Page 2 of The Witch's Rite
Harrison wrinkles his tiny pink nose. “Wispfish would be better.”
His seriousness makes me laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind should I ever need to leave you an offering.”
“As you should.” There’s a playful lilt to his voice and a gleam to his vibrant green eyes. “Are we going to the fairy hollow?”
“We are.”
Immediately, he bounds ahead of me, vanishing into the thick greenery before I have time to even realize where he’s gone. I keep up my slow pace, taking time to appreciate the beauty of summer all around me. It always goes by too fast, this warm time of year, and I try to take time every day to really look at the world around me, at the ladybugs spotting the leaves and the tiny white flowers growing in clusters along the river. There’s always beauty to be found, if only one takes a moment to look.
When I step into the grove of oak trees a few minutes later, Harrison is already sitting in a patch of sunlight, tail wrapped around his paws, waiting.
This grove was one of Auntie’s favorite spots, and she brought me here often when I was a child. She’s the one who showed me the fairy hollow, a little depression in the hillside, surrounded by trees and wildflowers, with the babble of the river not far off.This is where Auntie always left her offerings for the fairies, and I intend to continue that tradition.
Harrison watches in silence as I sink to my knees in the grass before the hollow. Leaning forward, I transfer the rosemary biscuits and apple slices into the fairy hollow, then sit back with the platter resting in my lap. Closing my eyes, I speak the blessing Auntie taught me all those years ago.
“Gentle spirits of the land, I come to you with tokens in hand. With this gift, I honor thee and seek your grace and harmony.”
A gentle summer wind swirls around me, tossing my hair.
They’re here.
With a smile, I continue.
“May this offering bring delight, great spirits of beauty and light. Bless this place with joy and peace, and may this friendship never cease.”
Another warm wind dances around the grove, and this time I can just faintly hear the sound of bells and laughter as the fair folk pass me by. In but a moment, they’re gone, and when I open my eyes, the offerings I left in the hollow have vanished save for a few tiny crumbs. I guess they like rosemary after all.
Harrison blinks up at me when I look his way.
“Did you see them?” I ask, standing from my spot before the hollow.
I’ve never seen one of them, but Auntie told me she once met a member of the Seelie Court. Seeing any of the fair folk is rare, but meeting one of the court fairies, at least according to what I’ve been told and learned at Coven Crest Academy, the school for witches and warlocks, is almost unheard of. But I’m not surprised in the least that Auntie had such an opportunity. She was always special that way, with a big heart and eyes open to a world of magic and wonder.
“The fairies?” Harrison cants his head. “Of course. I always see them.”
Something in his voice—or maybe it’s the twitching of his tail—gives me pause, and I arch an eyebrow. “You don’t chase them, do you?”
“No,” he says, but I’m not at all convinced. One of his favorite hobbies is chasing anything that moves—including Alden’s feet when we’re lying in bed at night.
“Harrison!” I scold.
With a purr of delight, Harrison bounds away once more, leaving me to chase after him the rest of the way back to the cottage.
Chapter 2
Aurora
HARRISON OPTS TO STAY HOME for this festival, more interested in his own celebration of the summer than he is in watching us humans dance around the Maypole. So Alden and I head into Faunwood together, arm in arm, boots crunching down Brookside Road.
I’m wearing my special Beltane dress, the one I’ve been working on for weeks, and I keep running my palm across the lace adornments and hand-stitched embroidery, proud of myself for having accomplished such a sewing project. My long green skirt brushes across the foliage as I walk, and the beautiful silver earrings Alden bought me at the Ostara festival dangle from my earlobes, sending prisms of light dancing all around when I step through beams of sun.
“You look beautiful,” Alden says, gazing down at me as we walk.
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “So do you.”
His laughter is hearty and buoyant. When I first met him, it was difficult to get him to smile, let alone laugh. He’s still thequiet sort, and there are evenings when he sits before the fire for long hours, lost in his own mind or whittling projects. But unlike those early days of spring, he now shares his smiles with me easily, and his laughter has become an accompaniment to my life here in the village.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they picked you as the May Queen.” Alden snags a lock of my long green hair and twists it about his finger.
