The vines of the
chesli plants twined partway up the trees. Only visible on a moonless night,
the flower’s fuzzy, pollen-scattered centers glowed golden. Moths and insects
of a hundred varieties flitted anxiously from one flower to the next, lugging
glowing pollen that dusted the air like a thousand falling stars. Witches
surrounded Senna and Mistin, their skin smudged and streaked with glimmering
bits.
“Why are we doing
this?” Mistin asked.
Sometimes Senna
forgot Mistin was even newer to Haven than she was. “Because the chesli only
blooms for a few nights a year, during mid-summer’s dark phase of the moon.
Their pollen increases a potion’s shelf life exponentially without altering the
potion’s properties—it’s a catalyst.”
With a wince,
Mistin rolled her shoulders. “Why can’t we gather it during the day?”
Senna sighed.
“Because the flowers close during the day.”
“We could pry them
open,” Mistin grumbled.
“They’re too
delicate. It would kill them and there’d be no seed, and therefore no flowers
next year.” Senna gathered pollen by brushing a fuzzy cloth inside the flower.
After the cloth was full, she shook it off inside a glass jar and went back for
more. “Did I ever thank you for warning me?”
Mistin smiled a
little. “You’re welcome.”
Soft trails of
light following them, moths competed with Senna for the flowers as they bumped
dumbly from one to the next. Her hands were brushed by wings that added their
soft powder to her skin. To Senna’s surprise, she heard the flower’s music.
They were calling for the moths, songs that seemed to paint the night with
colors of light. The melody was so gentle and full of longing, she forgot about
her own heartache and hummed along.
By unspoken
agreement, she and Mistin worked steadily away from the others. Soon Senna’s
skin glowed bright enough that the moths bumped into her as frequently as they
did the flowers. As a general rule, she hated bugs. But these moths were so
beautiful they didn’t really count. They were more like tiny, delicate birds
than insects.
A soft touch startled
her. She looked down to see a moth skimming along her palm. Another landed on
her wrist. She brought the insect close, studying the intricate patterns on its
wings. A third moth clung to Senna’s smallest finger, its tiny legs tickling so
she had to fight to keep from wiggling and scaring the moths away.
She froze and let
the moths come. They coated her hands, their wings working as they fought each
other to get ever closer. Soon, her hands were covered in moths like living
mittens. She must have some in her hair
too, because they flitted next to her face, climbing the tendrils of her hair
like vines.
She was so caught
up with the moths that Mistin’s voice startled her. “Do they normally do that?”
“They’re lost
without the moon,” Senna whispered so as not to frighten them.
Mistin was
breathing hard. “Shake them off.”
But Senna didn’t
want to startle them. So instead, she sang.
Off with thee, off with thee, off in the night.
Fly for the moon and stars so bright.
The music around
her fell in harmony with her song, and the moths sprang away from her hands in
an explosion of wings. In moments, they were again flitting from flower to
flower in mass confusion. None came back to Senna. Her hands still tickling
with the memory of their clinging legs, she watched the moths.
Her smile faded
when she saw Mistin gaping at her. “Senna, you’re shining.”
Senna looked down
at herself and she was shocked to discover it was true. It wasn’t just the
pollen and the dust from moth wings. Away from the lantern light, her skin
shimmered softly.
~
I kinda sorta love that section. It makes me want to be a Witch.
Have a great week everyone!
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