In the deep forest lived an old woman.

She spent majority of her long days sitting in her rocking chair.

Her little cottage was in a strange place; travelers, merchants, thieves, anyone travelling on the dirt path would see her house.  It was a cozy looking thing, but no one dared to go inside.  Not even the buglers.

Everyone knew who she was.  She wasn't a secret of some sort.

But it was quite strange.

Even the most powerful kings didn't bother her.  No one did.

It was too risky.

Townspeople would tell their children stories of the naughty children that decided to play around near her house.  They broke her window, and were never found again.  She was walking around town looking for some glass to repair her old one.  Because of that story, children grew up well.

It was a mystery no one bothered to think about.  Why should they?  It wasn't as important as worrying about those who dared vandalize her cottage.

But one day, an epidemic broke out in the town, and people were dropping on the floor, one by one.  The old woman had a reputation of mixing up medicines that could never be replicated, so the remaining townspeople were forced between a decision.

Die with everyone else or go to the old woman?