She found the kittens in the woods, tiny and terrified. "Where's your mother?"
The laughter of hags encircled her as if in answer. The kittens hid themselves in her skirt pockets.
"You stole them for tea?"
"So we did," said the first hag.
"A tasty snack they'll make!" agreed the second.
"Now give them back!" demanded the third.
"Oh, no. I couldn't do that."
A gust of wind arose, sending leaves and twigs to dance in the air.
"You'll not withstand our storm, witch."
She smiled, then, for a witch she was. "I am not afraid of you . . . or you . . . or you," she said, turning on tiptoe towards each hag as she raised her wand high.
The lightning was loud and bright, and it revealed as she spun that she was at once the wind—and the hags cowered—the rain—and the hags covered their faces—and the thunder.
"I am not afraid of anything because I AM THE STORM!
And the hags fled.
Amidst the dripping branches, a question arose: "Mrrreeeowww?"
"Oh, it's quite safe now," answered the witch, "but we need a drying charm, don't we?"
"And to feed you." She conjured a basket. "Would you like to be friends?"
The kittens clambered into it.
"Oh, good! Now then," she continued, petting each kitten in turn. "I think I'll call you Lover," she said to the white kitten with a black heart on its back, "you, Pumpkin," she told the orange tabby kitten, "and you, Tabitha," she explained to the tortoiseshell kitten.
"What's that, Tabitha? You want to know my name?"
Tabitha rubbed against the witch's hand.
"Well, of course you do. You can't go accepting food from a stranger. That wouldn't be safe at all." She picked up the basket and stood. "I'm called Luna."