Witch's Marsh prettier and younger but not any better off

While his own fury grew, the witch was not afraid. Insanely enough, she laughed. Cackled! A dark cackling that echoed in the woods, in her own way mocking his anger and the stranger's retaliation. A curse, a curse! A beshrew on thou wolf! She cried out with glee even as the mud splashed up on her twisted face, The bog shall beshrew thou as it seeps through thy skin, like poison, a venom till thou canst not feel anymore She danced around with lithe paws, muck slinging up with every step as she bounded around him.

Curse, curse, curse CURSE! She kept shrieking, letting her voice carry through the marsh and reverberate against themselves and the constant chanting meld with one another in a haunting melody. This should teach those stinky wolves a lesson on messing with the bog witch, let this one tell his tale and spread the news of her vile temper aginst their kind. And perhaps the next one would be kinder to the strange woman in the marsh, in fear of her magical wrath.