She wept quietly by the falls, about a quarter mile down the river from the outer boundary of the small village of Halley’s Well. It was so hard being all alone in the world. Since her mother had died, there was no one to dry her tears or tell her she had value beyond two hands that could work as hard as any others. Only her mother had made her feel special. And loved. And her mother had never told her she was the next best thing to worthless. Her mother had never belittled her for the way she thought or the things she could do that were just a little out of the ordinary. Now that mama was gone, there was no protection for her against the world’s hateful ways. No buffer between her and the mean people in the village who didn’t like her for whatever reason—or worse—feared her. There were even whispers going around that she was a witch, and in this small border village, that could prove very dangerous indeed. Isabelle didn’t quite fear for her life…yet. But the threat was there.
