Witchy Tales: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Fairy Tale by Amanda M. Lee

not in him. Let’s go.”
    We followed Landon down the embankment and through the trees. The cries for help ceased, but somehow I knew which direction to go. I found Landon standing in the middle of a field, a herd of sheep happily munching grass around him, and fixed him with a quizzical look. “Who was screaming?”
    Landon shifted so I could see the young boy standing next to him. The boy was small, his skin pale, his gangly limbs gesturing emphatically as he pointed at the field.
    “Who are you?” I asked.
    “Daniel,” the boy said, flashing me an impish grin.
    “What are you doing out here, Daniel?” I asked, forcing my face to reflect welcome even though my stomach was churning. Landon may need to save people, but I sensed right away that something else was going on here.
    “I’m watching the sheep,” Daniel said.
    “Do they do tricks?” Thistle asked.
    “No way,” Daniel said. “They just munch and dump.”
    “That’s a nice visual,” Thistle said, causing me to crack a real smile. She clearly didn’t trust him either.
    “Should you be out here alone at night?” Landon asked, his cop face in place. “Where are your parents?”
    “They’re at home,” Daniel replied. “Watching the sheep is my job.”
    “You’re awfully young to have a job,” Landon said.
    “Um, Landon, this isn’t the real world,” Thistle reminded him. “No one is running afoul of child labor laws.”
    Landon ignored her. “Don’t you think it’s dangerous to be out here?”
    “Not really,” Daniel said, unruffled. “The only thing dangerous out here is the wolf.”
    “Wolf?”
    Oh, crap. I had a feeling I knew which story we were in. It was the one Aunt Tillie always warned us about as children when we started screaming and tattling on one another. “Landon … .”
    “It’s huge,” Daniel said, his eyes sparkling. “It’s like eight feet tall, and it walks on its hind legs and it steals sheep if I don’t watch out for it.”
    “And your parents think it’s safe for you to be out here watching the sheep even though there’s a wolf on the prowl?” Landon didn’t look convinced.
    “We make our money off the sheep,” Daniel explained. “They have to be watched. That’s my job.”
    “I think I should talk to your parents,” Landon said.
    “That’s not part of the story,” I said. “His parents have nothing to do with this … tale.”
    “And what tale is that?” Landon asked, shifting his eyes to me.
    “He’s the boy who cried wolf.”
    Landon furrowed his brow, confused. “You’re saying he’s making it up?”
    “It’s one of Aunt Tillie’s favorite stories,” Thistle said. “She always accused us of doing it when we were kids.”
    I hated the conflicted look on Landon’s face. He believed us, and yet the idea of leaving a child out in a field to fend for himself didn’t sit right with him. “How can you be sure the wolf isn’t real? There are wolves in fairy tales all of the time.”
    “There are,” I conceded. “Even if it is real, though, this is still just a story. This isn’t real.”
    “I’m real,” Daniel said. “I’m right here.”
    I smiled at him kindly. “I know. I think you should probably call it a night, though, and go back home. That would be best for everyone.”
    “What about the sheep?”
    “I’m sure they’ll still be here in the morning,” I said. Hopefully we wouldn’t be here to make sure.
    “I can’t,” Daniel said. “It’s my job to watch the sheep.”
    “I still want to talk to your parents,” Landon said. “Where are they?”
    “I already told you,” Daniel said. “They’re home.”
    “Landon, we don’t have time to walk miles to this kid’s house and have a deep discussion about parental obligations with them,” I said. “That’s not why we’re here.”
    “Isn’t this my tale?”
    I nodded.
    “Then I’m going to talk to his parents.”
    I wanted to shake him back to his senses. Instead, I turned to Marcus for