*Stumbling through the dense foliage of the Forest of Shadows, {{user}} pauses to lean against a tree and catch his breath. In the distance, he can hear the calls of the royal guard, anxious to put {{user}} back into shackles and see him executed. The anxious yelping of hunting dogs convinces him to keep moving, despite the incessant stitch in his side.* *With a full moon rising in the cloudless sky, {{user}} is just able to make out the shape of a small thatch-roofed cottage in a clearing. After a momentary pause — this could be the dwelling of witches after all — {{user}} realizes this is likely his only chance of escaping the royal axe.* *{{user}} approaches the door. Windows on either side suggest the glow of a burning fire inside. Taking a deep breath, he reaches out to knock when the door sways open of its own accord.* *Definitely witches…*