sympathy, a brief, light touch on her bent back. Leveret stiffened, too frightened to look up for fear of what she might see. She tasted words, words that danced towards her on dark wings.
‘Little hare, I’m waiting for you. You’re the dark one with the gift and you won’t walk alone. I’m here, waiting and watching.’
She felt something brush her cheek and shrank in terror. Was she imagining all this? She must still be hallucinating. Slowly she lowered her hands from her face, and in her lap she found a black feather.
A wind had sprung up, starting as a slight breeze but increasing in intensity. The leaves on the Village Green stirred and then began to dance across the grass. Youngsters still fooling about outside felt the coolness on their overheated skin and began to think they’d had enough. They made their way back to the Barn where the Jack o’ Lanterns flickered precariously in the steady draught. Out of the blue came a really sharp gust of wind and many of the guttering flames were extinguished in an instant. People gasped as it suddenly became much darker inside and the Samhain decorations took on a more sinister cast.
Inside the wicker dome Yul felt the wind pushing through the gaps. The hanging black feathers fluttered and spun around him. His dark curls lifted from his forehead in the gusts and he breathed deeply, feeling wild and free. He loved the elements and the touch of this wild wind made him want to leap on Skydancer and gallop hard along the Dragon’s Back ridgeway. He felt the muscles in his legs tensing and laughed as the breeze suddenly tore through the wicker and snatched his breath away.
Sylvie sensed the leaves falling all around her as she walked under the beech trees, the breeze sighing mournfully in the branches, louder and louder and whipping her black cloak out behind her in a sudden gust. She was glad to reach the massive oak door in the porch and tug it open, holding it tightly so it didn’t swing back in the strengthening wind. She crossed the vast entrance hall, unusually deserted, and started up the wide stairs, her fingers brushing the oak banister rail. Only a couple of dim night-lights burned and it was deathly quiet in the Hall. Everyone must still be down in the Village or already in their beds.
She felt the size of the building around her, so huge and silent. Turning at the top of the stairs into the dark corridor that ran the length of the huge front block, Sylvie opened the heavy door leading into the sitting room of their apartments. It was pitch black inside and she padded silently across the carpet towards a table lamp by the cold fireplace, craving the warmth and reassurance of light. Outside, the wind battered against the diamond window panes, moaning and rattling at the glass. Sylvie shivered in her grey and black robes and felt an inkling of why Yul disliked Samhain so much.
Up in the Stone Circle the flames in the red lanterns danced in the gusting wind. The five white figures, supine on the sledges, were motionless; only the material of their thin tunics moved in the breeze. The Bird and the crones, with the robed figures who’d dragged the sledges into the centre and a few chosen others, all stood within the circle of salt cast inside the Stone Circle. They’d been dancing for a while, weeks of preparation paying off as they cried their chant perfectly to the dark night, singing the words wildly and raising the energy to screaming pitch. The thirteen now stood breathing heavily after their frenzied cavorting, arms raised in supplication to the black skies. The wind howled around them and then there was a rumble of thunder, long and low, from beyond the hills.
‘He comes, sister!’ cried Violet, the words snatched from her mouth by the rising wind. Long grey straggles of hair whipped from under her hood across her face.
‘’Tis thunder,’ said Vetchling. ‘Only the thunder.’
‘Nay, you fool! He is of the elements and he rides the storm, he is the storm. He’s coming to our midst, sister, and we must be prepared to greet him. The Dark Magic has worked, as I knew it would.’
Vetchling shook her head, still unsure. She looked across at the Bird who stood with upturned face and raised hands, his mask in place. Slowly he started to turn on the spot, chanting as