The Mud-witch - a short story collaboration | Page 9

‘Where’s your gloves, Minno?’ One of boys grins as he stamps on them, and kicks one down the
bank. It sinks like a drowning hand in the murky water. ‘Another ship? That what it is?’
‘No.’ Minno holds the unfinished boat down low.
‘Going to sail away in it and hide?’
‘He’s going to see his mum,’ another boy says, nudging at Minno’s back with his knee. ‘Going to
see the Mud-witch.’
‘She’s not,’ Minno says. He hides his fingers away beneath the boat and the boy leans down and
snatches it up.
‘Show us. Go on.’
Minno reaches up for the boat, he cannot help it, but the boy holds it away.
‘She must be your mum,’ the boy shouts. ‘Who else has got webbed hands? Minno and the
Mud-witch!’
Minno jumps up and begins chasing the boy along the bank, the laughs of the others following
them like shrieking birds.
The boy swivels to face him. ‘I wish the Mud-witch would come and get you,’ he cries, as he
hurls the small boat into the river. It turns on its side and spins in the current as it is carried away
downstream.
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