Witches Abroad

years running? Lawks. That is good. That’s very good. And here’s me hardly able to lift it.” Granny grasped the axe in one hand and swung it inexpertly. The woodcutter jumped backward as the blade whirred past his face and then buried itself a quarter of an inch deep in a tree.
    “Sorry about that,” said Granny Weatherwax. “Aren’t I a daft old woman! Never was any good with anything technical!”
    He grinned at her, and tried to pull the axe free.
    He sank to his knees, his face suddenly white.
    Granny leaned down until she was level with his ear.
    “You could have seen to the old woman,” she said quietly. “You could have talked to the wolf. But you didn’t, right?”
    He tried to speak, but his teeth didn’t seem to want to part.
    “I can see you’re very sorry about all that,” she said. “I can see you’re seein’ the error of your ways. I bet you can’t wait to be up and repairing her cottage for her, and getting the garden back in good order, and seeing she has fresh milk every day and a good supply of wood, right? In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if you wasn’t generous enough to build her a new cottage, with a proper well an’ all. Somewhere near the village so she don’t have to live alone, right? You know, I can see the future sometimes and I just know that’s what’s goin’ to happen, right ?”
    Sweat ran off his face. Now his lungs didn’t seem to be operating, either.
    “An’ I knows you’re goin’ to keep your word, and I’m so pleased about it that I’m going to make sure you’re especially lucky,” said Granny, her voice still in the same pleasant monotone. “I knows it can be a dangerous job, woodchoppin’. People can get hurt. Trees can accidentally fall on ’em, or the top of their chopper can suddenly come off and cut their head open.” The woodcutter shuddered as Granny went on: “So what I’m goin’ to do is a little spell to make sure that none of this ’appens to you. On account of me bein’ so grateful. Because of you helpin’ the old lady. Right? Just nod.”
    He managed to move his head a fraction. Granny Weatherwax smiled.
    “There!” she said, standing up and brushing a speck of leafmold off her dress. “You see how sweet life can be, if we all helps one another?”

    The witches left around lunchtime. By then the old woman’s garden was full of people, and the air with the sound of sawing and hammering. News like Granny Weatherwax travels fast. Three woodcutters were digging over the vegetable plot, two more were fighting to clean the chimney, and four of them were halfway down a new well that was being dug with impressive speed.
    The old grandmother, who was still the kind of person who hangs onto one idea until another one dislodges it by force, was running out of saucers to put the milk in.
    The witches sneaked away in all the busyness.
    “There,” said Magrat, as they strolled down the path, “it just goes to show how people will pitch in and help, if only someone sets an example. You don’t have to bully people all the time, you know.”
    Nanny Ogg glanced at Granny.
    “I saw you talking to the head woodcutter,” she said. “What was you talking about?”
    “Sawdust,” said Granny.
    “Oh yes?”
    “One of the woodcutters told me ,” said Magrat, “that there’s been other odd things happening in this forest. Animals acting human, he said. There used to be a family of bears living not far away.”
    “Nothing unusual about a family of bears living together,” said Nanny. “They’re very convivial animals.”
    “In a cottage?”
    “ That’s unusual.”
    “That’s what I mean,” said Magrat.
    “You’d definitely feel a bit awkward about going around to borrow a cup of sugar,” said Nanny.“I expect the neighbors had something to say about it.”
    “Yes,” said Magrat. “They said ‘oink’.”
    “What’d they say ‘oink’ for?”
    “Because they couldn’t say anything else. They were pigs.”
    “We had people like that next door when we lived at—” Nanny began.
    “I mean pigs . You know. Four legs? Curly tail? What pork is before it’s pork? Pigs.”
    “Can’t see anyone letting pigs live in a cottage,” said Granny.
    “He said they didn’t. The pigs built their own. There were three of them. Little pigs.”
    “What happened to them?” said Nanny.
    “The wolf ate them. They were the only animals stupid enough to let him get near them, apparently. Nothing was found of them except