I wake up, unsure of when I had fallen asleep, cradled in the tree and my book laying open, half finished, on top of me. I look at the sky and see that there is an hour left of daylight. Seven hours until we leave.

I close my book and slip it into my satchel, which hangs on a small stick that pokes out of the trunk. I stay staring up through the branches for quite some time, almost unable to move. I realize eventually that a few tears have run down my face, an I wipe them away. They are tears of joy, for it feels so good to just be here, to just sit once again with my willow tree. It feels as though everything else was a horrid dream, and that Silver, Jacob, Tom, Lory, and Ebony would all come walking into the clearing any moment now. I soak in the familiar feeling, for once not bothering to remind myself the truth, and I spend half of the hour simply being one with the tree.

Eventually, I stand up, dust off my dress, grab my satchel, and make my way down the tree. I walk over to where plants have overtaken the small black pot that me and ebony used to practice making potions, both purposeful and through an entire year to grow freely. I run a hand along the edge of it, having forgotten all about it until now. I had left it here in the hopes that we would come back and continue. A thought strikes me then.

I wont be able to continue learning new magic during the trip.

Before I am able to have my mood cast down, I agree with myself that I will focus on the more hands on spells such as connecting through roots and farther away plants as I had failed to do… that night. I am also sure that Iren will practice such things with me, and that Ebony will have fun seeing all of the new animals. Perhaps we can all try to learn animal connection again, as we were unsuccessful when we last tried.

I cover the pot back up and walk reluctantly back towards the village. My mother has prepared a warm meal and I sit with her to eat, as I have not done in weeks, and will not do again for at least many more months.

I read again in my bed as the last of the twilight fades, then I change into my nightgown at the typical time, and crawl into bed, uncovering the letters and read them over again, pain swelling in my chest.

Ebony and I waited all this time only to leave right as they arrive. What do I do? What if they come looking for me?

Once again refusing the thought that they would not come back at the time they said, or that they would not care weather I came or not, stare at the ceiling, thinking of the perfect thing to write. Finally I have it, and I quietly step over to my nightstand and pull out the paper and ink from my satchel. I detail to them the circumstances of our vanishing and express the eternal gratitude that I hold for their letters, apologizing for not being brave enough to attempt to send one before now. I let the ink dry after I finish explaining that I will attempt to go to Ebony so that she can write to them as well, and say my goodbyes.

I heard my mother lay down only half an hour after me, so I wait an hour before sneaking through the house to collect some of the discrete valuables and money, then climbing once more through the window, letter in hand, and skirt the village once again, thankful that her house is at the edge of the village as mine is.

I crouch outside of her window and slowly peer in.

She is there, sewing, her door closed.

“Hey!” I whisper.

Her head whips around and relief spreads across her face as she sees that it is me. She lays down her project and walks over to the window, a slight look of worry just below the surface of her normal relaxed expression.

“Um… I’m writing a letter to them because we will be gone when they are supposed to come back.” I say, and offer her the letter.

Her face falls as she realizes what I am talking about, but she takes the letter and glances it over. Her eyebrows bunch up.

“You… they’ve been sending you letters?” she says in a tone that I cannot quite pinpoint, though it is surly not good.

“Yea, they say hi…” I say feebly, realizing what has happened.

“Oh.”

That’s all she can utter for a moment, and I can see the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

I think of what to say to comfort her.

“It was only once a year, and extremely hard to get. The only reason they were able to was because of Silvers sister. And he did say that Lory was missing you throughout the whole trip.“

She shakes her head. “Yea, no, I know she doesn’t know how to write, and she never saw the use in it anyways.” She briefly wipes her eyes before going to her desk, inviting me in as she travels. I reluctantly climb through the window as silently as I can and sit with my back against the wall, playing with my hands.

She writes for longer than I expected, and I can see her trying to fit it all into a decent amount of space. Eventually she goes to sit with me as she waits for the ink to dry.

We sit in familiar silence for a moment, almost like we used to.

“Damn it.” she says as she lays her head back against the wall, and I share her sentiment.

After another moment, she gets up, folds the paper, and hands it to me. Something about her demeanor bids me not to open the note, and I can see her face redden, if only slightly.

I smile, and offer a last word of assurance, the best I can give, the one I tell myself.

“Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, that’s all we have to wait. Once we get back, everything can go back to normal.” She looks at me, but I don’t catch her expression as I again spirit through the window and head to the woods.

The journey is dark and long, and I worry if I will make it back in time, but the time was a feeling rather than the actual movement of the moon, and as I arrive and look at the sky, I see that I still have and hour left, the trip only taking thirty minutes.

The clearing is small, you could walk from one side to the other in six or seven steps, but at its edge sits a fairly big fallen log, which blends in with the twisting roots of the fellow trees that surround the clearing that welcomes me back quietly. It is covered in moss, and part of it is hollow on the inside, with a small silver disk hanging in the opening, and X etched into it.

I carefully place the note, cover it in some leaves so that it is not noticeable by a passerby, but obvious upon inspection. I leave the patch of moonlight with the hope that they will check the log when we fail to appear.

Once in the dense forest again, I have still an hour before I must bring myself to pack and leave with the others. I start my walk home, but soon my feet refuse to move, and before me stands my village.

All the lights are out, and only the sounds of the wild night filter into my ears. My legs slowly buckle, and I curl up, pulling my knees to my chest as I sit against a familiar old oak.

Leaving.

The full wight of everything I am about to do and what has already transpired is heavy on my shoulders, and I am almost unable to bear it. This coven, this forest, sprites even this state is all I have ever known, and now I am about to cross through three of them, countless forests and grasslands and rivers, and other covens.

Covens that will detest us for running away.

I cry into my legs for a few minutes, and somehow spend the rest of the hour simply looking at the village and reminiscing about all of the good memories I have had.

My mother teaching me my first spell, meeting Silver, watching everyone perform for the first time in Silvers father’s human pub, playing in the river with Masy, Wey, Iren, and Ebony, care free once again like I always was with Silver.

Much to soon and to my dismay, I notice the moons alignment with the trees and sigh.

I send a sorrowful goodbye through all of the root systems that I can reach under my feet, and the trees supportively, if passively, bid me farewell.

I am the first to arrive but everyone else arrives within minutes. Everyone is noticeably somber, though we try to hide it and jest as much as possible. Ebony hands out the bags and Masy demonstrates the best way to pack them, as she has done so a few times with her mother. We spread the water and food rations as evenly as we could between us all, and we finish with time to spare.

We look around at each other, almost as if waiting for someone to do something, to be the first to leave.

After a few moments of that, Masy laughs dryly.

“None of us have the gull, huh?” she phrases it as a statement.

“You and Wey are the only ones who have left this place before, so yes, we are a bit nervous.” Iren snaps, quite unlike her, though she immediately apologizes as she meant nothing by it. We all understand, as we are all on edge and express it in different ways.

Silence rings loudly around us as we procrastinate further. I look around at the packs, and although they are mostly full, there is enough room to stuff or strap one more thing onto each bag.

“Then let us take a bit of it with us, eh?” I offer. “A small book, jewelry, a childhood toy…” I am glad to see that my suggestion helps to perk everyone up.

“Lets.” Ebony agrees.

“We have ten minutes to get it, then we are leaving, okay.” Wey says, trying to spur us into an action other than remorse.

We nod and split up once more. I go with Ebony to where she crosses a river to her house, then continue onto mine. I have little idea of what to bring.

I carefully climb through the window and note that my sheets are tossed to the side. I brush it off as me being careless even though I don’t remember doing so, and move through my room. My hand settles briefly on a few items; a smaller children’s book that was my first read, a sash than my grandmother made my mother before passing, a small stuffed wolf that my mother an I made together when I was young. Finally, I settle on two things. The sash, and the packet of sand that had put me so on edge. As the days got closer to their return, however, I have come to see it as a hope for us. if so many things can survive on that, on so little sustenance, so can we. It is also the last thing I received, so it feels more attached to him, I admit.

I make my way to where Masy and Wey are waiting, Iren arriving soon after, and, finally, we are all together again.

We can delay no further.

We pick up our bags and say a last goodbye to the only home we have ever known, besides Masy, and head east into the looming trees, who’s branches droop and dip as we pass underneath them.

I only heard the slightest rustle of leaves.