Much to Justine’s frustration, the zebra’s trail completely vanished. It walked into a hollowed out tree. No tracks could be found going back out. She kicked a rock into the night, a hollow thunk echoed back. Justine slumped up against the tree, exhausted. She had been trudging through Tilden Park non-stop, searching as fast as she could. Edgar’s grocery bag of untouched batteries was calling out to her.

  Edgar’s favorite zebra, Frankie, the sole male of a herd he had been gifted, managed to get loose after some sort of incident. Justine was tasked with finding him. She needed those batteries. She wanted to pay off The Convert to give her the location of The Better Place. Of course, she accepted the job without question. After a grueling two day search, it was taking longer than she hoped. With the trail cold she was losing hope that this zebra was even still alive. If blowing this job pissed Edgar off enough to not pay up, she would be royally screwed. Failure wasn’t an option. That zebra was going to go back home.

  She nestled herself into the hollowed out tree to escape the howling wind. A storm was certainly coming. The hunter was ready to wait there on the off chance the zebra came back for safety. For a moment, she closed her eyes. The tension she carried in her chest relaxed, she loosened her jaw. Sleep was about to come for her until she had a strange sensation of falling. Snapping awake, Justine wrapped her arms around her legs.

  Not a moment later, a twig snapped nearby. One eye opened as she reached for the knife in her belt loop. A conditioned response. It may have been the zebra, but Justine was not fool enough to take chances.

  “Frankie?”

  No response. No sound was made at all. Tilden Park was quiet now. The grip of the hilt impressed itself into Justine’s palm. “Who’s there?”

  In the distance, a small orange glow sprung into existence. It swayed back and forth with a creaky metallic squeak. A face illuminated in the soft glow of the lantern. An old woman smiled an imperfect toothy grin at the battle-ready Justine.

  “I heard calamity in the wood. Startled, was I. Granny came to see the clatter’s source. A handsome woman, the origin.”

  Justine raised the knife up for the strange woman to see. “I don’t want any trouble, lady. I’m here to find a zebra and take it home.”

  “The horse of black and white? We saw this odd thing not, but earlier today. Came and went, it did. Came and went.”

  Justine raised her brow at this. “Where did it go?”

  “Information is a sword. You do not hand it freely to one who may use it against you. Caution. Bequeath to one you trust. Savvy?”

  Justine groaned. She was as impatient as ever. This was supposed to be a quick way to get a lot of batteries. A twitch tickled her brow as she realized she’d have to scratch another back. “What can I do for you to tell me where it went? I need to find it, fast.”

  “Old and feeble we are. Maiden of strength and skill required. Are you that maiden, sweet child?”

  “I guess I can be.” Justine grumbled as her knife hand dropped to her hip.

  “Wondrous day! Er…night, we suppose. Wondrous still. Come, come with me. We have tasks. Simple for one such as you.”

  Justine was flattered, but was quick to self conscious thought. She tugged a sleeve down her muscular arm before sheathing her knife. She followed a distance behind the strange woman with the lantern. As she got closer, Justine had realized this woman lacked all modesty. The old woman’s unashamed nakedness made Justine more uncomfortable. She did her best to look at anything else. Mostly, though, she looked straight ahead toward the dark of the night.

  The two of them walked a distance through the woods. It felt different somehow. Warmer, maybe. The mighty wind had vanished. Complete stillness. Unease and doubt kept tugging at the back of Justine’s mind. “Hey, lady? Where are we going? Are we walking far?”

  “Patience! A virtue. We will reach the village soon.”

  “There’s a village in Tilden? I’ve never heard of it.” Justine said after looking through the rough map of the area that was nestled inside her head.

  The old lady giggled. “We prefer it that way. Yet Morkatarg has need. You have need. An exchange will be made.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Justine hurried. “Let’s just get this over with, okay? I really need to finish this job.”

  “Then complete our tasks with haste, girl.” The old woman doused her lantern as she walked toward an archway covered in flowers. It was decorated with small paper lanterns. It shined a comforting faint light. A haggard village rested on the other side of the arch. “Come!” The old woman insisted. Justine followed behind toward the village.

  As they approached, the sound of faint banjo playing kissed their ears, accompanied by the rocking of a chair and toads’ songs. Another modesty free woman sat and played an improvised tune. She looked up from her instrument to see Justine and the old woman stroll by.

  “Magnolia.” She croaked. “Who is this healthy young thing?”

  “Dearest Juniper, behold. The young thing seeks that odd horse. We have come to an arrangement.”

  Juniper rose from her chair and hobbled her way toward Justine. The banjo player’s right leg jutted off at a painful and unnatural angle, like it had been clobbered in with a blunt weapon. The young woman winced as the banjo playing crone looked her up and down. “What strength lies in these arms!” She said as she squeezed Justine’s bicep.

  Justine recoiled. “Thank you.” She didn’t know why she said that.

  Elated, Magnolia said, “A fortuitous night, no? Surely, she can ease the woes of time.”

  “Marvelous. Just marvelous.” Juniper remarked as she continued to examine Justine’s physique.

  Justine felt like she wanted to die. Or at least wondered why she couldn’t have been born invisible. Her body visibly tensed. Unconsciously, she tried to act smaller.

  “Ring bells, Juniper. The others must bear witness.” Magnolia grabbed Justine’s wrist tight, dragging her towards the center of the dilapidated town.

  Juniper limped her way toward a bell and rope. With great aplomb she seized the cord and gave it twenty mighty tugs. “Visitor! Visitor!” She screeched with each pull.

  Five other equally nude old women staggered out into the square. Each more haggard than the last. Their eyes lit up upon seeing Justine, they squealed with joy. Immediately as they rushed to her, they began to make requests.

  “My roof leaks!” One shouted.

  “The steps, they creak!” Another said.

  “My door won’t shut!”

  “A draft haunts my hut!”

  The last woman dragged herself toward the tense Justine with a makeshift crutch. This woman had a massive goiter that wrested real estate away from her head. Gravel accompanied her speech. “This one is striking. Can she deliver, or do the appearances lie?”

  Justine dropped her shoulders. “You…want me to fix your houses?”

  The group of older women nodded their heads, spewing off a litany of affirmations.

  “That’s going to take forever. I don’t have that kind of time. I need to find the zebra and get back.” Justine began. “I’m sorry I don’t think I can help you…”

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  “She does not know?” The goitered woman asked.

  “She will.” Magnolia snickered.

  Justine raised an eyebrow at that remark. She found herself surrounded by a coven of giggling ancient women. They were laughing at her, she knew that. Alarms blared, something was off. At that, Justine began to back away. “Maybe it would be better if I left, actually. All the best, ladies.” Then she turned tail and sped-walked back from where she came in from. As she crossed the threshold of the floral arch she heard, “See you soon, dearest.”

  When she felt as if she was out of sight, she broke out into a full sprint. Trees whizzed by her. Her heart pounded in her chest, looking to get free. While she couldn’t figure out exactly why, she was afraid of the crones. There was something she was missing, yet didn’t care to put the pieces together. What they wanted didn’t matter. To put it simply, Justine wanted to be as far away from Morkatarg as possible. She did not keep track of just how long she ran for.

  As she ran, she soon found herself getting dizzy. Her head was spinning. A throbbing headache emerged that demanded immediate attention. She tripped over a root and almost barely managed to catch herself against the closest tree. The world was hazy. The trees danced as her vision became unreliable. Tears began to form in her eyes while she questioned what was happening to her. It felt like she was losing her mind. In an attempt to stabilize herself, she closed her eyes. She needed time to think.

  Then, Justine heard a pair of light footsteps approaching from behind. Spinning around, Justine opened her eyes to see who it was. Magnolia stood there at the base of the floral archway. Justine gasped, terrified. She ran non-stop away from the village. Panic overcame her as she tried to explain why and how she was still at the entrance to Morkatarg. There was no logic she could concoct that made any sense. Only one explanation made sense, and even that didn’t sit right with her: Witchcraft. Magnolia smiled as she held her hand out to Justine. “Come, child. Tonight, jubilations! Tomorrow, you work.”

  Magnolia brought Justine back to the town square where the other women waited. The goitered woman carried bundles of sticks to a nearby fire pit. With a wheeze, she dropped the wood into the pile. She was gaunt and clearly older than the rest. Though all of their ages remained indecipherable. The woman approached Justine once her task was done.

  “There is a difference about you.” She said.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “No matter.” The sickly woman shook her head. “Willow, be me. I be the eldest.”

  “Ms. Willow…” Justine’s body shook. “I don’t know what you want with me. I just want to…”

  “Morkatarg-“ Willow interrupted. “Seeks women who want. Women without home. A woman who is lost beyond hope, ends up here. With other like-minded sister-kin. You seek what is found here.”

  “I don’t think this is what I’ve been looking for.”

  Willow stamped her foot on the ground. “You are here now!” Then she dropped her head, letting out a short puff of air. “Morkatarg found you with no options. Here, you are at last full of purpose. Safe, now. We take care of you, and you us.” The eldest woman linked her arm with Justine’s. “Sit. Sit! Once each year, we celebrate a new addition to the village. We honor you, in keeping with the tradition of our wild woods.

  Justine knew she had no other choice. She sat on a nearby stump as the crones worked together to light the fire. It rose forth from the pit. The village women howled toward the canopy of the trees, their voices echoed back. All Justine could do was watch with concern as the aged nudists performed a bestial pagan dance. They sang in an unfamiliar language as they twirled together around the fire. Justine couldn’t stomach watching the display, but found it hard to look away. All she could feel was shame. She began to openly weep.

  A hand touched her shoulder. Justine looked up to Magnolia with tears in her eyes. The elderly guide crouched to meet her gaze. “Why the tears, young one?”

  Blubbering, Justine choked out, “I’m not free here. I’m not free anywhere. I can’t do this.”

  “Dance, child. Join in the revelry. May it offer you sight.” Magnolia grabbed Justine by her arms and pulled the crying girl to her feet.

  Wiping her eyes, Justine sniffed, “I don’t know…” A part of her felt moved by the gesture, but the unease of everything still gave her pause. Then she stared into the fire. No one was dumb enough to start one in the East Bay. Many who started fires in the early days of the invasion met swift and violent ends by the hands of the demon scourge. Yet, these women did so without fear. They sang and hollered as they wished. Perhaps then, she thought, that what these ladies said were true. Joining the circle, Justine began to dance to the rhythm of the flame, bewitched by the bonfire.

  It was slow going at first. Justine was self conscious about not knowing the dance moves that the ancient women were performing. She did her best to simulate their movements, but found herself growing frustrated. It felt forced to her. It upset her more that she still felt like an outcast. Her face turned red and she audibly grunted. Justine’s posture became tense and she stopped in the middle of the circle. Juniper bumped into her then they all altered the dance so as to bypass the former zebra hunter.

  Breathe. Justine thought to herself.

  She did so. Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths in through the nose and out through the mouth. Then she began to dance again. This time, she kept her eyes closed as she moved around the circle. She decided she didn’t want to mimic the other dancers anymore. Deciding instead to dance as herself. For perhaps the first time in years, Justine decided to just have fun with it. A smile spread across her face.

  They all revolved around the fire together. While Justine did not sing along, she would howl when the others did. There was something powerful about not holding back. The natural sound of the wood turned into a melody for her. She became engrossed in the song of the wild. In the throes of the dance and as the heat kissed her skin, Justine began to feel overwhelmed by the fire. Her jacket fell to the ground.

  One by one, another article of her clothing was stripped off. Justine had barely noticed she was doing it at all. A sense of joy did creep up from her, however, like a massive weight was being taken away. As she danced in nothing, but her underwear she hadn’t noticed that the old women stopped dancing. They watched her curiously as she removed her bra. When it too fell in the dirt, they were bewildered when a couple of bundled up balls of socks rolled out of the cups.

  As she herself bumped into Juniper, she felt herself come back to her senses. Realizing her near nakedness, she snatched her nearby jacket up and covered herself up as much as she was able. Her initial embarrassment fell away as she looked at the faces of the crones. Their moonlight stained glares caused her to tremble. All of them took a single step in her direction.

  “Dearest.” Willow began with a growl. “You possess a false brassiere.” The eldest woman pointed an unclipped nail toward Justine’s flat chest.

  Closing her jacket tighter over her torso, Justine muttered, “I didn’t even want to do this. I don’t know why I did that…”

  While Willow stood to her full light, her sister-kin devolved into the stance of rabid animals, their bones snapping to mold themselves into wolf-like shapes. With their violent transformation into their human hybrid shapes completed, they ran to surround their mark. “Help us to understand. What has Morkatarg picked up for us this year?” Willow began to pace outside of the surrounding pack. She scratched at her chin.

  Justine looked down at her knife that rested with her pants. She couldn’t believe she got carried away enough to let go of her only weapon. Unfortunately, before she could make a grab for it, she felt a claw rake through the back of her leg. A couple of hands grabbed her ankles and dragged her to the ground. As the jagged nails of vicious old crones dug into Justine’s flesh, she screamed into the night. A pale, smiling, face appeared from the darkness beyond the trees. It looked right into Justine’s eyes. This was the last thing she saw before everything went black.

  “I think her eyes are moving.” Said an unfamiliar voice.

  “Can you back up, please?” The voices sounded young.

  Justine’s eyes opened back up to see three women wearing sacks looking down at her. She looked around the room she now found herself in. It was a ramshackle damp mess. There was very little in the way of accommodations other than hay strewn about. As she began to wake up further, Justine winced from the pain of the many scratches that lined her arms and legs. Then she grabbed at her parched throat.

  “Sandra, get her some water.” The first one commanded. Sandra ran off upstairs, coming back down with a simple water pitcher. As the water hit her throat, Justine relaxed somewhat. She looked down at her clothes to see she was outfitted with her own burlap tunic.

  “What’s going on…?” Justine asked.

  “Don’t move too much just yet.” The commanding one ordered. “My name is Afiya. That’s Sandra and that’s Amy.” Sandra and Amy waved to Justine weakly. “Afi is fine though.”

  “Justine.”

  “It’s nice to finally meet you.” Afi said. “You had one hell of a fever. I wasn’t sure you were gonna be able to fight off the infection yourself.”

  “Afi…” Justine began. “Why are we here? Where are the old ladies?” She was almost too scared to ask.

  “They’re upstairs in the village.” Afi whispered. “You really threw them for a loop.”

  “They threw a loop? I don’t understand.” Amy asked.

  “It’s an expression.” Sandra corrected. “It means that she surprised them.”

  “Because he is a man in Morkatarg?” Amy asked.

  Afi slapped Amy’s arm hard. “Jesus, Amy.”

  “I am sorry.” Amy said, hanging her head.

  Justine raised a hand. “It’s fine. Thank you for saying sorry.”

  “The witches…don’t understand how this could have happened.” Afi said trying to brush passed the awkwardness.

  “Maybe it’s because the woods are more tolerant than Amy is.” Sandra proposed.

  “Hey!” Amy shoved Sandra in protest. “I was only asking!”

  “Both of you stop!” Afi yelled.

  A decisive single stomp of a foot above made the three hostages shutter. Everyone knew to settle down.

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen.” Afi continued, albeit quieter. “When they calmed down enough they communed with the woods. Willow said it’s sending something to meet you.”

  “I don’t- no, I don’t want to do this. I want to go home.”

  “Hey, Justine, hey. Listen. We’re in this together. Whatever it is, we’ll keep you safe. And you’ll do the same for us. We’re sisters now, you got it?”

  “Yeah.” Justine nodded, a light mist kissed her eyes.

  Then a loud series of knocks rang hollow on the rotten door upstairs. The four prisoners heard it creak open.

  “Ah, yes!” Willow said with excitement. “The one with the Mundis’ tool is downstairs with the girls!”

  Justine gulped. “You said we’re in this together?”

  Afi gripped her shoulder, “Whatever happens.”

  The four girls held each others’ hands as tight as they could. Unknown footfalls approached the basement. They huddled together to feel some semblance of safety. The door to the basement swung open as many footfalls descended down the stairs. None of them were ready for what came down to greet them. Following behind Willow, was a gargantuan creature squeezing itself down the stairs as a liquid would. It possessed six arms and no legs. It walked with its hands with a spider’s gait. Justine recognized that smiling face of the thing in the woods protruding from its snakish neck.

  The group of women were frozen stiff as the abomination darted towards them with a desperate anticipation. A still groggy Justine couldn’t even try to fight back as she was scooped up by three of the thing’s sweaty hands. It heaved noxious warm air onto her face. The smile on its face grew wider.

  “Is it as you had hoped, Master Ranfirth?” Willow squealed with delight, already knowing the answer. The Ranfirth creature nodded with a dark enthusiasm.

  Justine was being squeezed tight with Ranfirth’s grasp, She squirmed with no success. “Please, no, I don’t want to die…”, the prisoner managed to eke out.

  “No, no, no, no!” Willow cackled. “Master Ranfirth has been looking for one such as yourself!”

  With two more hands, Ranfirth grabbed Sandra, hoisting her up into the air beside Justine.

  “He has been looking for one who can bestow a woman a child!”

  “What?” Justine cringed. She looked back to the other girls then back to Willow. “No!”

  “Master must understand how it works, child. Ranfirth wishes to study your spawn. My sisters will ensure Master’s wants fulfilled.”

  “I-I won’t!”

  Ranfirth glowered at the defiant woman in his hands. Justine heard several snaps and a small scream. Turning to her left, she saw Sandra falling to the ground. Limp. Justine could only stare, wide eyed and slack jawed.

  “Morkatarg will claim as many women as is necessary. We will slay as many as necessary until you comply.” Willow’s voice morphed into a growl. “One death or a hundred, or more. Your offspring is inevitable.”

  Afi came into view enveloped with hands soaked in Sandra’s blood. Her’s and Justine’s eyes locked. Their insides twisted into knots. Both of their eyes glazed over. Ranfirth laughed, knowing it had won. Justine wept.