“The point is to join the celestial realm with the natural dominion, not silence the connection. The moon has a long way to travel and needs coaxing,” stated Ms. Adele flatly.

Right as Aunt Georgia let out a frustrated grunt, there was a loud crash in the distance that sounded like it came from the kitchen. Emerald imagined every pot and pan suddenly falling to the ground from the rack which hung over the kitchen’s large central island. Though she desperately wished to go back to sleep, Emerald yawned and stretched and decided today would not be a hospitable day for lounging idly. As she sat up and peered through her bedroom window, Emerald noted that several tents had sprung up during the night. Out in the field beside her new home, there now stood somewhere between seventeen and seventy-five shabby, homemade looking dwellings. Most of the tents appeared to display large mismatched patches of fabric one could only assume served to cover sizable holes in the roofs of each residence. Some of the new tenants had also erected clothes lines or started small smoldering campfires near their front flaps. People were everywhere. Eccentric looking people — wearing what appeared to be hand-painted garments. Emerald concluded that these people, by the look of them, were primarily affiliated with her mother’s side of the family.

Her belly growling loudly, Emerald slid her covers back and gave a final sigh before standing. The kitchen would decidedly be her first stop this morning. The house still felt strange to her, but it wasn’t too terrible. She liked how the floor boards gave just a little, bowing and creaking beneath the weight of her feet as she crossed her new room. Immediately upon opening her bedroom door Emerald saw Bingley slowly padding up the stairs towards her.

“Good morning Bing!”

Bingley barely acknowledged her, in typical cat fashion, looking through her and raising her chin slightly.

“What was the loud noise a moment ago?” Emerald asked.

Bingley, only having three legs. She likely would have preferred spacing out her trips between the upper and lower floors to conserve energy. Having just gone upstairs, Emerald considered picking her up to save the cat so much effort, but Bingley did not request help. So, she decided to just wait patiently for her descent.

As Bingley landed on the bottom step, Phoebe thanked them both and waved goodbye before hurrying back into the kitchen. Right as Emerald closed the front door behind her, she heard another crash of pots and pans and felt glad to be leaving. Emerald and Bingley set off down the long dirt path leading away from the farm house and newly established campground.

“Emerald, do you think you would mind carrying me?” asked Bingley.

“Of course Bing! I’m really glad you’re coming with me into town,” she said with a gentle smile.

Emerald bent down wordlessly and scooped Bingley into one of the grocery totes her mother sent along with them. After a slight adjustment, Bingley’s head and one of her front paws poked out the top of the canvas bag and rested, spilling over the front, her weight bobbing softly with each of Emerald’s steps.

“Bing, how old was my mother when she began to sing her magic?” Emerald asked, exchanging her vulnerability for Bingley’s.

“I’m not entirely certain,” said Bingley thoughtfully. “I believe it was when she was around four or five years old.”

“Four or five!” exclaimed Emerald. “Will I ever be able to sing spells like she does? I’m almost sixteen!”

“Every witch I’ve ever known discovers her magic in her own time. You can’t rush what grows,” offered Bingley. “There is powerful magic in growth.”

Thinking about Bingley’s answer, Emerald shifted her focus inward, dropping the conversational thread. They walked like that for a while together, heading through the dense forest which separated their farm from the rest of the town.

“Before we find the market, I need coffee and something to eat,” said Emerald beginning to look scarily fatigued.

Bingley only mewed approval, not wanting to draw attention to them both by forcing Emerald to hold whole conversations with the cat in her tote bag.

Heading into the center of Maple Hollow, they passed a few quaint boutiques all featuring clothing Emerald judged to be a bit too frilly for her taste and an antique shop with a large window display full of books that she mentally noted wanting to potentially revisit later. Not long into their exploration, wandering the narrow streets speckled with shade and soft light, Emerald could smell that coffee was nearby. Initially following friendly voices, they entered a sunlit plaza and quickly spotted a cluster of happy-looking townspeople chatting animatedly, sitting at petite wooden and wicker tables. The front of the cafe was painted a warm cream color with densely packed flower boxes hung from the prominent windows.

Instantly rejuvenated by the bold scent of espresso, Emerald excitedly passed through the crowd of patrons and opened the front door. Bingley abruptly yanked her head backward into Emerald’s tote bag as the bells over the entryway chimed loudly. The cafe was half full. Inside, people were sitting at various points around the room apparently working fastidiously. The interior boasted a high ceiling with long exposed wooden rafters and Emerald could see a wall of cubby shelves behind the counter filled with loaves of bread. The combined smells of fresh sourdough and warm coffee made Emerald’s stomach growl wildly. Looking slightly flustered, Bingley slowly popped her head back out from the top of the bag hanging under Emerald’s arm and made tiny sniffs at the air. The walls were paneled with shiplap and painted white, obscured only by a large glass case of baked goods set into the back of the room. Emerald and Bingley approached the counter built onto the glass case where a tall, thin girl about Emerald’s age was standing, wearing a short pale blue gingham dress and oversized flannel. Her long dirty blonde hair tucked behind her ears, hung down, framing either side of her face as she looked down at a book behind the register.

“Was it just me or did Cassie seem uneasy?” said Bingley in a low voice, now comfortably perched atop the grocery tote spread over the seat of the chair opposite Emerald. She was barely tall enough to see over the table, yet somehow appeared as natural and poised as any other human customer.

“Iwozz…thehnking…the sam…sthing!” garbled Emerald, barely intelligible with her mouth full, munching on mangled chunks of croissant.

Bingley expressed mild disdain for Emerald’s lack of manners, the cat looking away and narrowing her eyes. Just then, the bells over the front door chimed again causing Bingley to puff up, all her fur standing on end.

“I really do not like those bells,” hissed Bingley.

With the chime, entered a rowdy group of teenagers talking noisily. Emerald looked on, curiosity turning into horror, as a dark haired girl pointed over towards the register, an action which preceded the rest of the group snickering conspicuously. They continued whispering to each other, Emerald only catching bits of what was being said.

“…he’s so weird…” muttered one boy.

“…what a freak…” interjected a girl’s voice.

“…let’s just leave…” said another.

Then suddenly, the first girl who had originally pointed, looked over her shoulder and shouted across the cafe, “See you at school Cassie!” Her voice lingering on the last syllable of Cassie’s name in a taunting way.

With that, the teens howled with laughter before making their way back outside. Cassie, who did not respond to the group’s antics, brought over Emerald’s coffee along with a small saucer of milk for Bingley. Her body looked crumpled and her eyes were now glassy, though she wouldn’t meet Emerald’s gaze.