The Flame in the Snow

The hard-packed snow crunches underfoot.

More than thirty of us wend our way in single file on the narrow trail along the frozen pond. All around, the woods are whisper-still, silent watchers of this curious band of darkling figures inching forward with short, halting steps.

No creaking branches on this windless night; no fallen leaves can rustle under almost-virgin white. Only the sound of trudging feet disturbs the silence; only the tracks of our grim passage mar the snow.

I am not pleased to be a part of such indelicate intrusion: This is as close to a notion of sin as I allow myself, but sin--if such it is--we must. It is the eve of February, the night of Imbolg, the time of midwinter. Tonight, the covens gather in the forest.

There is a clearing up the hillock bearing left, a site where we have met for years. Most of us could easily find it in the dark, but tonight the sky is clear, the stars are glimmering, and the moon is just past full.

One by one we reach the meeting place, and one by one we form a ring. Gloves and mittens drop, and naked hand on naked hand the link is made.

Silence and stillness reign again, if just for a brief tenure. We have no need for words. Our eyes gradually close, a hairsbreadth at a time, summoning darkness. Gradually, too, our breathing slows and deepens and shifts: breath by breath, the familiar pattern grows. The transition is subtle, almost imperceptible, yet I can sense it all around.

In the next moment, the change comes over me--a liquid surge, both explosion and implosion all at once. I can feel my body changing, my shape loosening, shifting, growing. Everything goes numb. My mind reels as if about to collapse--the usual moment of swirling, spinning vertigo; then clarity, sharp as a razor, icy silver-blue like the shard of moon above. My entire being shivers with a spasm, though not from the cold.

I can feel my body again, softly throbbing as if fed by a mild electric flow. I can feel my senses opening, expanding, adapting to the change coursing over me, becoming charged, intensified. A wild burst of scent suffuses me--sweat, bark, snow, after-shave lotion, pine needles, leather. I am suddenly very warm.

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