Adjusting her deep-blue shawl as she gazes into her looking-glass, a young woman prepares herself for a big night. Picking up a thick, white book from her bed, she hugs it closely to her body and glances out the window; it is late afternoon, and as the sun begins to set, it casts forth a lovely array of colours into the sky. Opening a drawer, she removes a small, bronze broach and touches the colourful agate gem set in it. As she looks out the window again, a voice calls from outside her room:
"Come on, Farkhonda," calls a woman's voice, "hurry up or we shall be late. I don't know: this girl of ours. She spends so long getting ready it'll be next month before we see her - she must get that from you, Hæread."
"I seem to remember spending many an evening standing around waiting for you when we were young, Charunya dear," came a muffled man's voice from a little further away.
Gently bringing her braided, red locks across her shoulder, the young woman opens the door and grins before speaking: "Come, mother, if you keep talking about why I am always late, we really shall be running late."
With a 'hrmph', Charunya - another red-haired woman, whose appearance belies her age - hurries her daughter out of the front door of the house, while telling her husband not to wait up, as they shall be home late. Stepping out into the street, she adjusts her own agate broach, and tucks her own white-bound book under her arm as she picks a few flowers to place in her hair, as her daughter had already done. Looking towards the setting sun, the two of them make their way out of the small village, and head towards the woods.
__________A young, dark haired couple stand arm in arm at the front door to their cottage, whispering to each other. Their peaceful moment is suddenly broken by a voice, which makes them both jump.
"Ah, to be young again," mused an elderly woman as she twisted her silvery hair around a finger, staring at the two as she leant on their gate.
"Sister," greeted the young woman in surprise as she readjusted her dress.
"Ma'm," nodded the blushing young man as he looked down to his feet.
With a final parting kiss, the man shuffled inside as the two women left; each carrying white-bound books and wearing agate broaches.
"So, Khoriva, exactly a year since you were wed," cooed the elderly woman, "perhaps you should ask Charunya if you may leave early, so that you may continue the celebrations at home."
"Sobimira, please, hush," interjected Khoriva as she began to turn as red as her husband had before.
"Oh, I was young once too: you'll have to trust me on that one," chuckled Sobimira as she put an arm around the younger woman and they headed out of the village.
__________As four women walk down the street laughing amongst themselves, a small group of men look on.
"Look at them," grumbled one man, "Bakhtafrida, Khvika, Nekakhtar and Rushada! Every May Day it's the same thing: agate broaches and flowers in their hair as they leave the village with their precious, white books. No men allowed, only the women in their group allowed; what do they get up to?"
"Come now," laughed another as he quickly looked away, "you know women as well as I do. What happens when a group of them get together laughing? They are gossiping! They meet the same few times every year to share gossip, and have made a party out of them - Vira tells me they have been doing it for countless generations."
"Well then," mused another, "I do not suppose your wife ever told you why even their husbands are not invited, even if not all the women are?"
"No," he lied, "but it's obvious, is it not? Have you never walked into a room with a group of women only for them to stop talking and start laughing? What do you think they were talking about? You of cause! I would imagine they are mostly talking about us."
"Well, that would make sense," replied the first, "would explain why May Day too, as almost all of them were married on this day."
"I still say it's too risky what they do," grumbled a fourth, "what if they were cursed by a witch, or devourered by a Werewolf? I heard once someone entered those woods and was charmed by an elf - I kid you not - and lead off to their realm; a land not of this world - ne'er again were they seen."
At that, the others laughed at his silly superstitions before they all walked back into the tavern for another ale.
__________A group of women stand in the shadows of a forest, on the edge of a clearing; chatting amongst themselves, they await the arrival of the last two. In the clearing lies a natural spring, beside which a large table has been prepared with large jugs of milk, cheeses, oatmeal biscuits and cakes, and marigold custard lain out, with hawthorn and honeysuckle lain decoratively around the table. On the far side of the clearing is a pile of wood. When the last two women arrived, one of them hurried to the front and entered the clearing, before speaking.
"I, Zota Charunya, welcome you all - my sisters - to this Beltane celebration," she greeted with a smile, "Come forth as you are recognised, and join in the festivities. I recognise Frabardar Bahmanar."
A raven-haired woman comed forth, embraces Charunya, and maked her way to the table where she sits at the first seat clockwise from the head.
"I recognise Asnatar Vira," again called the firey-haired woman.
A coal-haired woman comes forth, again the two embrace, and she heads to the table, where she sits to Bahmanar's left.
"I recognise Srosharar'z Kalina."
A woman with short, brown hair enters the clearing, embraces Charunya, then sits by Vira's left, before taking up a lyre from the table and struming it.
"I recognise Atarevakhsh Sobimira."
The eldest of the women comes forth, they embrace, then she shuffles over to the pile of wood and begins preparing a bonfire for the celebrations.
"I recognise Rathwiskar Semibora."
Again a woman approaches, embraces the Zota, then sits at the table; opposite Vira.
"I recognise Havanan Franak."
The last of the older women comes forth, they embrace, and she sits to the right-hand of the head of the table.
"As per the joyous occation of this great festival, I also recognise Sisters Khvika, Nekakhtar, Bakhtafrida, Rushada, Khoriva and Farkhonda."
The last of the women enter the clearing and approach the table. Once the Zota sits at the head of the table, they too take a seat, with Farkhonda - the youngest of all - at the foot of the table; taking up her Lute, she joins Kalina's melody. Once the bonfire begins to roar, the music begins in earnest, and all sing heartily of they great mariage between The Goddess and the Horned God, and enjoy the feast lain out on the table. As the last crumb and drop of their great meal is completed, Semibora lights thirteen bayberry candles - one for each woman presant - and places some frankincense upon a censor - for the divine couple's wedding.
As the moon rises high, the group continue to the next part of their celebrations. Each taking up a ribbon, they advance on a small birch, alone on the edge of the clearing. Carefully looping one end of their ribbons over the upper branches of it, they each begin to dance around it as they hold onto the ribbons; slowly they dress the tree like this until at last their ribbons run short. All standing back, the Zota speaks.
"As we weave our web of life around this living Maypole," she recites, "may the web of our village's life hold strong. May She watch over us all, and those in our lives, and may we welcome all threads that cross our own in the greater web of life."
Kalina and Farkhonda begin to play a new song: at once, all the women dance together, weaving in and out as the ribbons on the birch - all except the elderly Sobimira, who simply claps her hands to the beat, smiling all the while. They dance with an unearthly energy, until - without warning - the music stops. A gentle breeze began to blow: the sign they had been waiting for. All heading to the fire, they move to the east of it, and watch as the flames and smoke dance every which way. Closly the Atarevakhsh scrutinises the dancing flames, until they come to rest: the north wind blows strongly, and the smoke begins to billow south.
"A favourable portent," she stated cheerily, "the harvests shall be successfull, and all shall prosper."
"She smiles upon us," stated the Zota, "and brings us all a bright future. Tonight we have celebrated Their wedding, and joined in Their reception: the party is now over though, and the divine couple should be left alone as any newlyweds. We now return to our homes, and continue to do Her works, until we gather here again for the Sabbath of Midsummer. I tire, as I am sure you all do too my sisters, but before we go, there is one final task we should set to. Bahmanar."
Heading to the Spring, the Frabardar picks up thirteen small vials, and passes one to Charunya, who reitterates the purpose of this ritual.
"The waters from this spring, when collected at this time, enrich the powers of any healing potion you add it to over the next year. Use these well my sisters."
Filling each vial with water, she ensures everyone recieves one, then in silence they all leave the clearing, and return to their homes. Each of them arrives home, and returns to her bed, shortly before dawn; another important ceremony had been fulfilled, and this coven of witches had ensured the prosperity of their small home, in the south of Azuron.