"Oh, rats." The redhead sat down again. "I thought you might be a hero. You can talk them into anything. Stupid creatures."

"Who are you?" I asked. "And why are you worried about wizards?"

"I suppose it won't matter if I tell you," she said after thinking for a minute. "They're chasing me. My name's Shiara," she added.

"Wizards are chasing you? More than one?" I was impressed. Wizards usually don't cooperate much, even the ones who belong to the Society of Wizards. At least, that's what Mother always told me. "What did you do?"

Shiara hesitated, then threw her hair back over her shoulder with a toss of her head. "I," she said defiantly, "am a fire-witch."

You're a fire-witch?" Well, she had the red hair for it, but that doesn't always mean someone is a fire-witch.

She must have heard the doubt in my voice, because she scowled at me.

"I am a fire-witch! I am!"

"I didn't say you weren't," I said hastily. That only seemed to make it worse.

"You don't believe me! But I am so a fire-witch[ I am! I am!" By the time she finished, she was shouting. She glared at me, and her hair burst into flame.

That settled it. "I believe you, I believe you," I said. "Uh, shouldn't you do something about your hair?"

Shiara burst into tears and her hair went out.

I stood there feeling silly and useless. Finally I remembered my handkerchief.

Mother made me carry one all the time, even to chop wood, so I actually had it with me. I pulled it out and offered it to her.

After a couple of sniffs, she took it and mopped her face, but she didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," I said finally. "I didn't mean to make you mad."

"Well, you did," she snapped. She crumpled the handkerchief into a little ball and threw it at me.

I caught it and stuffed it back into my pocket. "I said I was sorry."

"I can't help having a temper," Shiara said crossly. "All fire-witches do."