The cold winter air stings my eyes.

The breeze playfully ruffles through my hair, and I can hear a whisper in the wind.

Mother is calling me.

I whistle sharply, calling my familiar.

I don't hear her paws strike the earth, the wind is too loud. A shadow falls over me, consuming my figure as I reach my arms out towards her muzzle. I run my now ice cold fingers through her fur, a beautiful black that brings stark contrast to her lilac eyes. Her pupils are slit, eye lids fluttering against the chill of the harsh wind. Her claws dug into the earth as another wave of voices cause her ears to prick in alarm.

'It's ok, it's just my sisters. Take me to my mother.'

Her sharp eyes hold mine for a moment before she bows down, her paws digging into the fresh earth. I place my bare heels into her side, my hands using her thick coat to lift myself onto her back. A second of hesitation before her paws bound against the earth, the only thing keeping me stationed on her back was the iron clad grip my hands held with her fur.

The wind only got harsher as we neared the grove, the whispers getting all but louder. She halted suddenly, by the roots of the willow, a clear message not to go further, but my sisters needed me. My bare feet sank into the freshly damp soil as I stepped away from her, before turning to face the willow. I held my robe tight in my hands, my knuckles turning white. I held my breath as I stood a few inches from the trunk. Reaching my hand out to her, the bark felt rough and ancient, twisting and swirling like it had been painted by only the finest of hands. Each scratch and pattern intricately etched into the wood.

The wind whispered again, this time loud enough to understand.

'Your sisters are waiting.'

I shivered as I realized my familiar had turned heel and slipped away. I was alone, with Her. I took a shaky breath as my hands came down to rest over my chest. I started to chant an incantation. An ancient tongue, only known by the few witches who still resided in these woods. My sisters voices started to whisper in my ears. I could only hear them if I focused on my voice, like a shadow at the edge of your vision, only visible out of the corner of your eye. I could feel their hands on my arms, the phantom touch still brining an ache to my heart. Their voices chanted with me as I felt that familiar sensation crawl up my body. My hands trembled as my arms gradually turned from ivory, to mahogany brown. The wind was building, so was the voices of my sisters. And soon whispers became the only sound I could hear, until the darkness enveloped me and my vision went black.