The Swamp Hag.

“I’ve got a plan.” Marius whispered lest the old Hag be prowling in the shadows beyond the firelight. Half a step in front of him, his sibling shoved the door open and hurried inside. The Hag had not officially been seen in the area since emerging from the murky depths of the swamp months before. Yet both siblings felt her gaze on their backs like a knife edge, and monster hunters had come and gone through the village more than once.

“I’ve got a plan.” Marius repeated when Marla dropped into one of the wooden chairs around their only table and her eyes strayed to the too small graveyard in the distance – now filled with the mummified bodies of their friends.

“You’ve got a plan?” She questioned doubtfully. Her eyes stayed fixed in the distance, but her mind played over the discovery of Darren’s corpse one month prior. Age spots had adjourned his hands and face as he laid motionless in the grass. His frame had curved forward as his spine bent in old age. Only his eyes showed that something was amiss. They alone stood outside the ravages of time that the Hag had wrought on his young body as she drained him of his life to elongate her own and aged him in the process.

“Yes, we have to track the Hag to her lair and kill her during the day,” Marius responded.

“Sure,” Marla retorted her eyes flashing to his. “Let’s just follow her non-existent prints through the waterfilled swampland. The hunters have been trying to find her for weeks since …,” Marla stumbled over the words and lowered her head into her hands.

“I think that I know how to track the Hag. A few days ago, I passed by the mushroom fields where Darren was taken, and I noticed something. Some mushrooms had a black hue if you squinted and stared at them dead on.”

Marla scoffed, “That’s nonsense.”

“No,” Marius hurried to say. “Marla, listen. This morning, when we walked out to the swamp to process the dried mushrooms, I saw the same black hue in the grasses around the window of the drying building. The one where you were working with Fernando and Andrena the night before,” Marius fell silent a moment and waited, but there was no quick intake of breath.

“I thought that it would be me next,” She said finally with her head still clasped in her fingers. Not to hide her sadness, but to avoid the devastation on her brother’s face.

“We are not going to let that happen,” He retorted and put his arm around her shoulders. “We are not going to let that happen,” He said again. A quiver ran hastily through her body; she sagged into his side.

“Even if you are right, what will we do when we find her? She has drained the souls of so many people since stirring from her slumber last winter. Mother, Father, … We can’t possibly stop her.”

“The legend says that the last time a hag made her home on the edge of the swamp, the villagers killed her by setting her ablaze. We just have to do that,” he stated.

In Marla’s mind a plan began to take shape. She was the best shot in the village - She had been since the age of 10 when she shot a bird flanking low over the swamp waters at 500 meters. Since then, her skill and precision with her bow had only increased.

“If we can find her lair, I can shoot her with a flaming arrow,” She answered.

The next morning safe in the daylight, the siblings set off for the grass fields behind the drying building. From there, Marius tracked the black hue along the edge of the swamp. Thick mist muddled their view and soon they were far enough from the village that predators other than the Hag became a real concern. As Marius lead them forward, Marla’s eyes scanned the endless mist and searched for a spark of movement – the glint of eyes, the swish of a tail, the absence of sound that accompanied the big cats when they hunted.

Anything.

By midday, her nerves began to fray as Marius brought them to a halt. “We are getting close,” He whispered in Marla’s ear. “The black hue path that we have been following has merged with another path.” Marla rolled her shoulders back, nodded, and drew an arrow tipped in oil made from the mushrooms that grew at the edge of the swamp. In her breast pocket, the flint and stone sat heavily.

Marla knew that this was a fool’s errand. Surely if her brother knew the legend of how villagers had killed a hag decades, perhaps centuries, before, then the hunters must know too, must have tried the method already and failed. Still, hope kept company with the flint and stone as she willed the plan to work. Her mind shied away from losing the only family that she had left.

Nearly an hour later, a grass hovel, barely visible above the waterline, had Marius slowing. He indicated towards it with his chin. Marla nodded.

Now, the wait began.

When the Hag stirred from her crudely made home, Marla’s arrow would be waiting. As the sun began to sink over the horizon, Marius made a small fire with twigs careful of the wind and in which direction it would blow the smoke. The fire was barely built; the arrow was ready to fire by the time movement came from the depths of the hovel.

The beast that emerged was half women with a wrinkled face and hair the shade of the mountain rocks to the east and half monster with curved yellow talons that glinted ominously in the low light even as the sun set.

Marla drew a breath, her arrow nocked and ready.

The Hag lurched forward. Her movements blurred.

Marla gasped and her knees buckled. Soon she would meet Darren in that place beyond death.

Then, a clash of sparks. Her heartbeat that came too slow - The Hag had aimed not for Marla but for Marius. Yellowed talons sparked once more in a clash against his drawn sword.

“Marla, shoot.” He bellowed and pushed back the Hag.

In an instant, Marla’s arrow finally flew, but it was too late. The Hag already had her teeth clamped into Marius’ shoulder. His body shook. The arrow pierced through the night in a small trail of light. In pure anger Marla dipped a second oil-tipped arrow into the fire and let it fly faster than she thought possible.

Thump.

A beat of silence.

Thump.

A whirl of smoke.

Then, a high-pitched screech pierced the air. The Hag stumbled backwards patting at the flames that licked up her body.

And finally, silence descended as Marius’ sword swung high and cleaved the Hag’s head from her body.