Ooshloo wiped the muck out of her eyes as she climbed out of the swamp. The water was cold, and the mud squelched under her bare feet. Her hair, dragged down by sodden leaves, hung limply over her shoulders, obscuring her vision of the fog-drenched bog.

She hitched up her long, heavy, soaked skirts and trudged up the bank, revenge in her heart and magic on her lips. The people who threw her into the water wouldn’t leave to see daylight, she pledged. They thought they’d dealt with her, but they had no idea what they had unleashed.