“Ready?” Busy stepped through the row of trees that provided privacy to each campsite. Her smile infused me with sweetness and strength.
“Ready,” I replied. “Should I go to the trailhead?”
“Sure. Or wait for me if you’d like company. I want to wash the smell of scallions off my fingers before I put on my dress.”
“I’ll wait here.” I gestured to the bench at our picnic table and tucked my dress behind my knees, avoiding the greasy spots as I sat. I parted my lips and exhaled a soft breath. The humming sensation that accompanied Busy was oddly comforting.
“Don’t be nervous.” My roomie returned smelling of soap. The tent swayed as she rifled through her things. “You’re in very good hands, Calliope Jones.”
“I know. I trust Rose.”
Busy unzipped the flap and crawled out, clutching the skirt of her white dress to her belly. She stayed in a crouch as she closed the entrance to the tent. “Don’t want any bugs or critters joining us tonight.”
Dropping her hem, she stood and wiggled her curves into place.
“You look radiant!” I was amazed at the transformation. Busy’s honey-gold hair floated away from her face, catching every last bit of light. “It’s like you’re a…a goddess!”
Busy beamed. “We’re all goddesses,” she assured me, “and tonight, we’re here to celebrate you. No pressure, of course.”
I giggled. “Let’s go meet the others before I totally chicken out.”
Chapter 12
The walk to the sacred grove was mostly awe-filled and peaceful. I had to keep my gaze to the ground, what with tree roots making random appearances and loose footing where winter’s snow and ice had deposited a tumble of river rocks. Even the raised boardwalk, with its rotted or missing slats and loose nails, called for caution.
Ahead of us, Rose’s group had tied strips of cloth to head-height branches, marking the turns with a luminescent wave whenever the path split. And when a section of boardwalk dead-ended at a washout, we hiked up our skirts and dresses and scrambled along a narrow ledge. The drop to the shallow river below was less than six feet, but it was straight down and I had no intention of needing any kind of a rescue before, during, or after the ritual. Once the path resumed, I followed it around thigh-high clumps of ferns to where the others waited.
My nighttime sensors took in the depth of quiet in the old growth forest. Pausing, I gazed upward past the lacy tips of branches to witness twilight settling its sheer blue-black cape over the massive Sitka spruces ringing the ritual area. These trees had stood for hundreds of years, some for over a thousand, and I could feel the weight of their ancient presence.
The witches spaced themselves into a rough circle within the clearing. Once I was at my designated spot, I unlaced my boots and bared my feet. I needed to root down to find a place of inner calm, one that wasn’t worrying about leaf mold-loving critters or spiders and other bugs. Especially not the bugs with hundreds of squiggly legs running up and down their sides.
I wasn’t in the basement of my aunt’s house. No one had forgotten me. I was fine. I was in a circle of powerful women, and it was my night to be initiated into the mysteries of modern day witch-hood.
A ripple moved through the women.
Rose spoke. “As we prepare to enter this ritual of initiation, does anyone have anything they wish to say before we begin?”
Heads, illuminated by the light of the rising full moon, shook slowly.
“Very well. Calliope, as you are a witch who is new to ritual,” she continued, everyone’s attention settling on me, “there is one thing you must understand. Rituals do not always take hold in the way we hope or intend. There will be moments tonight when you will be asked to trust this place, to trust the women around you, and to trust me. I will explain every part of our ritual as it is happening. As you follow my voice, as you feel that trust build, know that hardest of all will be the moments when you must trust yourself.”
Rose’s words hovered in the air between us.
“L’Runa will assist me.”
L’Runa’s skin glowed like polished walnut. Long, skinny braids of hair bleached white hung from either side of her head down to her waist. Hawk feathers formed a wing-like fan at the front of her crown, with miniature ears of blue corn to either side. The power circulating through her almost sent me to my knees. I refocused on Rose’s words.
“If everyone would take a few steps toward the center of our circle so that L’Runa doesn’t have to trample the plants, we will start with grounding and purification.”
Cloth rustled against ferns and bushes of low-growing salal as the women drew closer to one another.
“We ground ourselves, to be present to the work we are doing and to be present to our connection to everything around us. Find a comfortable stance, close your eyes, and connect to your breath. Relax your throat, your belly, your knees.”
I followed Rose’s voice, and while night moths of anxiety and anticipation still fluttered about, I eventually found a steady source of support in my bones. I pictured them holding me up much like the sturdy beams anchoring my beloved house.
“Send your awareness to the soil below your feet and deeper, and deeper still, through stone, through water, to the fire at the center of our planet.”
I followed Rose’s voice down and back up, opening my eyes with care when instructed for the next step of the ritual.
L’Runa untied the bundle of herbs and feathers hanging from the strips of white leather girdling her hips and turned to Belle. She dipped her bundle into the water-filled chalice and sprinkled Belle’s head and shoulders. I caught a soft whisper of words,
