The Mud-witch - a short story collaboration

‘Not much use now.’ Minno throws it back in the water, then pulls off his other glove and chucks it in too. ‘I should go home for dinner. Mum will be waiting,’ he says. The Mud-witch nods, her grey face crinkling up in a smile. Minno watches her waving from the bank as he begins rowing back upstream. His hands feel strong on the oars, in the cool night air. 19