The Riverwoman’s Dragon

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As the days lengthened and the pale green leaves of early spring, delicate as an infant’s fingers and toes, swelled to complete the forest canopy, a cruel visitor wound its way north along the roads and the waterways, sowing fear and sorrow. All knew of its coming, for it had called on a few unsuspecting households near York in the golden light of August past. The two youngest Wolcotts, an infant and a toddler, had succumbed. The manqualm taking the most precious members of a family disrupted the balance of affections. But Magda Digby had sensed trouble brewing among them long before, the Death merely coaxing out the poison. Other families were touched as well – children, parents, elders. All knew that it was merely a taste of what was to come as summer returned. The pattern was known: warm weather ripened it until it burst forth, spreading its seed. All were wary, looking for scapegoats on whom to hang the blame.

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