The moon coming up over the horizon gave a clear path for her journey over the hills and across the meadows. Careful not to take a dip as she dived toward the abysmal lake, she laid her lithe frame along the length of her broom, as she let the icy waters rush over her extended fingertips, simultaneously whispering incantations of desire.

Unbeknown to this unsuspecting man, Malachite had watched him through her scrying mirror of late. She had discovered that he was without a partner, yet impatient to jump the broom stick with a fair maiden. Perhaps it would be her that he would choose to love....If her charms were resolute.

The town within sight, she swiftly descended from the evening sky, respectfully announcing her presence to the majestic gnarled Oak tree, and leaving in its charge her beloved broom.

Hands clasped, eyes bright, Malachite  recited her spell of enchantment and turned Deosil until she faced east, the direction of new beginnings and promised hopes. Prudently applying  the fresh lake water on either side of her throat as if it were an expensive perfume. Her conical black hat and heavy velvet cape melted away into the dusk, and was replaced by a sultry dress befit to seduce her lover; As he would not recognise her as the Sorceress  he had taken at Candalmas.

 

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