Nathaniel Eaton and Katherine Tyler were married in mid-April, 1689, almost exactly two years after they had met on the Dolphin. She was eighteen, and he nineteen.

As independent as ever, Katherine had decided to keep her last name, something which Nat had no problem with. Her full name was now Katherine Tyler Eaton, but she remained to be addressed as Mistress Tyler.

The now familiar prow of The Witch carved through the gently rippling waters as it cruised into the Saybrook harbor. Kit stood at the deck, carelessly scanning the wharf for Hannah. She missed the elderly woman so much! Nat had told her what to expect – Hannah in a white, lacey dress and a kitten in her lap. He was joking about the former, of course, but Kit had no doubt of the latter.

Together with Kit and Nat were Judith and William, together with their daughter Gabrielle who was by then a year old. Gabrielle was pretty, like her mother, and adorable as most one year olds were. She was a young little charmer, with wavy, soft brown hair like William's and Judith's mesmerizing blue eyes. Mercy could not come because of her leg, and John had chosen to stay with her. They had moved into their new home, which was a street away from where Uncle Matthew and Aunt Rachel lived.

It was a charming place. A quaint little fireplace was the couple's pride and joy, with a customary thick rug placed in front of it. The house was two storeys high, with the second storey for the bedroom and study. Mercy had even adopted a small tortoiseshell kitten, which was as adorable as Gabrielle, and slept on the rug in front of the hearth, as all cats and kittens did.

Kit had a hard time persuading Judith and William to come initially; both were apprehensive about meeting the Wethersfield "witch". Somehow, she had managed to convince them otherwise. Gabrielle was, overall, curious about witches. Judith had told her about the bad things witches did, while Kit claimed that witchcraft did not exist at all. With contradicting opinions from her mother and aunt, she was quite determined to find out the truth.

As for Kit and Nat, neither was concerned about having a family any time soon. Perchance, they would consider it after comfortably settling into married life. For now, they wanted to enjoy couple-hood, which naturally involved only two of them.

Nat's family lived in a small but homely house; Nat and his father did not return home often, both being sailors, thus there were only three women in the house – Mistress Eaton, Nat's grandmother and Hannah. The house, much to Kit's delight, was situated near the wharf. She could almost taste the salty air of the sea; feel the cool breeze caress her face.

"Hannah!"

Hannah was not dressed in a frilly, lacey dress, but she did in fact have a kitten. It wasn't, however, on her lap, but sleeping fitfully in a rattan sewing basket on the floor.

Hannah had been dangerously ill whilst the time she was separated from Kit; a bad flu, the doctors had said. Stubborn as she was, she wasn't stubborn enough to defy the doctors and go to Wethersfield to attend Kit and Nat's wedding. The couple had tried to cancel their wedding and have it in Saybrook, but could not. The arrangements they had made for the wedding in Wethersfield could not be cancelled.

Now Hannah looked at Kit through kind, long-sighted eyes. She smiled benignly and held out her arms.

Kit hugged Hannah fiercely, then stepped back to scrutinize her friend.

Hannah had certainly grown older, and definitely looked a lot worse than before. But still, her countenance still held the stubborn presence of her strong will.

"Thee has grown up, my child," Hannah observed kindly.

Kit realized that all the others had left the room. "I will always be a child at heart," she declared softly as she stroked the white kitten. It purred lustily as in gratitude.

"How are you, Hannah?" she asked finally.

The old woman sighed. "Not too well, m'dear. But I'm alright for the time being, so don't you worry about me."

"How can I not? You look so pale and sickly; we really should get you some fresh air," Kit told her firmly.

Then she realized the absence of a certain creature Hannah had been extremely close to…

"Where's the cat, Hannah? The one you took on the ship with you?" Kit asked the elderly lady, fearing the worst.

The latter regarded her through a veil of unshed tears. "She died last week. Peacefully. She was a good cat, she was."

"Oh, Hannah!"

"Let's not talk about such sad things, my child. Every cloud has a silver lining, 'twas said." Hannah smiled benignly.

And thus they cleared their minds of all unhappy things, leaving the rest of their conversation free to chat optimistically.

Hannah died a week later, at the age of hundred. Her funeral was held in Wethersfield; both Kit and Nat knew that she would have wanted it that way. Gabrielle was greatly perturbed and upset, for she had grown considerably close to Hannah during that one week.

Gabrielle's blue eyes were rimmed with tinges of red, due to her incessant crying. "Grandma Hannah said she would give me the kitten. Can I keep it, mummy?" she begged Judith in a childish, innocent voice that still held tell-tale signs of crying. Judith couldn't possibly disagree, and thus, Gabrielle got her first kitten.

Kit, on the other hand, tried her best not to let the tears dangling at the edge of her eyes fall. She refused to speak; partly because she was too distraught to do so, and partly because she feared that the tears in her eyes would break through once her voice sounded. The only person she spoke to was Nat.

"She'll have a good life in heaven, won't she?" Kit whispered tearfully.

He nodded, enclosing her in an embrace that was firm yet gentle. There was no reply from the girl.