“I love horses,” she says. “Will you tell Mi?osz I’m so glad he’s come to stay with us? He is magnificent!”
I relay these sentiments to Mi?osz, and he nickers in response to the flattery. Dominika pulls an apple out of her coat pocket and asks, “May I give this to him?”
“Of course.” She moves it under his nose, presenting it on top of her palm, and he nabs it with his lips and then crunches down with evident satisfaction.
Magdalena has a giant mane of dark hair that frames her head and hides her neck so that her very pale face appears to float in black waters. Her complexion combined with that hair remind me uncomfortably of the Morrigan. But it’s not her hair that she’s using to charm people: She uses her eyebrows, shaped into graceful arches, and an uncanny ability to raise either of them independently or waggle them around.
Casting eyes sideways at Berta and Martyna, she says to me, “You should not be eating cakes or cookies. Scones are best.”
“Oh. You’ve made scones, then?”
Her right eyebrow lifts heavenward. “No. I can’t bake for shit, as you Americans say. I just have strong opinions about breakfast. We should not be feeding you cake and cookies as the sun is rising. You need meat and cheese, and if there must be bread, then a scone.”
<Oh, I like this one,> Orlaith says.
Zofia is the definition of petite: I’m not sure she’s fully five feet tall. Her hood is up, fringed in white fur, and a thick braid of auburn hair spills out of it and falls down to her chest. She nods and says only, “Pleased to meet you,” in a thick accent. I think, like Ewelina, she is reserved because of language rather than because she has nothing more to say.
Patrycja is either the daughter of immigrants to Poland or one parent is not ethnically Polish. Her complexion is russet brown and I’m sure she’s asked constantly about her heritage, so I don’t ask—it doesn’t matter anyway. She’s dressed in winter running clothes and wearing a pair of those abnormally bright running shoes, so I’m guessing she likes her exercise.
“Did you really run all the way here from Germany?” she asks.
“I did. I had help, though. Gaia provided most of the speed and energy.”
The last witch, with deep-set eyes, a narrow nose, and brown hair chopped evenly at her shoulders, approaches with a gift-wrapped rectangle in her hand. “I’m Anna,” she says. “This is for you.”
“Oh! Thanks, Anna,” I say, taking it from her and unwrapping the package. It’s a collection of poems by Wis?awa Szymborska, both in Polish and English, side by side. “This is perfect! Thank you!”
“We thought it would be a nudge in the right direction,” she says. “We will help you all you want with the language, you know.”
“I’m genuinely looking forward to it.”
With introductions complete and a few more apples offered to Mi?osz, we lead him around the side of the house, which is a strip of property wide enough to drive a car through—and that’s by design, I see, since there’s a garage tucked in the back, out of sight from the street. There’s also plenty of room for Mi?osz in the rear of the property, easily a full acre if you subtract the house, though I notice that the fences are further screened with cedars and evergreens.
Malina returns with a shirt and jacket for me, sees where I’m looking, and says, “Yes, we have privacy around the perimeter, and a little farther on you’ll see that the canopy of that oak and willow provide an aerial screen as well. That’s where we do all the outdoor rituals.”
I spy a fire pit, a bona fide cauldron hanging above it, and a makeshift altar underneath the trees. “What kind of rituals would those be?”
“Like your divination cloak. We’ll get started as soon as you’re ready. You’ve certainly held up your end.”
“Oh, I’m ready. Let’s do it. But let me ask Mi?osz first if he needs anything.”
Sending images along with my words, I ask him, <Do you need water or food?>
I get the sense that he wouldn’t mind some of both, and I turn to Dominika. “He’d like something to eat and drink.”
“Great! If he’ll follow me I’ll show him where we’ll be keeping him.”
<Follow Dominika. Tan person with blond mane,> I tell him, pointing to her. He obligingly clops after her and she giggles a bit.
“It’s so cool that you can talk to him. Druids are awesome.”
“Thanks. So are witches.”
“Save me a spot in the circle, Sisters,” Dominika says. “I’ll be there as soon as I finish with our handsome guest.”