They heard the screaming for three nights.
At first, it was low, more like a moan than anything. A cow in labour, they thought.
But the second day, it was high, whistling through the night, curdling the blood.
By the third night, they were sure.
It was the banshee’s scream.
They knew what it meant.
She knew someone would die.
She just didn’t know it would be her.