"There are not that many witches around here," Daisy continued. "But magical gatherings took place long before the first witch arrived from mainland Europe. And now that we have gathered here to connect with magic and elves, I thought we are kind of like an olden days coven would have been."

She gestured to the chalk circle she had drawn:

"A long time ago, people would gather around a circle to talk to the spirits and see magic gather around them when they honored the elves with offerings. Any symbol gathers magic to it. Always. And we are five people and one vampire." She sighed then. "If all of us can treat this circle as sacred, as our portal point to the Wild, unbound Magic. Then... well... I am not sure what might happen. But it feels right. It... I mean... maybe we can summon something beautiful. At least an elf."

"Wild, unbound magic?" Plume asked. "What might you mean by that?"

"I don't know." Daisy smiled. "I just know magic isn't exact science. I want to see what happens if we just interact with it in a circle. Maybe we just boost the elf that comes. Maybe we sprout wings. Who knows."

Daisy had found again her characteristic good mood. She flashed around an engaging smile. And extended a hand.

"Who's with me?"

Fig peeled herself away from the bookshelf and offered herself up. Rose was quick to follow, taking Daisy's other hand. Timothy wasn't given much time to think it through, for his landlady took the decision off his hands. Fig did the same for me.

Plume crossed his arms over his chest.

"I don't like this. What were you thinking to do exactly? Hold hands and pray for... yes for what exactly?"

Daisy rolled her eyes.

"I didn't want you here to start with. Nettle, close the circle."

I offered my hand for Timothy, but he held his right hand to his chest. His eyes flitted to Daisy.

But before Timothy could utter a word, another voice joined in the conversation:

"Oh! A dancing circle! We love dancing."

I swiveled my head to the unfamiliar voice.

Behind Plume stood another Plume. But the double was bare chested.

"Sorry, I didn't include the shirt. It's a bit dirty, have you noticed?"

The second Plume winked at his audience. Plume with the tainted shirt looked horror struck. He took various steps away from his reflection.

"I'll complete the circle for you," the other promised.

The half naked man took hold of my hand that was already extended out for Timothy.

Then he reached out. The hand he extended seemed to be just long enough to take hold of Timothy's, even when the young man took a step back in reflex.

"Ah! And everyone in this circle believes in magic. How brilliant. Can you hear that?"

Distant music. Was I imagining it? A harp?

"Timothy, what are you doing?" The Plume outside the circle asked.

"I can't let go," Timothy said.

He was swaying. Timothy's head went from one side to the other in a snakelike sinuous movement that somehow seemed to connect to the distant music that was now growing louder and clearer in my ears.

"What do you mean, can't let go?" Plume on the outside tried to pry open Timothy's hand from the hand of his twin.

There were lights in my vision. They too were swaying.

The other Plume, whose hand I was holding, started humming. The lights, the music, and the humming seemed all part of one whole.

"Uncle!" The shouting voice came from somewhere far off.

Yes. It was definitely a harp! And wind chimes. I heard birds singing.

More lights appeared. They danced on the bookshelves and on Fig's reception desk, creating shifting shadows, like branches and leaves in soft wind.

My whole body swayed with it, like in an invisible wind.

Then we were dancing. Our hands were still connected and the circle held as we flowed around the chalk pattern.

Nothing on the planet made more sense than the dancing.

Left and right and up and down. The lights danced with us. The melody played my heart and found my core. I knew it! I started to humm with it.

Then I realized Fig had already been humming for a while. Daisy and Timothy seemed to have picked up the melody as well.

I could only see one Plume now and the middle of our circle was sprouting grass and clovers. It was all radiantly green. Dew drops glistened in the sunlight.

Fig let go of my hand.

Everywhere small lights and smoky tendrils danced and sang. Plume had taken hold of my other arm as well. I could only see him. All the lights seemed to concentrate around him. His eyes had turned to verdant green, like the little meadow in the middle of the circle.

I didn't see his lips move, as he whirled me around the edges of the impossibly large circle. But he sang. I heard the voice around me, in the melody and in the dancing.

He asked me to dance with him. He wanted to show me the meadow. He wanted to give me magic and keep me. I could paint. I could dance. And sing. Did I want to go with him? Be his Queen in the summerlands?

Just sing, and dance. Rest by small streams and listen to the music. He would teach me to play it. Teach me to paint it! I had the gift. He had seen it. He had seen my paintings! He wanted to talk of them. Long unhurried conversation about stars and the universe. He could show me gods, if I wanted.

Would I want?

Wouldn't I want to?

He slackened his grip. I held tight.

Inviting smile on perfect features. Eyes like emeralds.

No more exams. Just painting and playing and the mossy forest floors.

And the spirits. The spirits were here, and they were there, where we were going.

Someone called my name.

Plume extended his other arm.

Ah! My curious rootless friend. You who can do nothing beautiful. But never fear. I'll teach you to listen, to watch, to smell and sense. Come with us, our rootless boy.

For the Forest is not like the City. We have space to fit all.