Levina and Rebecca exchanged glances, but Rebecca's eyes did not hold any of the surprises that Levina's did.
Returning her gaze to the dark cell, Levina squinted as she struggled to make out the face of the thick figure hiding in the dark. A stifled gasp escaped her lips as the old woman stepped into the light.
Zalla was the exact depiction of wicked old witches conjured in nighttime stories to scare children into being good and obedient. She had a crooked, short nose and large saggy breasts that hung lazily on her stomach. Her skin was soggy, and clear folds could be seen through the thin material, while her shoulders slouched from the weight of time. Being the oldest known living witch did not look good.
"I am not Leah; my name is..." Levina began.
"Oh," Zalla moved closer to the bars, clenching her frail fingers around the metal. "You may not be Leah, but you are her," she chuckled. She stretched out her finger to caress Levina's face, but Levina caught her hand in midair.
