Live ho the wicked old witch…the wicked old witch…the wicked old witch. Live hale the wicked old witch…Ye’ll surely mourn her death. The last person anybody ever expected to get into trouble was the crone. I’d believed she was pretty much bomb proof. I mean, who in their right mind would go after a two-thousand-year-old witch who was also a magical historian? The problem was, I didn’t know what took her down. But something did. Whatever it was, it left her hovering on the razor edge of death. If I don’t kick it into gear and go after her attacker, the old witch’s present condition could become permanent. And then I’d have a grieving teen to deal with. As well as an extremely irritated magical horse.