Haints

“So...if you’re all witches, are these your familiars?” Lily held up one of the kittens recently born in the hay loft. Light filtered through cracks in the barn walls. Hay dust floated in it like specs of gold. The morning had dawned cloudy, and the wet grass testified to rain the night before. But the day was shaping up to be sunny. The kitten mewed, a sound like the tiniest rusty hinge.