Colette

Hard Time.

It was a bird that she could be sure, it had a broken wing and died on her cabin's windowsill. The giggles of little snot nosed children could be heard. It was easy for her track them, the trees saw all and through them so did she. 

When she found them, they were playing with another bird corpse, one was clearly the ringleader, egging the others on. As she approached the ringleader, a kid no older than twelve, clad in expensive clothing chattered on to the others "Oh look fellas, it's the woods harlot." All the while throwing insults the kid was tossing a large stick from hand to hand.

"You cherish your strength, your size." A statement not a question, the boy tilted his head at Colette as if he wasn't expecting her to see the inner workings of his young mind. A warm hand was placed on his shoulder and a word whispered into his ear.

His friends screamed and ran as the feathers sprouted from his skin and his nose and mouth stretched and extended, by the end he was a small bird exhausted from the pain of the transformation.

With cruel eyes full of hate the witch lightly stepped on the bird-child's wing, cracking noises and loud chirping can be heard "I'd never do this to a -real- animal but you're not, you deserve to know how it feels to call out for help and never get any because of how small you are, feel weak and die."

The witch wandered back to her cabin, visions of the cellar she was bound in and the torture she endured filling her mind.