This is how they tell it, those childless people who long for a child. The forest witch keeps a mossy glade, and it is full of healthy babies. You can pick one up and keep it to care for as your own. 

    Tanet was not there to get one of the babies, though. Tanet was there to get all of them, to shut the whole illicit operation down, subdue the witch, and bring the babies to the Order. 

    Tanet was not there to remember what it was like to be raised by the Order themselves, in the cold monastery. Remembering would not help her do the task, collect the payment, and finally leave this life behind.

    The reluctant mercenary tried to push these thoughts aside as she stepped into the glade, but when she heard the sound of a baby grizzling, she felt again the bite of the priest’s cane on the back of her hand. More than once, the priest had found Tanet creeping into the monastery’s nursery to soothe the hungry, wailing babies: babies who had been given up by parents too poor to keep them, just as Tanet had. Soft-heartedness like that was punished. The babies were being raised to work and fight, not to cry and not to comfort.

    Here in the forest, though, comfort came from the very leaves of the canopy, which swayed to hush the well-fed infants below. The baby, who had been crying, red-haired and pink-cheeked, settled quickly to watch the morning light moving above. 

    The night before, the village innkeeper had sold Tanet and another sad couple bags of the witch’s favourite sugar almonds as a group of men eyed them from the corner. Now, Tanet hung the bag of almonds on a branch of the largest tree, safely out of reach of the babies’ grabbing hands. 

    A voice came from the trees all around, “What are you willing to give?”

    “Two hundred gold coins,” Tanet lied. Only one of the Order’s gold coins clunked in her pocket against her short dagger.

    The canopy shook in agitation. A large branch crashed to the ground just near Tanet but well away from the babies. Was the witch bargaining for more, or was this a different kind of test?

    “Three hundred,” Tanet offered. 

    Vines whipped around Tanet’s ankles, felling her. Two bigger babies crawled over, chuckling, to play with Tanet’s hair. Tanet struggled up and untied the vines, then retreated, careful not to step on any little fingers.

    At dusk, Tanet returned to spy. How was the witch keeping so many babies happy and fed? By candlelight, the witch appeared, a small frowning person with a short halo of dark hair, surrounded by…children? 

    A tall boy of around twelve with wild red hair rocked a baby at his chest while the witch spoke gently to a younger girl.

    “No, I am sorry, we can’t just all stay here. I need to send you somewhere safer, away from the Order.”

    The girl made a questioning sound between a snuffle and a whimper, and the witch continued.

    “When you go with your new parents, the spell will keep you a baby at first, and then you’ll grow up again, with them. But you’ll remember us. And later you can come and visit. I will keep trying to find your real parents. Now, let’s eat.”

    An older child handed around bowls of food, and the glade fell quiet.  

    The next day, they were all babies again. The sad couple came and cried and left, beaming, with the red-haired baby. As far as Tanet could see, they didn’t pay the witch anything, just the bag of almonds. 

    On the path back to the village, Tanet heard twigs breaking and quickly hid in the branches above. She held her breath. Looking down, she saw that the men from the inn already had their knives out. Their curses and the harsh smell of alcohol reached Tanet where she hid. Two wore the crest of the Order on their coats. 

    It was typical of the Order to arrange for a second killing force in case her own mission failed. Failed or was abandoned.

    Tanet made a decision then so quickly that it felt like fate. She ran quietly back to the glade, looping away from the path. The clearing was empty. 

    “Witch,” Tanet hissed, “take the children somewhere safe.”

    “You.” The witch’s voice was scathing.

    “Men are coming. They plan to kill you and take the children to the Order.”

    “They plan,” the witch said. “And you?”

    Tanet paused.

    “If you can trust me, I will help you and the children get away.”

    There was no reply. Tanet could hear the men getting closer.

    “I can… help you raise them.”

    The witch stepped into the glade. The lines on her young face tugged at Tanet’s heart. 

    “What will you give?” she asked.

                                                                                           #

    Far away, there is a big house on an island in a lake that is always full of storms. Pine saplings are growing around the house. They grow stronger with every transit of the sun. The wind through them hushes and soothes.

    Every few weeks, the storms clear to let a little rowboat pass, and the boat returns low in the water, heavy with sweets, books, and toys. The children are growing, but at bedtime, the littlest still beg for the story of how Tanet and the witch fought off the attackers.

    When Tanet is scared that the Order will come for revenge, when her knuckles ache and she feels small, the witch makes the waves higher and the winds wilder. The big house rattles, but it stays warm inside. Young pine needles tap at the windows, friendly, gentle. 

    At night, after the children are asleep, Tanet and the witch eat sugar almonds. They write letters they hope will reach the children’s kin. They’re safe, they write, they’re growing. Come when you can.