In which there is a great deal of witchcraft || Sophowl
Howl Pendragon was set to meet Miss Sophie Hadder on the 21st of December. They were going to be meeting a bit ways in the forest—Howl had sent a lovely little message in the shape of a butterfly to Miss Hadder’s shop and it was supposed to have landed on her counter and unfurl its wings and become a little note that would guide her to the exact clearing.
There were many clearings in Enchantra that were used for spells (and some used by fairies, but those were not at all useful to the complex spells of sorcerers), and this particularly clearing had a stump in the middle and was surrounded by lithe birch trees, whose bare branches chattered in the cold winter breeze.
Howl had brought his collection of reagents—and also Calcifer, along in a little jar. He set Calcifer atop the stump and unscrewed the lid of the jar. Cal rose up, leaning his flames on the rim, and gazing out at the clearing.
“You should’ve walked with her, Howl, she’s gonna get lost,” said Calcifer.
“She won’t—the note will guide her,” said Howl, tugging off his leather gloves with his teeth and stuffing them into his belt.
“The note only works with magic.”
“And she has plenty of that,” replied Howl calmly. “I have full confidence in Miss Hadder.”
Calcifer sighed, a puff of smoke rising up to the air. Howl tilted his head up at the waxing crescent in the sky, a sliver of silver against the starry blackness. Hands on his hips, he stood still like that. Calcifer, too, looked up.
If Howl could feel, thought Calcifer, maybe he would feel small and lost—maybe he would feel big and powerful. Stars had a way of doing that, Calcifer had learned. He’d come from a star, and still—when he looked up at them, he often felt like he was a part of something bigger.
But Howl could not feel. Howl was thinking about how lovely the starlight might look in his hair or in a scarf or on a nice shiny necklace around Melaenis’s neck. Howl was thinking about getting that curve of moonlight and making a nice little cloak for Maggie. Howl was thinking about harvesting the whisper of the branches and using it for a nice spell of quiet for Belle when she needed rest.
There was a crackle of twigs and Howl turned around, beaming brightly.
“Ah! Sophie! I’m glad you got here alright.” He wriggled an eyebrow to Calcifer, then glided over, hand extended.