Wintersmith

look?” said Miss Treason, frantically winding up her clock.
    “It looks nice—”
    “Nice? Nice? Are you mad? Mess it up this minute!” Miss Treason demanded. “And fetch my most raggedy cloak! This one’s far too clean! Move yourself, child!”
    It took several minutes to get Miss Treason ready, and a lot of the time was spent convincing her that taking the skulls out in daylight might be dangerous, in case they got dropped and someone saw the labels. Then Tiffany opened the door.
    A murmur of conversation crashed into silence.
    There were people in a crowd all around the door. As Miss Treason stepped forward, it parted to leave a clear path.
    To her horror, Tiffany saw a dug grave on the other side of the clearing. She hadn’t expected that. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but a dug grave wasn’t it.
    “Who dug—?”
    “Our blue friends,” said Miss Treason. “I asked them to.”
    And then the crowd started to cheer. Women hurried forward with big bunches of yew, holly, and mistletoe, the only green things growing. People were laughing. People were crying. They clustered around the witch, forcing Tiffany out to the edge of the crowd. She went quiet and listened.
    “We don’t know what we’ll do without you, Miss Treason.”—“I don’t think we’ll get another witch as good as you, Miss Treason!”—“We never thought you’d go, Miss Treason. You brought my ol’ granddad into the world.”—
    Walking into the grave, Tiffany thought. Well, that’s style. That is…solid gold Boffo. They’ll remember that for the rest of their lives—
    “In that case you shall keep all the puppies but one—” Miss Treason had stopped to organize the crowd. “The custom is to give that one to the owner of the dog. You should have kept the bitch in, after all, and minded your fences. And your question, Mister Blinkhorn?”
    Tiffany stood up straight. They were bothering her! Even this morning! But she…wanted to be bothered. Being bothered was her life.
    “Miss Treason!” she snapped, pushing her way through the mob. “Remember you have an appointment!”
    It wasn’t the best thing to say, but a lot better than: “You said you were going to die in about five minutes’ time!”
    Miss Treason turned and looked uncertain for a moment.
    “Oh, yes,” she said. “Yes, indeed. We had better get on.” Then, still talking to Mr. Blinkhorn about some complex problem concerning a fallen tree and someone’s shed, and with the rest of the crowd trailing after her, she let Tiffany walk her gently to the graveside.
    “Well, at least you’ve got a happy ending, Miss Treason,” Tiffany whispered. It was a silly thing to say and deserved what it got.
    “We make happy endings, child, day to day. But you see, for the witch there are no happy endings. There are just endings. And here we are….”
    Best not to think, thought Tiffany. Best not to think you’re climbing down an actual ladder into an actual grave. Try not to think about helping Miss Treason down the ladder onto the leaves that are piled up at one end. Do not let yourself know you’re standing in a grave.
    Down here, the horrible clock seemed to clank even louder: clonk-clank, clonk-clank ….
    Miss Treason trod the leaves down a bit and said cheerfully, “Yes, I can see myself being quite comfortable here. Listen, child, I told you about the books, did I not? And there is a small gift for you under my chair. Yes, this seems adequate. Oh, I forgot…”
    Clonk-clank, clonk-clank …went the clock, sounding much louder down there.
    Miss Treason stood on tiptoe and poked her head over the edge of the hole. “Mr. Easy! You owe two months’ rent to the Widow Langley! Understand? Mr. Plenty, the pig belongs to Mrs. Frumment, and if you don’t give it back to her, I shall come back and groan under your window! Mistress Fullsome, the Dogelley family have had Right of Passage over the Turnwise pasture since even I cannot remember, and you must…you must…”
    Clon…k.
    There was a moment, one long moment, when the sudden silence of the clock not ticking anymore filled the clearing like thunder.
    Slowly Miss Treason sagged down onto the leaves.
    It took a few dreadful seconds for her brain to start working, and then Tiffany screamed at the people clustered above: “Go back, all of you! Give her some air!”
    She knelt down as they backed hurriedly away.
    The smell of the raw soil was sharp in the air. At least Miss Treason seemed to