"Witch!" The crowd accused, as if it was an insult.

The woman tied to the stake watched the mob with calculating eyes, slowly drifting over each angrily contorted face. As the accusatory shouts continued to be hurtled in her direction, a small smile crept onto her chapped lips.

"You believe me to be a witch?" She whispered, teeth showing in a feral grin. Though the wind barely carried her softly spoken words across the courtyard, the yelling men turned to silence, though they were no less hostile.

Seconds passed of undisturbed quiet. The wind tugged at the woman's skirts and whistled through the trees' branches.

"We know you are a witch!" A farmer spat. "And you will burn for it!"

A cheer arose. The woman's smile grew and her eyes sparkled in anticipation.

"Then it will be a pleasure to burn."

The crowd shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting around.

"Well, what are we waiting for?!"

A burning stick was raised into the air. Countless hands passed over it, slowly bringing it to the front of the crowd. Closer and closer to the witch it went. As the torch enveloped in flames grew nearer to the stake, ripples of unease and anticipation flowed through the mob, almost as if the fire was the cause.

Finally, the torch reached the edge of the courtyard, feet away from the hay beneath the woman. Her unnerving smile stretched impossibly bigger.

Like a wave crashing onto rocks, a screeching cackle bubbled from her mouth. The men were shocked at her amusement and lack of fear, even in the face of death. Her shrieks of mirth echoed throughout the courtyard and made the hair on the back of their necks stand on end. The wind rustled at the sound of her cackling laughter.

Suddenly out of patience and irritated by the woman's display of insanity and bravery, the man holding the torch uncurled his fingers and let it drop onto the bed of hay and sticks.

For a second, nothing happened. The laughter and chanting cut off abruptly; even the wind was silently waiting. Then, with an explosion of orange heat, the dry grass caught fire. The flames grew quickly, enveloping the wooden post and the woman tied to it.

And still, she did not scream.

Her gurgling laugh rose from the crackling fire like a promise of revenge.

Her words slow and haunting, she cried out to the blood-thirsty men, "You will regret your ignorance! Your fire cannot destroy me!"

As the last word rang out, the column of angry flames ceased, with only a wisp of ample left as proof it was ever there. The witch woman stood unscathed - the ropes that had held her had been burned into nothingness.

The terrifying smile returned slowly to her face, taking over the rest of her features.

"You just tried to kill a fire witch with fire", she confessed with a grin.