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23 K ate G ale Red Salamander “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” I raise a cautious hand, “What’s a witch?” “What do you think?” he looks over his glasses to see who interrupts the flow of God. “A witch is a story? like the witch that wants to eat you in Hansel and Gretel?” “A witch is a woman who practices the occult, or reads horoscopes, or talks to animals,” he says, and continues to read who else God will not suffer to live. I walk on dead leaves through woods touching oak and maple trees. “Occult, horoscope,” I say, mouthing unfamiliar words like candy. I almost step on a red salamander walking on wet earth toward clear water. “How are you today, Mr. Salamander?” I pick him up on leaves. I’ve heard he likes his skin kept cool. I don’t want to warm him with my fingers. “Mr. Salamander,” I look in his beady eyes, his tail flickers, his whole body twists like rubber. I put him down, lean into a tree to watch him slither away. I look around, did anyone hear? ...

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