It was a cold and cloudless night,
And in the forest torches glowed.
Amongst the stars the moon loomed bright
And lit the people far below.
They huddled closer to conspire,
Vicious whispers running rampant,
Clutching pitchforks and bright fire—
Useless, all, against enchantment.
The cottage in the woods was silent.
Its owner, Katya, paced within.
She feared that something cruel or violent
Had happened to her dearest Quin.
Sweet Quin had left for town that morning
In search of fruit, and grain, and cream
Despite her darling's dire warning—
The townsfolk aren't kind as they seem.
People filled the village square,
And one poor girl filled one small cell.
Their eyes and faces full of fear,
Her red lips muttering a spell.
The crowd began to march and shout.
But as they walked the forest trail,
Quin worked tirelessly to get out—
A witch would not be trapped in jail.
Katya, scared, was still alone
When all the villagers arrived.
A healer, she could never hold
A weapon, though she tried and tried.
Quin hurried home once she broke free.
The villagers had kept encroaching
On Quin and Katya's property—
They did not know the rage approaching.
Quin screamed; those gathered saw a flash,
And flames soared high, and flesh ignited.
The townsfolk were mere dust and ash
When Quin and Katya reunited.
It is a cold and cloudless night,
And in the forest new ghosts glow.
Amongst the stars the moon looms bright—
It lights the lovers far below.
