"Poor child, you must be starving." The witch purred. "We'll find you something to eat and then you can rest, but afterward I would like for you to draw me a bath."  Her blue robes passed through the trees like the folds of a phantom.  She lifted them delicately to step accross a log bridging a narrow river, excellent protection from enemies who cannot pass running water.  The three of them came upon a cottage larger than most and with timbers instead of thatch.  Mabula pressed ger hand against what appeared to be an iron lock without a keyhole and bade the door open.  It swung with a heavy creak and admitted them to the dark and somewhat dusty interior.<br/><br/>Mabula skirted the small counter space next to the pot-belly stove and withdrew bread from a box.  From another filled with salt, she withdrew cured beef.  She'd taken the life of a cow that wasn't hers and ripped the flesh from it.  The salt was harvested much earlier and was divided into rations for curing and for rituals.  She had nothing but wine to drink and offered the girl a small portion in a clay decanter, placing it in front of her with the bread and the meat.  "Please, enjoy." She waved graciously and retired to a wooden chair at the table.