“She’s just a lonely old lady,” his mother said. “The least you can do is say hello.”
Owl mumbled something. Then, after his mother left the kitchen, his sister leaned across the table, until her chin was almost touching it. He did the same.
“There’s more to it than that,” she whispered. “And you know it.”
“She’s a witch,” he said.
“Nope, an oracle, she can see the future,” his sister said. “And the reason you feel this dread when you see her is because you are absolutely terrified of what you’ll become when you finally manage to grow up.”