SAVE7 - PLAYTIME 00:02:06 Dry patches of grass crackled beneath the witch’s mary-janes. It was humid out, almost unbearably so. She thought for a second about whether she should have been wearing tights, a knit sweater, and overalls on top of it all— Sweaty fibers clung to her skin like prey in a spider’s web. Just as quickly, though, she dashed the thought away, imagining her father as he…