You push in the door of bound wooden sticks and are almost overwhelmed by the stink of cooking frogs, century’s old mud, and brewer’s hops. Your eyes adjust to the gloomy light and you slip inside. It appears that the witch is gone, most likely collecting children in the village while their parents slumber.
A cauldron bubbles in the middle of a darkened room, lit only by the flames of the fire licking at the bottom of the pitted pot. Next to it, you notice a cupboard of coriander, chips of oak trees, and various fruit zests commonly used by the devil’s wives. You also see several dusty, cobweb-covered bottles.