They entered the small house and smoke stung at her eyes and throat, her body going tense at the reminder of where she had been not long ago. But this smoke smelled not like the horrid plastic smell but of fresh trees and leaves, the way a sauna smelled when birch leaves were burned. It was just one large room with a fireplace directly to the right. An elderly looking woman sat, a black headscarf bound over her hair and under her chin. She was stirring the contents of a pot that was hanging just above the crackling fire, constantly keeping an eye on it, just acknowledging Ellen with a small bow of her head as if she wasn’t at all surprised to see her. A small table in the middle where a few plates and spoons lay neatly. It was much too hot, both being heated from the warm day as well as the fire. She would not stay a moment longer in this place than she absolutely had to.

Along the back and left walls were two wooden sofas, one of them had the lid removed and turned into a bed. She walked closer to take a look at the small boy who lay there. Like the others in the family he looked gaunt, his cheeks sunken. He reminded her of how her brother had looked many years ago, the last time her parents had allowed her to see him. His face had also been sunken, revealing the skull beneath. His breath gushed in and out rapidly wheezing. Whatever this place was, it wasn’t heaven.

She carefully lay a hand to his moist forehead, feeling the burning heat coming from within him. Withdrawing her hand she looked up at his father who stood next to her, his face was drawn an expression of agony as he looked at his child.

“We should probably take him out of here.” She suggested.

He nodded at her, he swallowed his adams apple bobbing in his slender throat.

“Best not let him die inside.” He answered.

“It’s too hot in here, if we take him out in the shade he might cool down a bit.” She didn’t know if it was a good idea to give him hope. “Take him outside and then we will see if I can do something more.”

He picked up the boy lying within a thick wool blanket and walked out with him, placing him in a patch of tall grass close to the house.

Ellen surveyed the boy, pulling away the blanket to cool him. He was obviously malnourished as well as very ill. This whole place reminded her of books she had read when she was much younger, books about the extreme poverty of farmers in the eighteen hundreds, one bad crop and they starved. It was one of the reasons that so many had moved to America, they didn’t have anything left to lose. Maybe she had time travelled, but that must be something that she would investigate later.

“When did he last eat?” She asked.

“He has hardly been eating at all the last two days, he grew weak and began to sleep constantly. That was when we prayed for a witch to come and help us.”

So, she was a witch and they believed that she could help.

“I think that the first thing we need to do is get him to eat and drink. Could I try giving him some water?”

He nodded at her and went into the house. Elijah soon followed him out running to get a pale. He was holding a small bowl in his hand that was smoking hot. He gave it to her together with a crudely carved spoon. The substance swam lazily in the bowl, it was a thin gruel made of what looked like flour and mostly water.

“Don’t you have something with meat in it, or vegetables. This will not be enough.”

He shook his head sadly.

“But you have a whole field filled with wheat, don’t you have any other food? I could go and buy some food if there is a shop nearby.” She felt herself grappling, this food that they had was hardly food.

He looked questioningly at her.

“Shop?” He echoed. “In the city there are shops, but we only go there once or twice a year.”

“This is a farm, do you have any animals?”

He shook his head once again, he was fidgeting with his clog against the ground, clenching his fists. The words from him burst out like water breaking from a dam.

“We have nothing. I sold or slaughtered everything we could during the winter, we have the grains for porridge but no milk, no eggs. I thought witches could help, I prayed to have a witch sent to us so we could heal him and she could help us prosper. All you can do is complain and ask us about what we already know. He is starving and most likely as good as dead. My wife will be next, she has been giving them every morsel that she can spare.”

She could see him holding back, his mouth drawn as a thin line. He didn’t want her to know how weak and helpless he was in the face of starvation.

“I’ll help as best I can. But you need to answer a few questions. This is a new place for me, I don’t know anything about where I am or who you are. I do want to help. I don’t want your son to die.” She could feel her power draining. Today she had been in a horrible accident and now she would try and stop this child from dying no matter if it was only a vivid dream or if this was to be her afterlife.

She asked about how long they had been starving and if they could hunt or fish. Their supplies had been bad to begin with but as winter had progressed they had sold their cow and slaughtered their hens who they couldn’t feed during that time. Even when summer arrived they had not been able to grow anything except the grains in the field, but that was only because they had gotten seeds from Ivan the village master. They would owe him the majority of their harvest once it was ready.

Fishing and hunting were out of the question, Ivan owned the rights to all the land and anyone who fished or hunted would be punished.

“What if I go out and fish? Is there a good place to catch fish around here?”

“But if he finds out he will punish you.”

“I think that you’re son will recover better if we can get some other food into him, boys need more than this,” she indicated the bowl of slop, “I am here to help you and if I have to be punished then I will accept it.” She could feel herself beginning to nervously babel. This was something she did when she didn’t know what to say then more or less anything could come spilling out even though it made no sense. She had no experience of how to catch fish, though in movies it didn’t look very difficult.

“I will show you to the river. But we don’t have anything to catch fish with.”

“No matter, I will catch them with my bare hands.” She had once read in a survivalists handbook that if you were really careful it was possible to sneak up on fish and catch them. Now that she had claimed it as a skill she would have to try it.