We found her in the end. The witch. The one who made McGregor’s ewe birth a two headed lamb and made Stuart’s well run dry. It was the youngest of the Wilson girls. I knew there was something wrong with her from the moment she refused to come with me to the Mayday dance. She has not confessed yet, of course. They never do. But we will Wake her soon enough.
We have tied her to a pole in the town square. A rope around her neck so she cannot lie down. Me and a few of the boys have volunteered to do the work. We check on her every ten minutes, ensure that she has not fallen asleep. They can do that, witches. Sleep standing up, even outdoors in the foulest of weather. We poke her and prod her. Use a bucket of water if needed. She will never sleep again.
This one has lasted longer than most of them, five whole days now. Just shows the amount of evil inside her. How deeply she conspires with Satan. She will burn bright this one. When she finally admits the truth and we can light her up.