One day a king was out hunting on a mountain, and he rose a hare which was lying in some heather. The hare immediately [bega?] to run for the top of the mountain and the king followed.
He fired an arrow at her. It struck her but she only tumbled over and in a [mind?] she was up and off again. The king fired again, but the same thing happened, every-time was the same.
An old man then came up to the king and told him that the (I) have was an old witch, and she could be killed only by a silver kipped arrow. The king then took a silver tipped arrow, fitted it, and fired. The arrow hit her and she fell over again, but it was not long until it was running again. But this time
- Shaun Mac Intyre