The rain had final­ly stopped, leav­ing the roof unmarked and ready. As they pon­dered the bal­loon’s hes­i­ta­tion above, Will mused that they need­ed to act first, wor­ried about the Witch dis­cov­er­ing their plans. In his room, he reflect­ed on his Boy Scout archery set, won­der­ing if he could out­smart her. He did­n’t want her to report back for days about their secre­tive doings. Stealth­ily, he grabbed his bow and quiver, and opened the win­dow to com­mu­ni­cate with the Witch through his thoughts and feel­ings, aware that although she could­n’t read minds, she might sense his excite­ment and vic­to­ry over her.

At the clock­’s chime, sig­nal­ing four in the morn­ing, Will shout­ed for the Witch to return, claim­ing the roof was clean from their rain. His con­fi­dence surged as he felt the earth shift beneath the bal­loon, urg­ing the Witch to come back, feel­ing wild as he raced out­side, fueled by adren­a­line. He reached the aban­doned Red­man house, where silence hov­ered omi­nous­ly, and opened the door to dark­ness and dust. Climb­ing up the crum­bling stairs to the roof, he con­cealed his weapons behind the chim­ney, where he could keep an eye on the approach­ing bal­loon.

The witch, sens­ing the boy’s pres­ence, hov­ered near­by, grow­ing frus­trat­ed and sus­pi­cious. Will remained calm, using his wits to dis­tract her as she inhaled and exhaled anx­ious­ly. As she cir­cled the bal­loon, Will took a stand, dar­ing her to come clos­er, feel­ing the ten­sion rise. When their prox­im­i­ty reached its peak, he quick­ly grabbed at some­thing familiar—the rem­nants of his archery sup­plies, now turned cru­cial for his defense.

Just as he was about to release an arrow, the bow broke, shat­ter­ing his plan. The Witch, sens­ing vic­to­ry, breathed a sigh of relief, obliv­i­ous to the impend­ing dan­ger. In a des­per­ate last effort, Will flung an arrow­head at the bal­loon, which began to tear, releas­ing a tor­rent of air and col­or as tumult erupt­ed around them. He lost his grip and fell, but a near­by tree broke his fall, leav­ing him hang­ing amidst the branch­es to wit­ness the bal­loon’s chaot­ic retreat.

Will remained sus­pend­ed in the tree, heart rac­ing but alive, col­lect­ing him­self as the sur­round­ing world fell silent, the bal­loon spi­ral­ing away with the Witch’s dis­tant cries echo­ing into the night. After a moment, he calmed down, find­ing solace and gath­er­ing his strength before care­ful­ly climb­ing down to the ground.

Wait­ing ai

Wait­ing ai