Instead, as she had done often before, she climbed over the wall and dropping down onto the soft ground started off in the direction of Witch Wood.
The wood was the nearest one to the village, which was why, Hermia thought, all those years ago Mrs. Wombatt had built herself a house there.
It had been in her grandfather’s time, whom from all she had heard had been very much like her father, good-natured and kind to everyone who lived on his land.
He had made no objection when Mrs. Wombatt, with the help of two young men she had bewitched, built a house partly of bricks, partly with the trunks of trees and lived there alone.
Now, as Hermia entered the lower end of Witch Wood, she wondered if the tales the villagers told were true.
Perhaps in the moonlight she would see strange sights an
