That day began still and quiet, like any day in late fall. The empty fields whispered secrets to the bare trees, and we began to gather as the sun crept into the sky. It was pale and weak.
We heard the cart before we saw it. Saw her standing inside stiff and proud. She looked neither right nor left. They set her on the platform and began to chant.
“Burn, witch, burn!”
She laughed even as the fire grew. We heard her cry out, “Curse you and your land.”
Then she was gone, and the fields have been barren since.