And the wood witch talked in her sleep.

     When she did so, men came from miles around to hear her words, convinced she would tell them the best time of day to hunt, the easiest way to bring in a harvest, the steps needed to enter a woman’s heart.

     Once such man, a tall and skinny farmer who the others called Lamb, went alone to see the wood witch. This had never been done before, and the others were sure Lamb would never return. Many of them began dividing up his belongings as soon as he vanished on the horizon. By the third hour of his departure, some were already spinning a new mythology, the story of Lamb the Brave, or Lamb the Imbecile. By the tenth hour, the village slept and mostly forgot Lamb until morning.