The sun had already dipped below the horizon by the time they arrived in the village. It was nearly unrecognizable. Colourful garlands and chains were strung up everywhere, adorned with ribbons, straw figures, lamps of all kinds, and even a few colourful lanterns that added cheerful shades of crimson red—and even one moss green one—to the usual golden-orange glow of candles and torches. From above, it might have looked like strawberries scattered on a perfectly baked golden pie, with a single sprig of fresh mint, Mnou thought, trying to distract her panicking mind.
Tables laden with the autumn vegetables and fruits and the dishes made from them—meat and vegetable pies, soups, dumplings, bread, gingerbread glazed with apple and plum preserves—were spread across the square. There were litres and litres of fresh apple juice for the children and, for the adults, beer, wine, mead, and even a few stronger spirits, the sharp alcoholic scent of which made Mnou's stomach turn. The aroma of all this food and drink drifted through the air, creating an intoxicating and alluring scent.
Groups of people were already standing all around, chatting and laughing loudly. The witch watched them all from the corner of her eye, imagining they were glancing her way discreetly. But no matter how hard she tried to catch a curious glance; she couldn't find a single one. Suddenly, the exact opposite feeling struck her. She felt like an uninvited guest. No one was paying her any attention. No one wanted her there. Why did I even come? I was foolish to think anyone cared about me. This all-consuming sadness and loneliness washed over her like a wild tide. Just then, a slice of pie on a plate was thrust in front of her face.
"Here, have some pie, master," Esme urged so eagerly that she nearly smeared whipped cream on Mnou's nose. Mnou was about to refuse but then realized she was still holding Esme's soft, warm little hand—and with that realization, her fear and loneliness melted away. I'm not alone. The most important thing is that Esme is here. She's the only one I really need.
"Thank you." With those words, she took the pie from her little apprentice and stroked her lovingly. They smiled at each other and began to eat.
"Esme! Mnou!"
The witches turned toward the voice. Ruth was striding toward them, waving with a smile. Both girls returned the greeting.
"I'm so glad you're here! I've been looking for you. I've got something for you." She eagerly handed them two straw wreaths, decorated with colourful ribbons.
Mnou looked a little disappointed at the one she received. She immediately recognized her own handiwork.
"You made that one! I thought you might want it," Ruth explained cheerfully, adjusting the wreaths on their heads.
"Um… thank you," Mnou managed. She scratched her forehead—the straw was already itching and scratching her, and the ribbons kept falling in front of her eyes. She tried turning the wreath to stop the colourful streamers from tickling her so much, but they were everywhere.
"These ribbons are driving me crazy. Do you mind if I take them off?" She didn't wait for an answer and started untying them. Suddenly, both girls grabbed her hands and shrieked: "You can't!"
Startled, Mnou flinched and stared at Ruth and Esme's shocked expressions.
"You mustn't! It's tradition!" the apprentice exclaimed and gave her a stern look. "I thought you told her, Ruth."
"Me? I thought you were going to tell her," Ruth protested.
"Could you stop arguing and finally tell me what's going on?" Mnou gently reminded them of her presence.
"Sorry, I should've explained," Ruth apologized, straightening her own ribbon-covered wreath. "Look, only women have ribbons on their wreaths. The ones men wear doesn't have them. But tomorrow morning, it's supposed to be the other way around. See, when you dance with someone, you give them one of your ribbons as a token. The men compete to collect as many as they can. Don't worry about running out—there are plenty more!"
"In that case, I could probably take them all off, since I definitely don't plan on dancing with anyone," Mnou remarked dryly and poured herself some blackberry wine.
"Oh, come on, dancing is tradition too! There's nothing better than spinning in a crowd to music and pressing close to a man's chest," Ruth said dreamily. Noticing the witches' stunned expressions, she blushed and murmured, "I may have gotten a little carried away."
"No, Ruth's right. Dancing is definitely fun. You really should try it, master!"
"Wait, have you ever actually danced before?" Mnou asked, raising an eyebrow at the girl.
"No, but I'm sure I'll be great at it," Esme said proudly, lifting her chin. "Ruth taught me, and I was really good." She glanced at Ruth for confirmation.
"Yes, yes, you were adorable! Just wait until you see her," Ruth gushed, stroking Esme's hair.
A pang of jealousy stabbed at Mnou's heart.
"I could've taught you too. I'm a decent dancer myself," she muttered, slightly sulking, and took another sip of wine, which made her cough.
"I'm sure you are, but... I'm not sure you know our folk dances," Ruth said carefully, noticing the sour expression.
Mnou hesitated and asked cautiously, "But... you do dance allemande, ländler, or waltz here, don't you?"
Ruth just stared at her in confusion before finally saying, "Those are dances? I've never heard of them."
Mnou flushed red—again. But this time, the treacherous wine probably played a part in it. Are you stupid? Of course they don't waltz in a backwater like this!
"Don't worry, master. Whatever a wlts is, I'm sure you are great at it. Maybe you'll teach me someday," Esme said, standing on tiptoes to pat her comfortingly on the head.
Mnou felt like crawling into a hole and drinking herself into oblivion just to avoid being seen. Just then, the music began.
The witch recognized the wheezing accordion, like a poorly oiled hinge, the droning bass, and several flutes that were at least halfway pleasant. Everyone except her looked delighted and began pairing off. Mnou buried her face in her hands and sighed deeply. Suddenly, someone's hand wrapped around hers. It was Ruth.
"Come on, I'll teach you! It's easy," she urged, her eyes gleaming with red and orange reflections of the lanterns.
"No, I really don't think that's a good idea," Mnou protested, but Ruth tightened her grip, snatched away her half-finished wine, and dragged her into the dancing crowd.
Couples spun around her like restless spirits. Though the evening was chilly, she was quickly engulfed in the heat radiating from the moving bodies. Loud music and the stomping of dozens of feet pounded in her ears. She clutched Ruth's hand tightly, like a child afraid to lose its mother in the crowd. They finally stopped, and Ruth turned to face her.
"Couldn't you have explained this before dragging me into this chaos?" Mnou shouted over the noise.
"Best to learn on the fly. Don't worry, you'll pick up on it quickly," Ruth said, grabbing her left hand and placing her right hand on her shoulder. She took the lead so Mnou could dance the woman's part. With an energetic nod, she pulled the witch by the waist—and into the whirlwind of music and bodies.
At first, Mnou tried to decipher the steps while Ruth dragged her around with laughter.
"One-two, one-two, one-two, one-two…" she sang in rhythm.
It didn't take long before Mnou found the beat, and her feet began moving on their own. Soon she was spinning and stomping the packed earth almost instinctively. She still let Ruth lead, but it felt like she'd slipped into some strange time loop of heat, sweat, swirling wind, and laughter. Then she realized—she was laughing too. Laughing and bobbing her head to the playful flutes and off-key accordion. She felt like she was in a trance.
She looked at her friend's face and saw every little detail despite the speed of their spinning. She saw sparkling eyes and red laughing lips. Beads of sweat raced each other to the dry, dusty ground. Her black hair whipped wildly like ruffled raven wings. Mnou watched it all in fascination, her feet dancing as if with a will of their own.
This is nothing, she thought with a surge of excitement—and suddenly took the lead. Ruth blinked in surprise but quickly surrendered to her rhythm. They spun wildly, their heads reeling, but they didn't stop. Just when they felt they couldn't stay on their feet a second longer, the music ended with a final bass note. The two women collapsed to the ground, laughing out loud.
Others laughed and clapped, demanding another song.
Out of breath, they stumbled to the drinks table. Mnou grabbed the nearest jug, nearly spilling it, but caught it just in time—only a little splashed on her dress. Ruth held up their mugs, which quickly filled with a sweet-smelling drink. They slumped onto wobbly chairs and clinked glasses.
"Let's see what this is," Ruth said, taking a sip—and immediately pulled a face.
"Mead," Mnou rasped, coughing. "Good, but strong." The drink burned down her throat, warming her chest and spreading to her fingertips. The burning slowly gave way to a mellow honeyed flavour that melted on her tongue. She closed her eyes and savoured the feeling. Ruth nudged her gently and held something out.
"Here." Her breath smelled sweet like summer flowers.
Mnou blinked and focused—it was a yellow ribbon.
"I thought those were just for the men."
"Traditionally, yes, but I think you earned one for that dance." Ruth winked.
"I'll only take it if it's a fair trade." Mnou untied a white ribbon and exchanged it for the offered one.
They sat in silence for a while, soaking in the celebration. The music had started again, and the dance crowd was growing. Mnou even spotted Esme and Azra. They weren't overly concerned with proper steps, but they looked like they were having a blast. Mnou rested her head on her palm, smiling fondly. They were truly adorable.
"So, are you glad you danced after all?" Ruth suddenly asked.
"What?" Mnou was already feeling the wine. Ruth repeated the question.
"Oh. Yes, I am. It was a lot of fun—just like Esme said." She laughed and took another swig of mead. "Maybe it's not so bad," she said suddenly.
"What is?" asked Ruth in puzzlement.
"Life," Mnou answered simply. "You know, at one point I thought life wasn't worth it. But... lately something's changed. Everything feels more fun. I'm... I'm glad I'm here." The words tumbled out thoughtlessly. She still vaguely understood what she was saying, but her mouth had taken over. And she didn't mind—not in that moment.
"I'm glad to hear that. I think life's worth living just for this moment."
"Exactly," Mnou agreed, reaching for more mead. But her friend gently, yet firmly, stopped her. "I think you've had enough for now." She patted her cheek. The witch nodded groggily.
"Alright, I'm going now, because I promised my husband I'd dance with him too. I'll come back later, and we can dance again, if you want. Just don't do anything stupid in the meantime."
Mnou's giddiness from the dancing and mead had already begun to fade. Melancholy seized her once more. She decided to take a short walk to sober up. Apart from the village square glowing in the night like a sun disk, the alleys and houses were shrouded in darkness. The sorceress could see only their dark silhouettes outlined against the distant hills. Everything around her was eerily quiet compared to the boisterous celebration.
Suddenly, she sat down in the grass beside a cool stone wall, its rocks pressing into her back. She smacked her lips, rolling the taste of alcohol around her mouth. All that remained was a strange sweet-and-sour aftertaste. She looked up at the starry sky and sighed.
Didn't I promise myself I'd never touch alcohol again after I came here to Kalkha? How many times have I repeated that to myself—and it never worked. I'm just too weak for that.
She remembered that night years ago when Professor Axel had found her in that dark alley. I was lying there in the mud after the rain, completely wasted. Staring at the stars—that was all I could do to keep from throwing up right then and there. Though I think I still did, if I remember right.
She looked down at her hands in disgust as the ugly memories ran through her mind. She felt filthy and repulsive. No matter how many years pass, I'll always be like this. It'll always be a part of me. I am…disgusting.
She shook her head, trying to cast off the unpleasant feeling. It didn't help much, but she got up and slowly walked back to the square. She felt far too sober now, so she headed straight to the beer keg and poured herself a drink. Then another. And another. And one more after that.