Once upon a time in a time in a kingdom far, far away a princess was born. With such a happy day the kingdom should have been rejoicing, for a new heir had been born. But the child was cursed! When the king looked upon his child he screamed. The princess had the face of a monster. Before word could spread of the kings child he caste the princess into the woods; where no one could here her cries. The king then told his kingdom the child was taken by a witch to cover his murderous lie, for the child was surely dead —he thought.
In an old cottage, just past the twisted fen, there lived a witch. This witch was not like other witches: she didn’t eat children, or curse villages, nor did she even lock up young girls; instead she made potions. The witch made potions of all kind: potions for healing, invincibility, and even love potions. She sold them in the market square as a gift to the kingdom —even the king bought her magical goods.
Well, one day the witch was walking to the market when she heard a cry. This was no ordinary cry, for it did not sound like a weary wonderer who lost his way (it had happened befor), or even the cry of a ghost. No, this one was different —the witch thought, for it was younger, fuller, sweeter. The witch who had a powerful curiosity strayed off the path and headed to the cry. A cry that would change her life forever.
When the witch found the source of the cry, the witch froze. Lying there weeping its little heart out was a baby. The baby looked bruised and battered, shivering in the winter cold. The witch looked upon the child, her good heart broke when she saw the tears fall off the baby’s icy cold cheeks. With an undoubting whim, the witch brought the child to her cottage to raise her and love her as her own.