No one ever bothered Rachael. They were afraid to.

She had lived alone in the cottage near the edge of the wood ever since her husband Tom had died, seven years ago. There was nothing extraordinary about the clean, whitewashed house, or the scented flowers hugging its walls, still the villagers were often seen crossing themselves as moved hastily past on their journeys to and from town. The local children were warned to stay out of the butterfly haunted garden,and told never, never to speak to her.

Rachael was protected, you see. Anyone or anything that had ever threatened her with harm had come to destruction, sooner or later. A rabid dog had once approached her on the village outskirts. She never saw it, as it had come up behind her, but a nearby goodwife had witnessed the incident, and spread the tale. The dog had lunged to bite in a mad fury...and had dropped stone dead not ten feet from her.

And no one really knew what had happened to Gil, the town ne'er-do-well. The last anyone had seen of him, he had been bragging in the tavern. He spoke of how lonely she must be, and about how much she would enjoy a lusty roll with him. No one really paid him any mind, and he left in his usual sodden state. His body was found in the wood in back of the cottage, untouched. The doctor said his heart had given out. The villagers said Rachael had stopped it for him.

John the huntsman came to one Sunday meeting, and spoke of seeing her several times in the wood, alone in a glade,fingering the strange necklace she always wore. He swore she was communing with spirits, as he had heard her whispering softly though no one was with her. Still, no one could prove anything...all one could do was stay away from her.

This enforced solitude didn't seem to bother Rachael. She went about her business quietly, happily tending her garden and occasionally offering succor to a stray or wild beast in need. She was well content with her lot, and seemed to know no loneliness..until Aaron arrived.

Aaron was a gypsy...handsome, with dark, laughing eyes, rook's wing hair and the lean, hard body of a mountain cat. He heard of the widow while selling trinkets in the village and was intrigued. He was a pagan, with no fear of a Christian god, but he did have a deep understanding and respect for the powers of the spirit realm. "Such power as this," he thought to himself, "could make a gypsy's life easier. I must know more."

Aaron was no stranger to the soft hearts of ladies, and capable of great guile. He made a camp a discreet distance away...to show his good intentions...and he began to woo her carefully and slowly. It was not unpleasant work. Rachael was a pretty young thing, with golden hair,deep blue eyes and a sweet engaging demeanor. He drew her out with questions about her garden, her home, and her past, and she quickly came to trust him. It didn't take much longer before it was obvious to both of them that she was beginning to have deeper feelings. But throughout all this, he learned nothing of her powers.

He was packing his camp one eve, having decided that the villagers were fools, and there was nothing to gain by staying, when he heard Rachael's voice coming from nearby in the wood. He approached stealthily, and finally came upon a tiny moonlit glade. She was sitting on a rock with her eyes closed, her unbound hair all about her face and shoulders, talking softly. He noticed that she constantly fiddled with something around her neck. He moved closer, casting wary glances about for any signs of spirits...but he saw no one. He attempted to move closer, lost his footing on a loose branch underfoot, and stumbled blindly into a thicket.

Rachael rose, wide eyed, clutching the necklace. "Who is it?" she called out, her voice trembling.

Cursing softly, Aaron pulled himself out of the thorns and composed his face.

"Only I," he answered quickly. "I heard your voice and was afraid for you all alone in the forest, so I came to see to your safety."

She gave a relieved sigh, and blushed becomingly. "I'm sorry. I often come out here...it comforts me."

She had released her hold on the necklace, and he could see it clearly now. It was a small, polished moonstone in a strange silver setting. The setting had been fashioned in the shape of branch wrapped around the stone, as if guarding it. The stone reflected the moonlight with an eerie glow that fascinated Aaron. He was unable to take his eyes from it. It hung from a delicate silver chain, the links barely thicker than a strand of the hair.

"It's beautiful," he breathed. "How did you come by such a stone?"

She smiled gently, and held it up for him to look at, her eyes soft with memory. "It was my husband's," she whispered. "An inheritance,passed down through generations.He gave it to me on the day we were wed, and bid me wear it always..and so I have..and always will."

Aaron's mind reeled. A talisman! Of course! This must be the source of her protection! Of her power!

Keeping his face carefully composed, he asked, "May I touch it?" He edged closer to her, hardly daring to breathe, to hope...but driven to try.

Rachael cocked her head and him, bird-like, and smiled.

"Of course," she answered. "If you like."

She raised the stone from her bosom and held it up to him, nestled in the palm of her hand.

He reached out slowly, carefully. Everything rested on his actions now. Time stopped for him as he lifted the stone gingerly from her hand, closing his thumb and forefinger tenderly on it. For a moment, its fragile beauty almost stopped him...he had a brief glimpse of sunlight and laughter..of a life with a golden haired woman in a butterfly garden..of a life full of love and joy. He felt the warmth of a small, delicate bridling resting in his hand, trusting to his protection.

His heart closed, with a snap, overwhelmed by his dark, lifelong desire for power. In that bold surge of an instant, he clasped the stone in his hand, and pulled suddenly with all his strength.

The chain broke easily. Rachael stepped back with a startled cry, as Aaron raised the stone clutched in his hand with a shout of triumph.

"Now your power is mine, stupid woman!" he cried.

"No," she gasped, "Please.."

He raised a hand to strike her..to silence her and keep her from following him, when he felt a sudden, sharp pain lance through his chest, taking his breath away. Even in his distress he did not let the talisman go. He clutched his hand to his heart, the stone clenched within it. As the world grew dark around him, he whimpered, "No. I have the stone..this cannot be!"

Rachael, terrified, fainted dead away.

Aaron felt his spirit leaving his body, drifting into the air, looking down at his helpless body falling to the ground. He could feel the presence of spirits all around him. Suddenly he felt a surge of wrath and hatred from one them that caused him to wail and cringe. A voice thundered behind him.

"It was never the stone, you wretch! She was beginning to love you! You!! And I was going to let her! You will pay for the pain you would have brought her!"

Aaron wailed again, for what was lost and for what was to be...for eternity. His spirit fled the glade, followed by his tormentor, and all was silent in the wood once more.

Rachael awoke the next morning in her pillowed bed, the sun shining brightly through the open window. In the moment before fully rousing, she felt the tiniest thrill of fear, and reached for the stone around her neck. Its smooth, cool surface calmed her, as always.

"I've had a bad dream.." she whispered, with a soft laugh. She ran a finger along the edge of the delicate chain, frowning as she came a tiny imperfection.

"Hmmm..I must have scraped it across something," she sighed. "I really should be more careful."

She rose and stretched, already planning her day. If she wasn't too tired tonight, she would go to the glade to talk to Tom. She knew it was a foolish habit..but she couldn't help feeling that he was with her somehow, protecting her...in death, as in life.