are! You’re doing magic! You’re planning something to do with Mum!’

‘No I’m not!’

‘You are too!’

I raised myself to my full height, standing precariously on the two roof tiles that looked most secure. I towered over her.

‘I am not, Lila! And this is why Nana never taught you magic! Because you’re too much of a baby, who believes everything she sees and jumps to wild conclusions, and who does nothing but cry and whine when she doesn’t get her way!’

I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. Lila pulled back like I’d hit her. She still woke up crying for Mum in the middle of the night. But I couldn’t have her following me into the woods. It was far too dangerous. Better that she hated me.

I knew I hated me and Dad hated me and Nana hated me. What was one more person?

Lila backed away, towards the edge of the house. I could hear her sniffling again. Good. That was good. She wouldn’t follow me if I had made her cry.

‘You know, spending all of your time trying to be angry and keeping your magic hidden and plotting secret plans makes you completely terrible at being a sister!’

Conversations on the roof

I cringed and felt my anger swell up inside me again. It wasn’t fair that I had to take care of Lila. She would have to learn how to take care of herself soon enough.

‘Well maybe I don’t want to be a sister!’

I didn’t watch her drop down to the tree branch, but I heard her muffled, ‘Fine!’

The clouds that I had been staring at started to rumble and opened a few moments later. I kept my face trained upward, letting the rain soak into my hair and mingle with the tears I told myself weren’t there.

I stayed up on the roof until the rain passed. I watched as all the cars drove away, eventually bored by the birthday party without a birthday girl. The engine sounds rattled over the hills, past the dark green bank of the forest. Once again, I felt the inexplicable pull of power at its centre.

As the light started to drift beneath the horizon and the sky was streaked with orange and purple, I clambered down from the roof. My head and my heart were full of my plan to enter the woods, take on the Witch and rescue Mum for good.

I walked into the house, slipped off my soaking trainers and padded through the kitchen, my socks making a slapping noise against the tiles. The birthday cake still sat on the worktop, untouched. I leaned over it to see ‘Happy Birthday Rowan’ scrawled in blue icing. It was messy and starting to melt down the sides of the cake, but I noticed Lila had stuck a tiny little

Into the Witchwood tree next to my name, and painted a flower for herself.

Lila was watching me from the sitting room. But the second I spotted her, she looked away and back towards the television, a deliberate frown on her face.

I felt guilty about leaving her behind. But she was too young. Nine was too little to have to rescue Mum from the Witch. It was something I had to do by myself.

I ignored Dad as I pottered around. I was gathering random supplies from the kitchen, attempting to shove them into the pockets of my shorts without him noticing.

He seemed to be ignoring me too though. I looked around the room and spotted a few plastic plates, covered in remnants of cream and jam. A small pile of presents was sitting to one side of the fruit bowl on the island. I walked over to investigate.

Most were addressed to me, with little cards. But there was one that had no signature on it. It was small and neatly packaged in gold paper, with a blue ribbon.

I took it down from the pile, slowly pulling at the ribbon to undo the knot. Once it came free, the paper loosened. I pulled away the gold crepe paper, layer after layer, to reveal a small compact mirror. It was metal, with a picture of a sky and stars engraved onto it. It looked new, just out of the package. I turned it over to see a pattern of the sun on the other side. It was a pretty engraving. I hadn’t seen anything like it before. I was about to open it when I heard footsteps behind me.

Conversations on the roof

‘I wasn’t sure if you’d like it.’

I turned over my shoulder to see Dad staring down at me, at the mirror in my hands. I looked up at his pale face and the bags under his blue eyes. He looks tired, I thought.

‘I thought it might be nice for you to have something like that, now …’ he hesitated as he looked at me ‘… now that you’re getting older.’

I didn’t know what to say. He seemed awkward with me now, remembering our fight from earlier. I looked down at the compact in my right hand and opened it out. A small, ‘Made in China’ sticker blinked out at me from one of the circular mirror glasses. I stuck a finger in to peel it off, but I snapped it shut as he started speaking again.

‘Listen, Rowan, about the party …’

I met his gaze with my own and he stopped talking, at a loss for what to say.

I waited a moment, frowned up at him and said, ‘I don’t really use mirrors.’

Then I stalked away, out of the kitchen and up towards the bedroom. After I turned the corner, I waited to make sure Dad wasn’t following. Then I stuffed the little mirror into my pocket, where it rattled along with the supplies I had gathered from the kitchen drawers.

Up in our room, I emptied out my schoolbag and forced in as many bars and notebooks and useful things like string and knives

Into the Witchwood and water bottles as I could fit. I pushed it all together and waited for Lila to come up to bed. An hour later, she glided into the room like a sour cat and got dressed for bed facing away from me. Then she slid under the covers without a word in my direction.

I looked over at her, sorry about the effort she had put into the party and even more sorry for the horrible words I had said on the roof. But I said nothing to her. I let her sulk into her pillow, until I heard her breathing get even and quiet. Then I grabbed my bag at the end of the bed and tiptoed out of our bedroom, towards the attic stairs.

I had left the door to the attic slightly open earlier, to leave myself time to escape. I gently pulled down the cord and let loose a breath of relief as the catch came away without making any noise.

I climbed up the stairs, taking each step as silently as I could. Reaching the attic, I swiftly made my way towards the window beside the ash tree, when a tiny voice sounded behind my back.

‘What are you doing?’

I peered around to see Lila staring directly at me. Damn. I was in so much trouble. I glanced towards my bag and the open window. I saw Lila’s eyes follow mine, widening in surprise.

‘Oh my God. You’re running away.’

I shook my head. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘You are. You’re actually running away because you don’t like Dad, or me, and you just want to leave us.’

Conversations on the roof

She let out a massive sniff that I was sure was going to echo around the house. I panicked and moved towards her to shush her.

‘Lila, I’m not running away from you!’

‘Then what are you doing?’

I wrestled with myself. Should I tell her the truth – and risk her telling everyone else? Or should I lie and hurt her more?

I settled on the lie.

‘I’m going ... over to Farid’s,’ I stammered. It was the first name that popped into my head.

Lila stopped walking towards me, confused. ‘Why are you going over there?’

‘He said that I could see his pet fox.’

‘He doesn’t have a pet fox, you’re lying,’ Lila was pouting again. I was grasping at straws.

‘He does, but his parents don’t know about it. It’s a wild one he’s been taming, and they wouldn’t let him keep feeding it if they knew, so he has to hide it in his back garden. I didn’t believe him either, but he said he would show it to me if I came over tonight, so that’s where I’m going.’

Lila’s face was skeptical. She didn’t know whether trust me or not, I could see that.

I looked towards the light downstairs and spoke in a rush.

‘You need to go back to bed, or I’m going to get caught and then we’ll both be in huge trouble.’

Lila considered for a minute, weighing her options.

Into the Witchwood

‘What will you give me if I go back to bed?’

I groaned, ‘Whatever you want.’

‘I want to come with you.’

I shook my head.

‘That’s not going back to bed, Lila. You can’t come with me.’

Lila pouted, ‘Why can’t I come?’

‘Because Farid only asked me. Plus you’re too little to play with a pet fox.’

She bristled, twisting her hands into her pyjama top. ‘Stop saying that about me! I am not too little!’

‘You are too! You’re too little and too annoying, and that’s why you can’t come with me!’

Lila pulled back, hurt and betrayal crossing her face.

‘Fine. I don’t want to play with a stupid stray fox anyway.’

I leaned towards her, worried that I might have made her too angry, ‘You won’t tell anyone where I’ve gone though, will you?’

Lila let out another massive sniff. I looked around at the dust-covered attic and worried she was going to start sneezing.

‘I won’t tell if you promise to ask Farid if I can come over and see the fox tomorrow.’

I groaned again, ‘Ugh, fine, I’ll ask, that’s all though – he could still say no.’

Lila crept towards me holding out her pinky finger, ‘You promise?’

I rolled my eyes, but grasped her little finger with my own,

Conversations on the roof quickly, ‘Yes, fine, I promise – now go back to bed before we’re both killed!’

Lila nodded as I turned backwards towards the window. I waited to make sure she was gone down the stairs, and then I reached for the branches of the ash tree. The tree was older than the house by about one hundred years, we thought. When I asked Nana why it had never fallen, she had smiled, placed a finger to her lips and whispered, ‘Magic.’

I made my way down through the branches, gingerly testing each bough as I went. It was more difficult in the dark, but I was surprised at how quickly my eyes adjusted to the lack of light. If I looked up, I could see stars through the gaps in the leaves, and if I looked down, I could just make out the texture of the tree branches. The thicker branches stopped about six feet from the ground. After that, you just had to hope for the best and jump.

I balanced myself on the widest part of a branch, looked down towards the lawn and picked out the spot I wanted to land on. I silently counted to three, bent my knees and sprang down to the ground. I travelled through the air for a weightless second, then hit the ground with a muffled thump, pitching myself forward into the fall. The momentum carried me into a roll down the hilly lawn. After a moment I came to a stop, pulling my hand away from a thorny thistle it had landed in.

I carefully stretched up and dusted myself off. I could still feel the shock of the landing in my bones, but otherwise I felt

Into the Witchwood

fine. I looked back towards the house one last time, making sure all the lights were off. My eyes lingered on the window of our room, making sure that Lila hadn’t switched ours back on, but the upstairs window remained in darkness.

I took a deep breath, turning back towards the road. Then I took a step towards the woods, and the Witch.