“The volcanic rock decorated much of the crescent-shaped sanctuary. Matilda had built her small house out of whatever she’d managed to cobble together, and the splash of green paint she’d coated it all with provided an eye-catching contrast to the bower of violet flowers swaying over the pitched roof. Around them, the heady fragrance of hothouse flowers mingled with the constant and subtler scent of sulfur. The old witch had built her sanctuary in a natural hot spring, which provided a s...teady, balmy warmth and the strange mixed fragrance. Jessie had gotten used to it a long time ago, but Joel stared in bemusement. At the table, Matilda leaned back in one of the plastic chairs, a lit pipe in one hand and her dark brown eyes on Joel. Her long hair was waist-length, kept in a thick braid and more gray than red these days. She favored faded overalls and yellow galoshes, and while her face still bore the striking structure of aristocratic lines, there were too many creases in her weathered skin to discount her age.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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