“Why don’t you dance with the others?” I jumped at Margareta’s voice.
I watched as people of all ages swayed around the bonfires. There was something primordial in their movements, not dictated by specific steps—just bodies tuned to music and joy and thetriumph of light over dark. I was meant for the shadows, not this. But I couldn’t say that.
“I don’t have a dance partner,” I said simply.
Margareta surprised me with a chuckle. “And why is that exactly?”
My brow furrowed. “There aren’t many who would want to dance with a witch’s daughter.”
At that, Margareta let out a very rude sound. “Child, I highly doubt the young men of Bamberg give two shits about who your mother was, especially with a face like yours.”
“Sister Margareta!” My mouth hung open in shock at the profanity.
Margareta only shrugged her bony shoulders and downed the rest of her wine. “I’m a nun, dear, not a saint.” She gestured vaguely with her cup, and I followed the movement to find Stefan, the vintner, watching me. His blonde curls had tumbled over his face, and he gave me a meek grin. I quickly looked away.
He was a sweet man, if a bit shy. I thought of the shared smiles and the color that always rose on his cheeks when I came to collect wine for the convent. In the flickering bonfire light, I glimpsed a soft future: my fingers stained purple as we worked the fruit press, a blonde child clinging to the hem of my skirt.
I blinked, and the vision was gone, replaced by the laughter of flesh-and-blood children as they ran screaming around the fire. I watched them overwhelm Heinrich. It was clear he was now the dragon and they the knights. He grinned and wrestled with them, even as his jaw clenched tight, his knee wobbling under the strain.
My fingers tightened around my cup. Softness wasn’t something I knew how to accept.
Margareta followed my gaze, then fixed me with a gentler look. “Or perhaps you do have a dance partner, but something else holds you back?”
I drained my wine and stood, the world tilting slightly. The dancing and laughter around me felt suddenly overwhelming, a kind of vision into a life I knew in my heart I would never have.
“I need air,” I mumbled to Sister Margareta, who nodded knowingly.
“Don’t wander far, child. Lest the witches take you.”
I drifted back toward the shadows. The forest loomed dark beyond the last houses, and I remembered my mother’s warnings about Walpurgisnacht. It was a night when spirits walked freely as witches flew to Brocken Mountain in the north to welcome spring. How they liked to snatch small children who strayed too far from the fires.
A flash of white caught my eye—a child in a nightshirt, no more than six, darting between the houses toward the tree line.
“Wait!” I called, but the music was too loud. The child disappeared into the shadows between buildings.
I glanced back at the celebration. I should fetch one of the guards. But the child was so small, and the forest so dark, and by the time I found help…
I followed, my feet unsteady from the wine. The music faded as I moved between houses, replaced by an eerie quiet. The child’s white shift flickered ahead like a moth, leading deeper into the narrow alleys that bordered the woods.
“Little one, stop!” My voice echoed strangely off the walls.
The child paused at the forest’s edge and turned—but where its face should have been, I saw only shadows. Then it vanished into the trees.
My skin prickled. An unnatural chill swept over me, raising gooseflesh. But loneliness and wine made me bold—or foolish. I couldn’t leave a child alone in the woods on Walpurgisnacht. I plunged into the forest without looking back. Besides, there was nothing to be frightened of…
Moonlight barely penetrated the canopy. Branches caught in my hair and snagged my dress. The white figure slipped between trees, always ahead, always just out of reach. My breath came hard, and I realized I’d been running, though I couldn’t remember when I started.
“Katharina.”
I froze. Heinrich’s voice, somewhere to my left. Why was he here?
“Heinrich?” I called back. “There’s a child?—”
“Katharina, come here.” His voice was closer now, laced with invitation. “I’ve been looking for you.”
But Heinrich had been with the children. How could he have known I’d come this way?
“Where are you?” I asked, turning in a slow circle. The white figure had vanished, and I suddenly couldn’t remember which direction led back to town.
