Suzan was right. Soon enough the path did lead somewhere. It lead to another, larger clearing. Unlike the creature's clearing, this one remained dark and overcast by a think layer of leaves, and in its centre stood a little stone cottage. Ivy snaked up the walls, smoke drifted carefree from the chimney and lights gave off a warm glow from inside. Outside, at the end of a neat row of flowers and planters, was a broken flower pot. It had been refashioned into what Suzan was tempted to call a 'Bug Hotel'.

"The witch's house" she murmured. "I've seen enough horror films to know that I am not going in there." She turned around to leave and yelped.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

A young woman stood in front of her. Suzan had not heard her approach yet there she was. A radiant beauty in the black forest. She couldn't think of what to say.

"Are you lost?" the young woman ventured.

"Er, yes. Sorry." Suzan stammered.

"Not to worry. I can show you the way back if you like. Just let me drop off my shopping first." The woman held up two large shopping bags.

Shocked, Suzan glanced back at the cottage.

"This is...you live here?"

The woman chuckled. "I know, a bit out in the sticks, but yes. My home sweet home." She started stumbling towards the front door. "Please feel free to come in while I put this away. I can make some tea before we set off."

"Oh, that's alright. I'll be fine if I could just have some directions please. You needn't come with me." The woman certainly did not look like a witch. In fact, she seemed very friendly, charming. Yet, after seeing the creature, Suzan didn't feel like taking the risk. She still didn't know what had happened to Basil either. She needed to find him.

"Nonsense." The woman replied, "It's no bother to me. Besides, it is difficult to give directions round here. All the paths can look the same and some are tricky to spot."

Suzan watched the woman go inside. She looked harmless enough and sounded genuine. Perhaps what Ezra said was just from the imagination of a little, frightened boy. If there was a witch, perhaps she had died. Suzan found herself walking towards the cottage, like she was being tugged towards it. She felt a growing curiosity to see what was inside. A growing thirst for some tea too. She stepped onto the threshold of the open door.

"Please, do come in." The woman called, glancing around the edge of a cupboard door.

The inside of the cottage looked cozy yet also airy and spacious. The kind of place Suzan reckoned she would have liked to go for a quirky holiday. She stepped further inside.

"This looks like a nice place."

"Thanks. Take a seat" The woman gestured to the table, "and I'll make that tea."

"Oh, I'm really not thirsty." Suzan lied, sitting down.

"You sure? Well, I hope you don't mind if I have one."

Suzan watched as she filled the kettle and placed it on the stove.

"I must say I adore your hair. I wish mine were that colour."

Suzan twiddled a lock of her blonde hair self-consciously, "Thanks."

The woman smiled and continued to chat as she unpacked her shopping. Suzan started to feel more at ease, yet the longer she waited, the more she worried about Basil. What if the cockatrice had got him? Would she find a lifeless corpse on the path if she didn't leave now?

Eventually, she plucked up the courage to say "I'm sorry. I really must go. I need to find my friend. If you could just give me some directions I'm sure I can find my way back." She looked to the woman with pleading eyes.

At that moment, the kettle started to whistle.

Slowly, almost painfully slow to Suzan's mind, the woman removed the kettle. Placing it on a trivet, she turned and looked at Suzan with piercing eyes.

"I can't let you go."

"Honestly, I'll be fine." Suzan said. Standing up, she glanced towards to door. It had closed. A loud click came from the lock.

"I don't think you understand me girl." The woman said, her voice low. "You are staying here. I need you."

Panicked thoughts whirled around Suzan's head. "What do you mean?"

The woman stepped closer. Suzan stepped back and felt her path blocked by the table. The woman reached out her hand and gently caressed Suzan's cheek.

"I need you" She said again, "I need your hair, your skin...your youth." With a sudden purpose, she turned from her and headed for one of the kitchen draws.

Suzan took the opportunity and ran to the door. She rattled the door knob in desperation. It was locked.

"If you don't give me what I need,"

Suzan stood with her back pressed tightly to the door. Her stomach churned with fear. She should never have come here. In front of her stood the witch, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she held up a long, sharp knife. The long fingers that grasped the ornate wooden handle were steady and calm, ready to dissect her desired features.

"I'll just take it from you."

Suzan opened her mouth, a scream waiting impatiently on her lips.

"Honestly Becky. Do we have to do this again so soon?"

The witch froze in her approach, only a whisper away from her victim. She stared into the depths of Suzan's soul.

"Please excuse me a minute. This won't take long." In one fluid motion, she whipped around and flung the knife.

It missed her target. Suzan recognised the dark hat and green kerchief. It was The Mist of Moningsbury.

She supposed it made sense that witches could see ghosts too, and if he distracted her for long enough then perhaps she could find a way out. She didn't dare let out the breath she had been holding just yet, instead looking around quickly for a window.

The Mist stood motionless in the middle of the room, his kerchief hiding any expression that might have shown on his face.

"Let her go Becky and I will leave you alone."

The witch sighed and strolled carefully towards him. "Oh Misty. Will you never understand? Without them, I won't survive."

"Everyone has to die at some point. Your death is long overdue."

"As, it seems, is yours. What happened between us Misty?" She reached out her long fingers longingly towards his hidden face.

In an instant, he drew his sword and pressed it to her neck, forcing her to back up against the kitchen counter. Confusion and disgust crossed through his grey eyes, making him frown.

"Nothing. Stop playing your games with me, you should know better by now."

Suzan stopped listening. She had successfully crept over to the nearest window, managing to open it with only the slightest creaking. Ready to climb through, she glanced back.

Still pressed to the counter, the witch reached up to a nearby shelf and flung a jar filled with... something (Suzan presumed some kind of potion) down at The Mist.

Before the worst could happen, Suzan clambered through the window. Outside, she stopped and stared a moment. There was large horse, calmly standing just short of the cottage and looking forlornly at the ferns like it wanted the nibble them.

A loud thud came from within the cottage. Purple smoke started obscuring the inside and pouring out of the open window. The sounds of a scuffle ensued.

Suzan knew that now was her chance to escape. She looked around. Where was the path? She could have sworn it was over here.

The door swung open and a figure emerged.

She panicked and started to run. Her foot caught in a root and she fell to the ground with a yelp. The figure walked closer.

The horse had lifted its head, ears pricked forwards. She nickered as she recognised her master. The figure walked past Suzan towards the horse. Opening her eyes, she saw it was The Mist. He mounted Exeter and looked down to where Suzan was still sprawled on the ground, her yellow coat speckled in mud.

"If you care to hop on, I can take you back to the main path."

"Th-thanks." She stammered, scrambling to her feet. "But I can't." She remembered the piercing cold after touching Victor, making her fingers tingle at the memory.

"I can't touch ghosts." She explained.

"Oh." He sounded surprised. "In that case, you will just have to follow me." Without waiting for a response, he nudged Exeter into a walk towards the trees.

Suzan broke into a small jog until she was able to walk beside The Mist and his horse. "Thank you." She said.

He cast her a small glance.

"For saving me, that is." She continued. Despite meeting him before in the gloomy depths of Highhill house, she found him more intimidating in the sunlight. Astride his large blue roan, he loomed above her. Exeter's muscles gliding easily beneath her skin only adding to the sensation of power and mystery radiating from them. Although his features were well hidden behind the green kerchief and tricorne hat that he wore low over his face, Suzan got the impression that he was angry with her. Angry that she had found the cockatrice. That was probably a subject best avoided if she wanted to make it back to the main path. A sense of doubt suddenly flooded her. Could she really trust him to take her back the right way?

Before she knew it, she found herself asking aloud, "Can I trust you?"

Without looking down The Mist replied, "If I thought you better off lost or dead in this damn forest, I would not have saved you."

Suzan felt that was pretty good reasoning.

"Well, er, thank you." She said again.

They walked in silence for a while. The birds gradually got louder again and the rays of sunlight breaking through the trees became more frequent and brighter while Suzan occasionally stole glances up at her rescuer.

"What's your horse called?" she asked, fed up with the tense silence.

"Hm?"

"I said, what's your horse called?"

"Her name is Exeter."

The mare's ears flickered at the sound of her name. Suzan reached out a hand to pet her before remembering that she couldn't.

"That's a cool name. Hello Exeter."

Exeter snorted in response, turning her head briefly towards her. The Mist said nothing.

"so... how did you die?"

He looked down at her. "That's a blunt question."

"Oh I'm so, I'm so sorry" Suzan stammered. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"That's alright. But I'd rather not talk about it."

"I can understand that. I suppose it's quite a sore subject?"

He glared at her, "Yes."

"So what was your life like?"

"Do you want to get back to the main path or don't you?" His voice rose in irritation.

'I've stepped too far' Suzan thought. "I'm sorry." She said quietly. "I was just trying to make conversation."

"well, don't."

And so they lapsed once again into a tight silence, one that you could feel in the air between them. The smallest word at risk of upsetting their delicate peace. Suzan stumbled beside the horse and rider who seemed to so gracefully pick their way along the barely perceptible path. Suzan could feel a sense of foreboding she hadn't noticed before gradually lifting. Bored of the lack of conversation, she plucked up the courage to ask another question.

"Misty, if you don't mind me calling you that... have you ever met someone like me before? I mean, someone who is able to see ghosts?" She looked up in expectation. He didn't look at her, but she could tell he was thinking about his response. Something up ahead caught his attention.

"Here we are." He said. "The main path. Follow it left and it takes you to the car park."

"Thank you" she said, disappointed that he didn't answer her question and not daring to chase him up on it.

Without hesitation, The Mist trotted back into the trees. Suzan paused for a moment to watch him go. 'What kind of a world have a fallen into?' she wandered, stepping onto the gravel path.

***********************************

Suzan hurried into the carpark to find Basil standing by the car, panting.

"Where did you go?" he asked, clearly annoyed.

Ignoring his words, she ran up and hugged him. "Thank goodness." She said, "I wasn't sure what had happened to you." She let go of her embrace and held his shoulders tightly at arm's length. "What happened to your face?" she asked, pointing to a red mark beside his eye.

"I fell over and whacked my head on a tree. Are you ok though?" his face briefly softened with concern. "No bumps, scratches or bite marks from that vicious creature you led us to?" His voice becoming bitter at the last remark.

"I'm fine thanks." She replied, telling herself to be optimistic. It hadn't been a complete disaster of a day. "Although I did find Ezra's witch. I escaped thanks to The Mist of Moningsbury."

Basil scoffed, "Really? You believe in that myth?"

"He's a ghost like the others. You can hardly be a non-believer now after seeing the cockatrice. You have to believe me."

"Just watch me." Basil said, climbing into the car. "Now please get in. I want to go home."