Past the stream the ground rose again and was swallowed into a line of thick trees. The trees were old, with gnarled bark, huge, spreading roots, and limbs as big around as barrels. Under the trees the darkness was almost impenetrable, yet I saw clearly and had no trouble picking my way through the underbrush.

Once we were through the trees, we found ourselves in an old cemetery.

I saw Robbie blinking. Raven and Beth shared amused smiles, and Jenna slipped her hand into Matt's. Ethan snorted but stepped closer to Sharon when she looked unsure. I knew Bree was feeling confused only because I can decipher almost every nuance of her expression.

"This is an old Methodist graveyard," Cal told us, resting his hand nonchalantly on a tall tombstone carved in the shape of a cross. "Graveyards are good places to celebrate Samhain. Tonight we honor those who have passed before us, and we acknowledge that one day we too shall pass into dust, only to be reborn."

Cal turned and led the way down a row of tombstones to what looked like a large, raised sarcophagus. A huge old stone, lichened and stained with hundreds of years of rain and snow and wind, covered a raised granite box. Its carved letters were impossible to make out even in the bright moonlight.

"This is our altar for tonight," Cal said, reaching down and opening a duffel bag. He handed a cloth to Sharon. "Could you spread this out please?"

Sharon took it and spread it gingerly over the sarcophagus. Cal handed Ethan two large brass candlesticks, and Ethan set them on the altar.

"Jenna? Robbie? Can you arrange all the fruit and stuff?" Cal asked.

They gathered the offerings we had brought, and Jenna arranged it artistically on the altar in a cornucopia effect There were apples, winter squashes, a pumpkin, and a bowl of nuts Bree had brought.

I took my flowers and Jenna's and Sharon's and put them into glass vases at either side of the altar. Beth gathered some boughs of dried autumn leaves and arranged them on the altar behind the food. Raven collected the other candles people had brought, including my black pillar, and fixed them to the sarcophagus by dripping wax and setting them on it Matt lit all the candles in turn. There was hardly any wind here, and they barely flickered in the night. When the candles were lit the place seemed more threatening somehow. I liked the idea of being able to hide in the darkness and felt exposed and vulnerable with the candlelight reflecting on my face.

"Now, everyone gather here in the middle," Cal instructed. "Jenna? Raven? Would you like to draw our circle and purify it?"

I was jealous he had chosen them—probably we all were. Cal watched the two girls patiently, ready to help if necessary. But they worked carefully together, and soon the circle was cast and purified with water, air, fire, and earth.

Now that I was again with a circle, I felt exultant, expectant. The only thing that marred my mood was Bree's dark brooding and Raven's air of superiority. I tried to ignore them, to focus only on magick, my magick, and to open myself to perceptions from any source beyond my five senses.

"Our circle is now cast," Jenna said with awe in her voice. We all moved outward to stand just within its boundary. I made certain that I was between Matt and Robbie, two positive forces who wouldn't distract or upset me.

Cal took a small bottle and uncorked it. Moving deasil, clockwise, around the circle, he dipped his finger into it and drew a pentacle, a five-pointed star within a circle, on each of our foreheads.

"What is this?" I asked, the only person to speak.

Cal smiled faintly. "Salt water." He drew a pentacle on my forehead, his finger wet and gentle. Where he traced felt warm, as, if it were glowing with power.

When he was finished, he took his place in the circle. "Tonight we're here to form a new coven," he said. "We gather to celebrate the Goddess and the God, to celebrate nature, to explore and create and worship magick, and to explore the magickal powers both within ourselves and without ourselves."

In the next moment of silence, I heard myself say, "Blessed be," and the others echoed it. Cal smiled.

"Anyone who wishes not to be of this coven, please break the circle now," Cal said.

No one moved.

"Welcome," Cal said. "Merry meet and blessed be. As we gather, so we'll be. The ten of us have found our haven, here within the Cirrus Coven."

I thought, Cirrus? It was a nice name.

"You nine will now be inducted as novitiates, students of this coven," Cal explained. "I'll teach you what I know, then together we can seek out new teachers to take us farther on our journey."

The only time I'd heard the word novitiate used was in relation to priests or nuns. I shifted on my feet, feeling the dense, soft ground beneath me. Overhead, the moon was high and white, huge. Every once in a while we heard the sound of a car or firecrackers. But in this place, in our circle, there was a deep, abiding silence, broken only by animals' night calls, the fluttering wings of bats and owls, the occasionally heard trickle of the stream.

Within myself I also felt a deep stillness. As if being put to bed one by one, my fears and uncertainties quieted. My senses were on full alert, and I felt incredibly alive. The candles, the breathing of the people with me, the scent of the flowers and fruit we had brought, all combined to create a wonderful, deep connection to Nature, the Goddess who is everywhere, all around us.

In the bowl of earth in the northern position, Cal lit an incense stick, and soon we were surrounded by the comforting scents of cinnamon and nutmeg. We joined hands. Unlike the other two times I had participated in a circle, tonight I was neither examining nor dreading what might happen. I kept my mind open.

Matt's and Robbie's hands were larger than mine; Matt's smooth and slender, Robbie's bulkier than Cal's had been. My eyes flicked to Robbie's face. It was smooth and unlined. I had done that, and within me I felt a recognition of and a pride in my own power.

Cal began the chant as we moved deasil around our circle.

I counted as we danced around the circle, and we chanted nine times. The more I studied Wicca, the more I realized that witches wove symbolism into just about everything: plants, numbers, days of the week, colors, times of the year, even fabrics, food, and flowers. Everything has a meaning. My job as a student would be to learn these symbols, to learn as much as I could about the nature surrounding me, and to weave myself into its pattern and magick.

As we chanted I thought about the end, when we would throw up our arms to release our energy. Once again I felt worried as I remembered the pain and nausea I had felt before. My facade of certainty began to crack, allowing in tendrils of fear. My power seemed scary.

Just as suddenly, as we whirled in our circle, singing the chant like a round, weaving our voices in and among one another, I realized that my fear would cause me pain if I didn't let it go right now. I breathed deeply, feeling the chant leave my throat, surrounded by the coven in our circle, and I tried to banish fear, banish limitations.

Faces were blurred. I felt out of control. I banish fear! The words of our chant slurred until it was a beautiful rhythm of pure sound, rising and falling and swirling around me. I was having trouble breathing, and my face was hot and damp with sweat. I wanted to throw off my jacket, throw off my shoes. I had to stop. I had to banish fear.