Never be afraid to go back; to where your magick flowed, when your imagination ran wild, and you let yourself run with it.

Stars.  

Gods, there were so many stars. 

Billions, twinkling against the inky black like glitter cast across midnight silk. 

I breathed deep, the air in the circle of stones as clear as can possibly be imagined.  I felt the full capacity of my lungs for the first time in long memory.  Laying on the cool grass, lush and soft against my skin, my arms out at my sides, I felt the closest thing to peace I’ve ever encountered.

I was back, finally.  Here in the circle, surrounded by the forest, a few miles north of the castle.  I had finally returned.

A rustling at the southern edge of the circle reached my ears, and I smiled as I heard a deep but quiet huff.  Sitting up gently, as for once there was no urgency needed at all, my eyes fell upon the great figure waiting for me there.  

I rose to my feet as he began to step towards me, his heavy paws muffled by the thick grass.  My smile widened and I felt real, true joy in my heart as the giant wolf and I came face to face.  He towered above me, but lowered his head to meet mine.  As our foreheads connected, I closed my eyes and felt a stirring deep in my bones, something that unmistakably said, Home.

“Hello, old friend,” I said, with real love in my voice, burying my hands in the thick, black fur at his neck.  An affectionate rumble in his chest answered.  I smiled again.  He was my oldest and dearest companion, my totem, closer to me than any spirit guide, a piece of my own soul.  “I’ve missed you,” I whispered.

I felt pressure against my forehead as he responded.  I opened my eyes as he lifted his head and stepped around me to lay on the grass by my side.  He looked at me, and I immediately knew what he was offering. 

A thrill ran through me as I gathered the skirts of my dress and gently climbed upon his back.  We’d never done this before, but it had always been a secret fantasy of mine.  There weren’t any secrets between us though, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that he knew.  I was, however, delighted that he didn’t mind.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I admitted, considering the idea of conjuring a bridle of some kind for him.  He rose to his feet, the ground suddenly falling away below my bare toes.  He turned his head just slightly, his pointed ear twitching in my direction.  Suddenly I knew, as if our eyes had met, that I couldn’t possibly hurt him, and he was ready when I was.  Grinning then, I buried my fingers into the midnight hair at his shoulders and held on tight.

Tossing his head with a grunt of approval, he turned us around and launched forward.  I gave a small shriek of joy and leaned forward as we shot between the tall standing stones and into the forest, into the night.  He howled and the trees erupted with crows, cawing loudly, as though they were cheering us on.

He was gracefully fast, the ride much smoother than I had anticipated.  I could feel his strong muscles moving under his skin beneath my fists and thighs, carrying me easily over the uneven ground.  It was thrilling, exactly what my soul had needed.  The wind tossed my long hair behind me, and I felt so incredibly…free.

For a few moments I closed my eyes, letting the cool night air carry me, and imagined I was flying through the trees.  I thought of my broom, and wondered idly if it would come should I summon it.

He chuffed encouragingly, reading my unspoken thought, and I opened my eyes.  I was enjoying myself immensely and felt torn between staying with him and flying as I once had, at one with the night sky.  I looked at the stars shimmering above the trees as we continued along the path between them.

I dropped my gaze as he chuffed again, tossing his head in a manner that said, Go on. 

This wouldn’t be our last ride.

With a combination of excitement and hesitation – could I even do it? – I released the grip of my left hand, still holding tight to his fur with my right, and held it out into the wind, fingers spread.  I pictured my broom, a sturdy hawthorn branch, smooth and stained black, tailed with green leaves.  I remembered what it was like to fly it, the incomparable joy only its experience could give me.  When I felt the sensations ripple across my skin as though I were already astride it, something shifted inside and all of my doubt faded.  

A moment later it arrived.

Shooting through the forest, it was suddenly flying alongside us, just inches from my fingertips.  My eyes widened in what could only be described as true wonder.  I’d done it!  It was here!  I couldn’t believe it.  I suddenly became very aware of the magick flowing in my veins, and my breath caught in my throat at the immediate welling of emotion I felt. 

My magick.

I smiled through joyful tears as I spread my fingers wider and invited the broomstick into my palm.  As soon as I wrapped my grip around it, I felt a charge run up my arm to my shoulder, and then to my heart, that long-lost connection coming alive again.  

As my companion howled into the night I was lifted from his back, carried by my will alone.  The broom and I were one again, and all I had to do was be clear on my intention and the magick would do the rest.  I brought the long branch to me and laid upon it, feeling it come up against my sternum and settle between my thighs as naturally as though it were always meant to be there.  Wrapping both hands around it near my heart, I looked down and saw the great, black wolf running, an absolute picture of dark beauty in the night.  He looked up at me then and howled again, and I knew he was as happy for me as I was for myself.  

This was where I belonged.

Looking ahead, I braced myself and tightened my grip.  Then, with an elated crow into the cool air, I shot towards the canopy of trees and broke out into the night.

I wrote this many years ago, in a moment when I greatly missed – and lovingly welcomed back – the presence of magick in my heart.

It is safe to believe, wildling.

Let your magick back in.