Tanfelina Lacramora

In her cumbersome headpiece, stuffed for volume with intoxicating dried herbs and owl feathers, she hides the stolen night’s peace of the local townsfolk and a hedgehog lost in the dark. She enjoys slipping a pinch of disappointment, tailbone aches, and thoughts of other people's husbands into her witchy sachets of gifts. With a mere snap of her fingers, she untangles the knottiest of human dilemmas, only to haunt the sufferers to their graves with biting reminders and barbs of haughty pity. She infuses crystal beads with curses and fastens them with tiny black brooches to the caps of particularly noisy infants. Anyone bold enough to exclude her from a feast is doomed to pay with fits of donkey hiccups, coupled with an irresistible urge to proselytize veganism. Before dawn, she rides on Surozlea's back, shamelessly reveling in her steed’s suffering, occasionally allowing her a mournful howl as she digs her heel into the nerve center of her spine.