Mero Witches — The Revolution Begins

The owls told it first, calling out at dusk, calling to each other, calling for response. In these woods it’s a given thing that news will spread and critters will pass it along as they need. Mostly they don’t pay mind to us, the people, but just keep to their own side of the curtain. That’s why it got us all to talking when that tingling thread wound itself around the trees and tied up the moonlight, finally coming right down to skitter across the grass like little fairy ladies at a fancy ball. None of us here can speak the language of the wild, but you don’t need to know the words when magic hums so loud it rattles the roof.

“It’s rolling in fast,” Sylvia said quietly. “Light that lamp and we’ll sit out here on the porch a mite longer.”

I did as she told me. It’s a comforting thing to bide next to power when the world changes its course.