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You look at the wooden sword, think about playing with it - but it makes you feel like a silly child. Your ears suddenly redden with the taunt of that horrible, evil Hooded Old Man. Why is a mighty wizard tormenting a weakling child, turning them into animals, but so very slowly... He... he should be flinging spells and scorching cruel murderers like Unferth! Not mischievous murderous children, like you... The thought makes you want to almost cry in frustration, but instead of sobs, you can only manage some noises in between mewling and croaking.
The interior of Old Grandmother's dwelling always appears larger on the inside than on the outside, as it sinks into the trunk of the old tree. The interior is suffused in a warm orange glow, the scent of herbs and spices by a gently steaming fire-lit cauldron. There are small effigies of twine and twigs dangling from the roof beams, lantern cages of candles, trinkets and chimes, beads, pebbles and feathers scattered all around. Of Old Grandmother Kospelina herself, no sight is to be found.
Before you can search the surroundings further, a shadow glides behind you -
