My hands hover over the dancing flame, barely grazing the heat. Someone sits across the fire. The wind shifts from a light breeze to a harsher pre-storm wind as tension grows between us.
“They can’t come now.”
“I know,” I answer instantly.
“Then why do you sit with stress on your face?”
“Who’s that then?” He strains his head to attempt to see what I can see. I see a black shadowy figure in the fog.
“I see nothing.” A claim made at first glimpse. The staring continues with a squint of the eyes until he turns back to face the flame. In all mistrust, “liar” is the word to come out of his foolish mouth.
“The breath of a witch is near.”
“Silly, selfish Augur.” As he lets these words out, the figure moves closer to us. I stand.
“It's here.”
“Sit.”
“No” I inch toward the thing.
“Such things don’t exist if you’re the only one to see it.” The figure is closer, barely visible in the night’s shadows.
“Leave!” I command it. but that’s not enough.
In one inhale, the figure is gone. I cough. Then there’s nothing but a small flame in front of me.