In a dark, musty hut, Granny Weatherwax was playing a game with Death.
This wasn't by any means the first time it had happened. Granny knew her stuff, and if she thought there was a chance to make a bargain for a life, she'd give it a go.
He'd stopped agreeing to poker, though. She was much too good.
They were playing Battleship.
Granny's face was intense with concentration. Death's face was... a skull.
'How long does it usually take?' Agnes asked Susan.
She was cross-legged on the floor, as far from the game as possible. Susan had spread out her cloak and was sitting demurely upon it. She shrugged.
'I'm not often around,' she said. 'But not too long, I don't think. I think even Grandad gets a bit worried by Mistress Weatherwax.'
'She's a bit formidable, isn't she?' said Agnes.
'She's a force of nature,' agreed Susan.
They watched. The game was close. Granny glared at her little wooden boats without blinking.
'You know, if she ever retired, it could be you doing this,' Susan said.
'If he did, it could be you,' said Agnes.
They met one another's eyes, then looked away.