Unfamiliar

Clementine watched eagerly as her mother placed more logs onto the growing pile for the evening’s bonfire. Tonight, will be the night, she just knew it. For as long as anyone could remember, witches and warlocks on their sixth year of celebrating Beltane, receive the gift of their Familiar from the forest. This year was Clementine’s turn.

It was the first of May, and the air was filled with the buzzing of newly awakened insects and the gentle bleats of lambs. Clementine jumped to her feet and walked towards her mother, a curious twinkle in her eye.

“What do you think my familiar will be Ma?” she questioned, swinging her arms by her sides in excitement. Cradling a neat bundle of twigs in her arms, Clementine’s mother turned and gave her daughter a tender glance.

“Well, I’m guessing, probably a toad, my dear. Our family is known for toads after all.” Mum chuckled as she bent down to weave the twigs into the pyre. As she worked, Clementine watched as a fat little toad trotted after her mother, with a stick in its mouth. The little creature was puffed and swollen, with an oozy leathery skin that made it look like an old boot. The toad opened its bloated mouth releasing its wooden baggage with a snap onto the bonfire. It looked at Clementine and gave a triumphant CROAK, and she crinkled her nose.

‘Anything but a Toad!’ she thought to herself as her mother’s Familiar hopped off to find another twig for the fire.

“Or it could be a cat, an owl?” Her mother continued,

“Rats are common as well; and I’ve seen bats and ravens!” Clementine’s mother cooed excitedly,

“Oh could you imagine, my daughter with a handsome bat Familiar!” She tried to contain her excitement.

“But either way Clemmie it will be one of those! And no matter which one the forest chooses, I’m going to be so proud of you.” She scooped her up for an onslaught of kisses and Clementine giggled.

The sun had turned a dusky pink and was ready to rest for the evening, but for Clementine’s coven the night had only just begun. Smoke filled the air as all the bonfires her family had dutifully assembled that morning, were now set alight. The embers danced up into the sky, wanting to become the stars, before they flickered and fell back to earth. The silky ashes landed in Clementine’s brown curls and clung to her, making her smell like earth and wood. The smell felt like protection, there was a deeper magic in the flames that cleansed the glade and all that gathered there. Later, the ashes of the bonfire were collected and scattered in every home’s hearth, to shelter each family from mischievous spirits.

With the circle of bonfires ablaze, Clementine looked on as her coven performed the sacred Beltane rituals and spells. Cows were guided by their farmers between leaping flames, which shrouded the gentle beasts like a glowing halo. Even when walking through the fiery arches the cows never seemed frightened, in their eyes Clementine sensed that they understood the magic in the spell. Her mother explained to her when she was very tiny, ‘the spell ensures that the cattle are safe to feed in summer pastures, it stops them from getting sick’. One of the cattle swatted an ember on it’s back with its long-tufted tail.

The sun had fully set now, and the sky was an inky black. Clementine puffed out her freckled cheeks in frustration. ‘When would it happen?’ she thought furrowing her brow. How was she supposed to enjoy the celebrations knowing that her Familiar was waiting out there somewhere?

It had been too long, she mulled over in her head, some of the other children had already received their Familiars. Earlier that morning, she had been playing in the glade with a younger warlock named Blaise, whose sixth birthday was only three days ago. They were playing hopscotch when a raven flew down from the sky and landed on Blaise’s shoulder.

Clementine crossed her arms and grumbled. Then suddenly, a thought occurred to her that made her stomach tingle uncomfortably. ‘What if I’m not meant to be a Witch? Have I ever really done magic before?’ Her brain scrambled to remember a time when she had actually completed a spell. She recalled helping her mother light up candles for her father’s birthday cake. She asked them to light up and they did. ‘But what if it was just a really hot day, and they lit up by themselves?’ Before she had time to dwell further on her panicked thoughts, her mother and father had joined her for the feast.

All the coven was in celebration, the Beltane rituals had been a success and the recent summer’s yield was expected to be prosperous for the crops and the livestock. Clementine’s uncle Artemis sipped heavily from his cup, his face a blotchy red from his homemade honey mead. Hiccupping, he moved his arms to-and-fro like a conductor and made two floating fiddles play a merry song. Children linked arms and danced in circles, giggling with joy.

Clementine picked up a knife and went to butter herself an oatcake, trying to feel less miserable. Everything today had been made ‘the old way’. The apples had been hand-peeled and stewed in a pot with cinnamon and nutmeg for six hours, the cream had been whipped by hand (not with the clever help of an enchanted pewter whisk) and even the butter had been made in a churn. ‘Those Grown-ups, they’re so silly’, thought Clemmie.

Underneath the churn were three lumps of coal, a special trick to stop the forest spirits, the pixies, from stealing their butter. Tonight, the glade was alive with spirits, and those who had a keen eye could catch a glimpse of their trickery. Clementine’s Pa told her he had once seen a pixie, stealing the crust off the end of his bread. Stranger still, her Grandmother when she was a little girl, recalled them taking an entire tray of honey cakes.

Clementine had never even seen a forest spirit … until now. Behind the churn, fluttering just above the ground was what looked like a stray ember. But on a closer inspection, Clemmie saw a tiny person with a fuzzy lion’s tail and wings like a bumblebee. Its beady eyes met Clemmie’s and it darted artfully out of the glade and off into the surrounding forest. Not wanting to squander her first-ever sighting of a naughty faery, she dropped her knife and plate and set chase into the trees.

Between the trees she felt colder, as the darkness enveloped her like a chill, and she was aware that the glade no longer offered its trusty protection. She glanced behind and saw the faint orange glow that was her coven, obscured by the knotted and gnarled tree branches. She had lost sight of the faery. Why had she followed it at all? Was she being tricked? A shiver crept down Clementine’s spine and she turned on her heel to flee back towards the warm and safe light.

She had just taken her first step when she heard it …

“…Squeeeak!”

Clemmie froze, her ears abuzz and her heart thumping madly in her chest.

“… Squeeeaak…”

The noise sounded like it was coming from an old log. Clementine was determined. She was certain it was that naughty faery and this time, she would not let it escape. Squatting low, she peeped her head into the old trunk, clinging to the rough mossy skin to steady herself. But to her surprise, inside the trunk, there was no faery to be seen.

Curled into a little ball on top of a soft bed of leaves was the tiniest kitten she had ever seen. His fur was a pebble grey, and his ears were folded to his head like fluffy earmuffs. His tiny face framed a bold black nose that shone like a polished coin, under the moonlight.

Clementine gasped, this must be her Familiar … a cat!

The sage pixie had guided her right to him.

Clemmie lifted the kitten carefully from the log and cradled it lovingly back to the glade. It looked up at her with sleep-filled eyes and she noticed dark round patches on its face.

“You look like you’re wearing little glasses!” she giggled.

Holding her precious bounty close to her chest she re-joined her family.

“Ma! Pa! I found my Familiar!” She beamed, a grin spreading across her face.

“It’s a cat!”

“Congratulations!” said her mother, shouting proudly with excitement.

“A cat, the proudest of all Familiars.” Her father chimed in agreement, to all within earshot.

“You’ve done it sweetheart, you’re a Witch!” Mother turned to father, holding back tears.

“My baby’s a Witch!” Clementine crinkled her nose.

‘Parents are so embarrassing’, she thought to herself.

Her father bent down and rifled through his old, tattered carpet bag, his trusty companion, enchanted to hold as many things as he wanted. The only problem was the inside of it was so big he could never seem to retrieve anything from it. After several minutes of rummaging, together with some annoyed grumbles, he pulled out a hat. It was treacle brown and had the comforting smell of worked leather. The brim was wide like a sun hat and the top had a sharp point which kinked out to the side.

“You’ve earnt your hat today, Clemmie” her father lectured, trying to redeem himself after his untimely scramble through the bag.

“Wear it proud Darling!” Clementine nodded dutifully, holding her head high, trying to look as grown-up and witchy as possible. As if he were crowning a princess, her father placed the hat upon her head, bending down on one knee.

It fitted her perfectly.

Just when she thought the day couldn’t get any better, the grey bundle in her arms started to wriggle.

“CHIIIIRRRRRR!”

A chittering cry filled the air, like the trill of a flute. The coven held its collective breath. Blaise and his new raven approached Clementine curiously.

“Kittens don’t make that noise”, he voiced in an accusatory tone. Confused, Clemmie loosened the furry bundle from her chest for all to see. The creature blinked, adjusting his eyes and gradually steadying himself in her embrace. When he finally sat upright, it was revealed that he had little human hands and a tiny black and white ringed tail.

Clementine’s parents widened their eyes in shock at the sight of the animal and exchanged a worried glance.

“He’s not a kitten?” Clementine asked in a quiet quivering voice.

“Er.. U-Um.. No..” her father stammered.

“I’ve never ever seen this before in my life!” chuckled uncle Artemis.

“We won’t forget this one for a while”, muttered Blaise’s Dad to his son.

Clementine felt her cheeks grow red hot. Her mother quieted the growing chatter from the crowd. Shuffling awkwardly from one foot to another, her eyes darted quizzically between the creature and her daughter and her husband, like a broken pendulum.

“He’s interesting dear”, she consoled after a lengthy silence. What would like to name him?”

Clementine collected her thoughts, still unsure of what was happening around her. She looked at the sweet face peering up at her with its long snout and curious eyes.

“Milo.”

She spoke from her heart, and she knew it was true.

“To Milo!” Her mother addressed the coven.

“The first ever raccoon Familiar!”

The crowd erupted into cheers and the celebration burst back to life. Milo sat upright in Clementine’s arms and claimed her with his big brown eyes. He cocooned himself back into a little ball and chittered contentedly, amid the fervent celebrations, into a deep blissful sleep.