Okay. So I changed a few things in my last chapter if you have read it as of late. I've decided for Constanze to be seventeen instead of nineteen, because I was the naïve trait to really show in her. I've spent many o' sleepless nights working on perfecting this chapter and previous chapters so it would be more enjoyable and understandable to read. I really hope it's working, haha. So here it is, Chapter Three of Never Cry Witch. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, because for some reason when I am sleep-deprived, I find my muse more clearly and the creativity just strikes me like lightning. I hope you like it!

Chapter 3

The late afternoon grew colder as a cool front blew in afar from the sea. The bare trees shook with the breeze and rattled the dead leaves. It had been a few hours since Hershel had encountered Hale, the chilling presence of the Reverend haunting him every so often. He pulled a cart full of hay in front of the barn before entering the house a few moments later.

Constanze raised her eyebrows, slightly grimacing at the word. "Witches?" she replied in dismay, trying to process everything her father had told her. "They're ridding the town of witches?"

"Ay. And they will hang if they do not confess to bewitching the children." Hershel pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slightly. He could feel his heart sink to his knees. "Sarah Good and Sarah Osborne have already been convicted."

"How do you know this?" her voice trembling in fear.

"Your mother has spoken to Goody Proctor as of this morning… and I spoke to the new Reverend earlier today: Mister John Hale from Beverly."

Constanze huffed in disbelief, choking back the burning tears that tore at her pale blue eyes. "I don't believe this…" She folded her arms as she slumped back in her chair. She looked up in the air and twitched her foot frantically, something she'd often done when she became irritated.

"We must watch ourselves, Stanzey. Mister Hale has already noted suspicion on our Christian life, and-"

"I do believe our personal life is not of his concern, or anyone else's." Constanze rolled her eyes and stood up from her chair. She paced the room for a few moments, still trying to find a rational reason as to, "Why? And who?"

"The young Williams girl; the minister's niece. She accused their Tituba of bewitching her and Betty but three day ago."

Constanze scoffed. "Tituba?"

Hershel shrugged. "I know not why or how; you know well we do not compact with the village."

Constanze shook her head, the heat of her rage rising up to her face. Her breathing became heavy. She turned and walked briskly passed her sitting father and ran outside. Hershel sighed and lowered his head. For once, in a number of years, he had done what seemed the impossible; something he'd thought he was incapable of doing for so long. He prayed.

She was blinded by the wind, infuriated. She ignored the barking of the neighbor's hounds, and the clucking of the hens as she ran passed. Strands of her long black locks fell out of her bonnet and moved freely with the wind. Her knuckles and her nose were cold and numb from the early winter air. Finally she brought herself to a stop after minutes of running indefinitely, looking around her to see the tall pines of the familiar forests surrounding her. She removed her bonnet as she brought herself to her knees, tears stinging her nose and streaking her rosy cheeks. She raked the earth with her fingers, feeling the texture of the dry soil with her palms, something her grandmother taught her to do in troubled times. She closed her eyes. She felt her heart beat slower and slower as she breathed in the fresh air, rich with the scent of broken earth. She squeezed the loose dirt that was cupped in her hands.

She rose from the ground, walking slowly to a grand old tree that was perhaps even older than Granny herself. She placed her fingers on its broad trunk, feeling every course inch of the bark that coated it. She leaned her head against the old pine and sighed. She was always taught to respect the earth as if it were a great grand elder. Gretel had always said that if you treat earth as a mother, it might be that she eventually lend you a helping hand in a time of need. Constanze only hoped that it would be true.

Her emotions ran wild. Who would have spoken of such evil to cause this hellish outbreak? She had known Tituba nearly all her life. She, Sybil, and Gretel would often trade herbs and recipes with each other in the late summer when the crops were ripe, and were always good friends. She never remembered her having the desire to hurt anyone, not even that mouse of a man Samuel Parris. Who would she lose next? Perhaps now her whole family would be condemned, being as un-pure and unworthy as they are in the church's eyes. Perhaps she herself had trafficked with the "devil", or so they'd like to think.

Wiping one last shed tear, She slowly walked down the path from whence she came, running her fingers through the low limbs of the trees. She caressed the leaves browned from autumn, and wondered if her heart would wither, too. She pained just thinking about it. Suddenly, she heard a discrete noise from atop the trees. She looked; three black crows were sitting afar on a high limb. Her heart stopped. She watched as the three ravens flew to the pale sky, their wings flapping distinctively in the silent forest. She remembered the old superstition she was once told as a child: atop a black bird's wing comes death and misfortune. She shuttered.

She used the time it took to get from the woods in the outskirts of the village to her house in town to clear her mind. By that time, the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon. As she walked passed, she patted the family horse, a stout black mare, gently on the snout. She heard another horse snort in the distance. She turned to see an unfamiliar copper stallion tied to the wooden fence that surrounded their barn. It was rare that they ever got visitors out of the province. She knew just about every horse in town.

Reluctantly, she walked to the steps that led up to the front door of her home. She slowly pushed open the cracked door and peered into the kitchen to find her father, mother, and grandmother at the table. They all looked at her as she entered, their eyes filled with worry. It was then she saw a man she'd never met. His very presence stopped her in her tracks, his eyes stern and set upon her as if he'd been expecting her arrival.

"Constanze, dear… come have a seat," Sybil said to her. Her voice trembled.

She said nothing, her eyes hardened and still affixed to the man as she approached her family, wary of his company. Her body was tense like a prowling wolf, and it was clear to him that she did not want him there. He looked down to the side to avoid her eyes, his fingers fidgeting nervously. His chest rose.

Hershel cleared his throat to break the tension. "Stanzey… this is Reverend Hale, from Beverly. He's come to talk to us about our-"

"There is nothing to talk about." she snapped. She gritted her teeth together and balled her fists until her knuckles turned white. The room grew silent.

Sybil sighed. "Mister Hale is here to inform us of what is happening to the children… and examine us to be clear of suspicion."

"Suspicion?" Constanze spat. "What, and belittle us and tell us how unrighteous we are in the eyes of God? How we'll only burn in Hell?" She shook her head. "How dare you come into our home, onto our land, and tell us how to live? These are innocent people you're murdering."

Hale sighed, his eyes pleading for her understanding. "Miss Brunswick, it is not in my favor to-"

"Say no more!" Hale stopped abruptly, slightly jumping at her outrage. "I'll not be judged by your suspicion. Take your accusations elsewhere, and leave my family be." Constanze walked out of the kitchen and walked upstairs to her room, leaving him at a loss for words.

"Mister Hale… I am so sorry. She's just… a bit bewildered." Sybil glanced at the stairway before looking back to Hale. He shook his head.

"Ay… It's a hard time, especially learning all of this but a few hours ago. Give her time. The light of God will eventually reach her, and she will come to full understanding. Patience is a virtue in times like these." He nodded before rising out of his chair and retrieving his hat. "I thank you for your time."

"Good day to you, Mister Hale," said Hershel.

Through the silence, Gretel giggled, causing both Hershel and Sybil to glance over at her. "Ahh… she will come around."

As Hale walked out of the house and to his horse, he felt a certain unease. Never had he felt a stare so cold and so hollow. So broken this child was. Here he had enjoyed the hospitality the people of Salem had given him, looking up to him as a teacher and a protector. Why was there anger projected towards him if he had only tried to help? The thoughts ran through his mind. She hadn't even given him a chance to explain, let alone speak to her. Something was not right about this situation. Not only will he have to persuade the accused in court to confess, but now he will have to help fill the abyss between him and the child. 'Patience is a virtue…' he thought to himself. He slowly rode through the darkness to his cabin, where he would wake to face the dreaded morrow in court.