“Well, next time you need help, you should talk to the grass, maybe it will give you some advice.” The corner of his mouth twitched.
Her eyes slid his way. “Still better than yours.”
Chapter 11
THE WITCHES OF EMERALD CAPES
The air was only getting frostier as they were pacing deeper in the woods. Violette didn't notice straight away as snow began to appear on the trees they were passing, and the further they walked, the whiter tall ancient spruces became until finally the ground under their feet also turned to a sparkling white blanket.
The steam came out with Violette's breath along with the snow cracking under her boots. The magnificent absolute silence followed them, while the stars sparkled in the sky, as clear as the snowon the needles of fir trees under the warm light of a lantern. Meanwhile, the moon hid behind the clouds.
If it weren't for a thick cloak, Violette would have become an icicle long ago. The cold was biting and even managed to creep through the crack of the fabric as she shifted from foot to foot.
Strange sounds began to creep from afar. The closer they came, the more clearly it sounded as if they were approaching a celebration. The muffled music was reminiscent of cheerful dancing and there was something warm about it, although Violette was completely unfamiliar with the tune.
She recognized drums and the strings of guitar. A golden alluring light began to pour through the needle-pointed branches, so bright against the backdrop of the dark night and the white pines.
A few more steps and a circular glade appeared in front of her eyes. In the middle of it, a large fire was burning, spewing tongues of yellow bright flame into the air. But her attention was riveted to the female figures in long cloaks of an amazing emerald hue, dancing around. Their silhouettes moved to the beat of the music, the source of which Violette hadn't seen, though it was the last thing on her mind. The admiration in her eyes was burning with every second of the performance.
The witches' dance was dynamic and synchronous, even hypnotizing. Orange pumpkins in their hands were tossed over and over again in the air as they were catching them each time. Sometimes the pumpkins passed from one hand to others, while thewitches were changing poses in this wonderful rhythm. As the women raised their heads to the sky, Violette finally noticed that the guest of honor of the celebration – the crescent moon – had finally graced them with its presence.
“This doesn't look like a feast,” Violette said, attentively watching the witches as a golden ethereal glow was forming around them like a magical sand, a pollen that covered the snow and emerged in a matter of time.
“It's a ritual,” Dante answered, moving around the perimeter. “They are welcoming the birth of the moon and gaining their strength from nature, or so they claim.”
“And what should we do? They seem to be quite busy. How can we make them talk to us?”
“It's simple,” he said and pushed Violette to the circle. “Dance.”
“What?” Violette’s eyes darted at him but then she found herself between flowing cloaks and whirling skirts.
The snow under her feet shone brighter, spreading an aureate tracery out, as if the circle was not just made by these witches, but existed on its own. Violette looked around: the women were moving to the beat, repeating the same movements so strange and unusual that she couldn't figure out what to do without looking completely goofy. She tried to repeat some of their moves with her hands, and if the witches had not been so busy with their ritual, they would have definitely noticed a strangeramong them. One inadvertent step back and she happened to push one of the witches.
“Hey!”
“I am so sorry, I–” Before Violette could finish, the woman dramatically waved the hem of her cloak and continued dancing.
Violette worried her lower lip between her teeth.
The witches were raising their hands to the moon, their feet never remaining still. The gold dust kept spilling out of the pumpkins thrown in the air and falling onto the white ground absorbing into the snow. With smooth movements they'd drawn different figures in the air and then their dance turned into a pure saltation. All at once they stopped, sharply twirled in place, ran up to the fire and back, depicting new inexplicable figures. Some of their actions were so sharp and powerful, sudden enough to continue to pick up on the train of their thoughts and repeat it in a perfect rhythm.
Violette was spinning in place as she glanced at Dante. He stood by a tall tree, his arms crossed over his chest, and she might not see his face but she had no doubt he was definitely smiling, or rather mocking her clumsiness.
As soon as the dance ended, the witches threw gold dust into the air. Violette didn't know what kind of powder it was, what kind of magic, but it was a mesmerizing thing to watch as the golden flecks with a tranquil tickling were slowly falling onto the snow-white ground against the darkness of night.
The aglow specks of dust dissolved under her feet, leaving the snow as white as it was before. Surprisingly, the ground underfoot didn't seemtrampled, the snow remained as clean and fluffy as if not touched before.
As witches dispersed and started talking to each other, Violette hurried back to Dante.
The vampire was still standing under the tree’s shadow, leaning against its trunk. If she hadn't been so focused on finding him, she probably wouldn't have seen him at all. He looked like a mysterious stranger who seemed to be able to force the shadows to hide him from unwanted eyes.
Suddenly Violette heard a voice behind her, soft and kind, like snow itself, only much warmer.
“You're not one of us. And it doesn't seem as if you're a new one, who are you?”
Violette spun to see a girl, presumably the same age as her.
She followed Violette after the dance, the only one who seemed to notice her. The witch looked friendly and curious. Her curly light brown hair was falling in waves on her shoulders, pretty messy bangs touching her long lashes. Her gaze was dreamy, eyes sparkling like stars.
