We are walking in a single file using a forest track. The thick mist is seen between low bushes and trees’ roots. It is winding like white snakes under our feet, and it is steadily getting colder, and I am shivering in my light pyjamas with a print that is too shameful and childish for a girl who is almost eleven years old.

The sky is mackerel: a periwinkle grey background with dark blue stripes of the evening clouds. Unfortunately, having made several steps forward, I can’t see it through the intermingled branches of oaks, maples, ash-trees and thick paws of firs and larches.

There is no sound of lively wind, woodpecker’s merry drumming or cheerful songs of tiny foresters: just the rustles of twigs and last year leaves under our hasty feet that are walking quickly through the enchanted forest.

Nina is sitting on my shoulder again; her warm fluffy tail is like a perfect scarf around my neck. I wish I can turn into a small animal with some nice fur like a chipmunk or a harvest mouse and rest on someone’s shoulder, for I’m really cold and tired.

“Well hello, dear!” Astrid greets someone, but I can’t see whom she is talking to, for my aunt is leading the party, and Lev tails the procession.

“Greetings, my fair lady Astrid! I am immensely pleased that you have found your lovely kins,” says a voice that I have already heard somewhere.

I’m tiptoeing around in the dark trying to see the owner of the voice over Billy’s shoulder.

“I know him!” I whisper to Billy when I am able to see at last. “This strange man wanted to be my forest guide!”

“He asked me about the same,” Billy whispers back, “but I threatened to call the police.”

“Girls, meet Leshi! He’s a forest spirit.” Astrid steps back to allow the tiny man to be seen in deem forest light.

“We have already met,” Billy and I reluctantly chip in the conversation.

The hare-skin man is scratching his weird twiggy ear, tilting his head like a dog, “I’ve seen a man in disguise the other day, fair lady,” he says to Astrid. “I don’t know him now, but he does seem suspicious. I assume thou, my fairy lady, must wist about him and be aware of the danger that might the outsider bring to you and your maiden kin.”

“Has he left anything?” asks Prince Erik.

“The man was immensely precocious and kept at a discreet distance. But he can’t beat an old cunning hare with all his childish tricks, twists, and turns!” I initially think that a duck is quacking, but then I understand that it is the way the tiny man laughs.

With quacking giggles, Leshi takes a simple pen out of his hairy hare coat and gives it to the young man.

“I know this smell. I felt it on the porch last night,” says Lev, having sniffed the plastic ball pen.

“Any ideas?” asks Astrid.

He tosses his head, “The stranger is not from around here. Do you think he could send the cloud of bat shifters? Leshi, did you smell any magic in the outlander?” he looks down, but the hare creature has already disappeared.

“Left without saying “goodbye”, as always!” Astrid shrugs her shoulders, “Anyways, we can find it out: now we have a clue!” she smiles and keeps on walking. Lev wraps the pen in an old fashioned handkerchief with an embroidered letter “A” on it and gently slips the pen into his pocket.

Meantime the darkness is steadily growing, and Nina is already sleeping. She would surely fall if I didn’t catch her. I put her in my big pyjamas pocket as gingerly and gently as Lev did the same with an important pen, for I need my both hands to put away branches or disgusting gossamers that get in my way. It seems that they appear only when they see me, ready to get into my eye and mouth or simply scratch my cheek. Billy and Astrid are going easily and lightly as if we are on a lovely beach stroll and ready to have a fantastic picnic in a minute or so.

The trees colonnades and the bushes rows seem endless when suddenly I see a long anticipated clearing, and a dear field, and a dangerous river with fast torrents, and Astrid’s enchanted orchard! These places are as welcomed as flowers in May; I can’t help but smile.

“I don't know about the rest of you, but I've had enough fun for one day!” declares my sister, “I'm so tired that I forgot to yawn!” saying it, she almost runs to the house.

“She’s too active and runs too fast for a person who’s so tired,” laughs Lev. The young man doesn’t seem offended with sharp-tongued Billy.

“Wait for me!” I call out to her from behind and, following my sister’s example, dash to the villa.

***

It is so warm inside: the hall and the living room are breathing out some fantastic sweet and spicy smells. The late dinner might be ready. But I can’t enjoy the warmth of the cozy home, for I am scared to go further and stay in the evening coolness of the wooden porch. I’m waiting and stealing a look at Billy; my sister doesn’t move too. Suppose it was that moment we have the exact same anxious thought: grandma. She must be worried about us!

I can hear Astrid who is approaching the house and talking to Lev. They are both laughing: obviously, the meeting with bats doesn’t greatly affect them, not for a second: just another Monday.

Hearing us, grandma opens the door, “Good evening! I hope the afterdark swarm of midges did not eat you alive,” she smiles, winking at her daughter as if Astrid is still her little baby. “You are welcomed, dearies!” she seems to address her words to Lev and Nina. The latter has just fallen from my pocket and turns into a human the moment she touches the wooden floor of the porch. Now she’s yawning and rubbing her sleepy eyes; her Sailor Moon buns are a little bit disheveled. Billy helps her to stand up.

Grandma has always possessed kindness and warmth that immediately put her dear guests at ease. She doesn’t seem disappointed or worried; she doesn’t even scold us for having gone alone to the forest. Grandma’s relaxed and gracious countenance looks as chilled as Astrid’s when she came to the shack and saved us. I’d rather she gives us a good talking or read a lecture, at least. I am sure Billy agrees with me, for her face is blushing, and it’s not because of a swift forest jog. But under the circumstances, my sister is doing remarkably: like a wartime spy who was caught by the enemy. Speechless she sits down to the table.

Here in a spacious living room the dinner was served for all of us under floating white, cherry blossom, and fairy pink candles that are set in a big chandelier and other candelabra lamps and candle trees. Some roasted lamb is served with baked potatoes, chips, grilled vegetables, goat cheese, ripe red fruits and fresh ricotta.

We, forest explorers, eat as if no one has ever fed us.

“Don’t be too quick,” says grandma scooping her chin, “Leave some room for my apple crumble.”

“Mm-hm,” Astrid is murmuring as a pleased cat that is given fresh cream.

Food on my plate disappears as quickly as a wink. And I stare out the big window to kill time. Unexpectedly, I can notice some flames in the darkness of the garden. But they are too big and bright to be common fireflies. I move my chair closer to have better view of the night garden. They are not fireflies for sure, because I can see tiny, scrawny human bodies with wonderful butterfly wings. I don’t want to share this moment with anyone, for I feel blue. Strange loneliness is filling my heart and soul. It seems to me that they are like forsaken sprites and spirits of children that can’t find the way home and keep on floating around in search of someone’s warmth. But maybe it’s just my silly imagination: I’m only ten, they say. They don’t think I could understand the complex nature of adult things!

“I don't know, Mom, he spoke in riddles,” says Astrid, munching a piece of apple. “Sounds like Leshi’s typical nonsense, but the general idea is clear: there’s some loser on the loose who is wallowing in our neighbourhood and holding a grudge against me,” she grins cunningly. The whole situation entertains her greatly.

“It was he, we think, who sent transformed bats to scare the girls and, by the way, the Witches Circles might be his trick too,” adds Lev, passing grandma an old pepperbox in the shape of a mouse.

“It’s a classic intimidation, Astrid,” grandma shakes her head and a pepperbox.

“Maybe we should call Dad and tell him everything...about magic,” I shyly suggest.

“Andrew knows about everything. His not very good at magic,” says grandma.

“Our baby muggle,” giggles Astrid. “He can do some simple magic stuff, but his not really good at it. His going here too will just make things awkward. And, I’m afraid, he would not let you come to us again if he knows about this little incident,” Astrid sighs. “I’ll handle it without him.”

I can’t believe that Dad knows everything about his sister and magic, but he didn’t tell me a word. Could it be just his and Billy’s secret or it’s my poor memory of a silly child? But what if he did tell me?

“Can it be bog creature Mike?” I just blurt it out.

“A bog creature?” titters Astrid. Grandma cocks her eyebrow; Billy covers hers with a hidden piercing, nervously blushing.

“Well...” I have already regretted having started this. “You said Dad knows a little bit of magic. Well, and... I think that... He said that Billy was enchanted by someone that’s why she became so annoying and perky! It happens at almost the same time when she met her gruesome boyfriend!” I shoot it out.

A young couple and grandma can barely keep straight faces. Lev is laughing covering his handsome face. Everybody but Nina who has been pecking her crumble at random, “Billy, you said that you will never have a boyfriend, and we will climb the trees and be friends forever,” nobody even consider the fact that the squirrel girl was following the conversation.

It is strange to see redhead’s gloomy face. I should, probably, keep my mouth shut, but I can’t stop, “I understand you, Nina. She promised me the same, well, maybe without tree climbing! But she is flighty like a feather in the wind,” I recalls a song Dad likes to jokingly nag Mom with it. I know that Billy hates this aria too, and that’s why I say it and regret, for Billy doesn’t respond in her typical spiteful manner: her ears are blushing and eyes are full of tears.

“Mike is not my boyfriend! We are just hanging out together! And you don’t understand anything about friendship too! You are as flighty as me! Don’t deny it!” she sobs and hastily leaves the table and runs upstairs.

“I’ll talk to her,” says Astrid with sadness in her eyes.

“No. I’ll better do it,” Nina unexpectedly takes the initiative. She turns into the squirrel and runs up the banisters spiraling like a DNA in Billy’s presentation for her biology project at school.

I sit silent and devastated. We never used to fight like this before. Nobody pays attention to me: Astrid has taken a book that was resting on a coffee table and quietly shows something to grandma and Prince Erik. Sitting for a while, I reluctantly trudge upstairs to apologize but delay at the closed door having heard girls talking. I don’t want to overhear their conversation, but my legs root to the floor. They are talking about me.