"Crone, mother, maiden. Holy host of hellful fires, fill me now, see my desire." The women danced around the fire, chanting and writhing, moving as one in the moonlight.

"Blood, bones, skin. Sister to sister, breath and kin, see us now, forgive our sins.” One of the women broke free of the circle to sprinkle herbs from an unmarked bag onto the fire; the roar of the flame intensified for a moment before suddenly turning a deep, jewel green and settling back to a normal height.

"Earth, sky, seas and stars. Grant a wish, a wish to me." The flames suddenly launch skyward, a deep amethyst shade nearly as tall as the tree line. The women halt, staring into its depths reverently. As the flames slowly, slowly, sink back down, a small tendril escapes, moving a full length of the gathered women before wending its way around the wrist of a young woman, no more than 20.

Her eyes look starstruck as the flame slowly pulls her to the base of the roaring fire, her sisters looking at her with mixtures of adoration and jealousy.

She pauses just at the base of the pyre, lowering gracefully to her knees, arms raised high above her head; the perfect pious picture. “Please, force above, see me as the worthy worshipper I have strived to be all my years, and bless me with your gifts.”

The women held a collective breath, waiting, waiting; until suddenly, the flames turned deepest scarlet. Two licks of fire reached out, this time wrapping around both of the woman’s wrists, as she began screaming, pleading.

The other women resumed their dance, eyes never leaving the poor girl as she was slowly, slowly dragged into the fire’s depths. Only when her screams had completely abated did they slow their movements, coming to a halt. Some hung their heads; others pressed their finger tips to their lips and foreheads in a show of respect for the sister the forces had seen apt to take from them.

The women began to leave the clearing, in groups of two's or three's, slowly trickling out until only two remained. The younger of the two toed a still smoking log, her pale skin gleaming in the moonlight. "I didn't expect Clarisse to be the one."

The other woman, tall and lithe, sighed mournfully. Her weariness could not hide the beauty of her features, could not mask the natural regality of her movements. "The spirits move in odd ways sometimes, Chey. We must trust that they know best. Clarisse must have done something to anger them." A small wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. “It is odd that they did not offset taking Clarisse by gifting another. It is abnormal for it not to work in balance.”

Cheyenne nodded, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully. "I thought it would be you. I mean, obviously with how it ended, I'm glad it wasn't, but still."

Extending a slender hand out to her, the older one smiled. "I trust my time will come. Let's head back, shall we?"

With her arm wrapped around the sloping shoulders of the other, the pair made their way out of the clearing, along the well worn path in the forest's brush. Cheyenna listened to the hum of the forest, the croaking of the toads, the wind whistling through the tree branches, the soft mewling of animals best left unseen. But beneath it all, barely detectable - a new sort of sound.

She strained her ears, trying to identify what it was that was different tonight. A soft, lilting tone, dancing on the wind. Musical, almost. It was as if it was just barely on the border of her comprehension, understanding lurking nearby, like an idea that slips away before you've grasped it.

Shaking her head, she focused on the words her elder sister now said to her. “We’ll need to begin funeral plans almost immediately.” Her sister sounded forlorn, sadness clinging on to each word. “But we can wait until the morning at least.”

Cheyenna nodded, but the music of the trees was rising in volume, swelling, cresting, telling her its secrets.