One late autumn's day, three children were dragging their feet on a lonely, windy path. No one was saying a word. They were walking side by side, their collars up to their noses.

Ferry, Matilda, and Ben were going to the witch's house. Shadow was not with them; he had vanished somehow with no one noticing. The children had agreed they should get familiar with the house where the witch lived before breaking in. Moreover, Billy Pride and Danny Stevens were to join them that night to make sure Ferry would bring the witch's feathers and not others. So there was no way back.

Lavender Sky's house was situated somewhere outside the town, at the foot of the northern hills. It was the coldest area around, for the sun was scarce that side of the town. The clouds seemed like crowding over the hills, abandoned to bad weather. And the leaves were long gone, leaving the trees naked and lonely which completed the grim atmosphere of that day.

Not many dared venture those places. The people of Goodharts were rarely visiting the simply because they found no use of it. The deserted hills in the north were not fertile, hence not attractive for picnics or exploring the surroundings. At the hill's foot, a small path could barely be noticed, hiding between the trees. The branches were long and tangled, reaching the ground. The path was covered with dry brushwood and wild bushes, a sign no human foot passed by in a long time. Somehow the soil was different out there. No other town laid beyond, only sterile fields and an abandoned railway. They were not green like the western hills, nor tall like those of the east side where people gathered for picnics, festivals, and kite contests. They weren't dangerous for the forest was far; yet, not friendly because, for some reason, the winds seemed to meet from all corners of the world right there, on their deserted peaks.

And to crown it all, the witch lived in that uninviting place; the very place the three friends were heading to now.

Their pace became faster as they were getting closer. Surprisingly, their bodies started to unwind as if covered with a warm blanket, in front of a cozy fire. They were still having difficulties walking on the path covered with dry weeds; knotty roots were showing up on their way and brambles were climbing on their clothes. But after a while, the surroundings began to change. The ground was covered with green, fresh grass as if in springtime. On the side of the path, the trees didn't look lifeless and deserted anymore. And the further they went, the more the foliage turned greener and thicker. On the other side of the path, the thistles and weeds were replaced with clusters of wildflowers, in bleak colors of white and blue, scattering a fresh, invigorating scent.

"How far is the witch's house?" Matilda broke the silence. Even she couldn't stay indifferent to the surroundings stretching ahead.

"If my mother wasn't mistaken, we should have arrived by now," said Ben adjusting his glasses as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"How would she know how to get there?" the girl asked.

"My grandma told her. She knew Lavender Sky, even if they never spoke to each other. Although the old woman tried to hide away from the people in town, my grandma discovered her house when she was looking for healing herbs."

"Well, maybe your grandma was a witch, too," Matilda mumbled.

Ben wanted to protest, and the quarrel was just about to start again when right in front of them, several old trees appeared out of nowhere, rising high across the path like a defense wall. They had big, strong, reddish stalks, and climbing plants were falling from their old branches like a heavy curtain.

Matilda took a clasp-knife out of her pocket and she was ready to cut off the plants blocking their way. But Ferry stopped her. With gentle moves, he moved the plants from their path as removing a curtain to watch out the window; and the view in front of them was finally revealed.

On the other side of the curtain of climbing plants was, indeed, the witch's house. Only it didn't look like the house of a witch at all. Not like the ones their parents were reading to them at bedtime, trying to put them to sleep. Not by far.

It was a two-floor cottage built out of white river stones. But, as time passed by, the stone has got a moist coating of fine moss. The roof was entirely covered with grass and small, white flowers resembling to scattered buttons. A small wooden fence surrounded the cottage; it was painted in white and morning glory and ivy decorated it as in a vintage postcard.

The front garden was charmingly disorganized. Flowers of all sorts and colors were growing here and there in clusters, scattered everywhere; bushes of blackberries, blueberries, raspberries, and so many other berries were spreading a sweet and sour scent. And then there were clusters of fresh grass of the brightest green as if just emerging from underneath the snow. Somewhere in the middle of the garden, a fountain was rising above the plants, sending sparkles of freshwater drops around. From the small gate, grey and bluestone slabs were leading to the front door covered in climbing plants and shrubs.

The three children stopped, catching their breath. They were watching and couldn't believe their eyes.

"Am I dreaming?" Ben asked.

"No, you're not dreaming," Matilda whispered. "This is definitely the house of a witch. How else would you explain these flowers and fruits when winter is almost here?"

Ferry came closer to the small fence. He stretched out his hand to the gate, without knowing whether to go in or not.

That very moment, a whirlwind emerged from the corner of the house, carrying branches, and flowers, and heading right towards them, pulling off their scarfs and hats.

The children shouted all at once as if at the sound of a signal.

"Ferry, let's go!" Ben shouted. "I think she saw us," he added, trying to protect himself from the flying branches and flowers buzzing in his ears.

"There!" Matilda shouted, pointing to the cottage's top floor.

Ferry looked at the window. It was wide open and the window blinds were frantically moving as if the storm started inside and was coming out the window.

"Ferry, let's go!" Matilda shouted again; even she looked scared. "She's going to put a spell on us!!!"

But Ferry stood still. He couldn't move. Or perhaps he wouldn't move.

Ben broke into a run, frightened beyond words. But Matilda didn't, even if she would have wanted to tail off, too. She grabbed Ferry by the hand and pulled with all her strength until she moved him from his place. Ferry looked at that strange house for the last time and he saw the veiled lady's silhouette staying still in the window.

Then all the children tailed off without looking back.

⃰

"I don't know how you do it, but you always get into trouble," Matilda mumbled, blowing in her fists to make herself warm.

"What can I say? It's a gift," Ferry tried to make a joke, although he didn't feel like joking. The night was freezing and Ferry felt needles of ice going all over his body. Matilda and Ben had joined him on this adventure just like good friends should. They all managed to get out of their homes without their parents ever imagining they weren't in their beds, that late hour. And now they were heading towards the town's square where they were supposed to meet Billy Pride and Danny Stevens. The two boys were to witness Ferry's attempt to steal three feathers from the veiled lady's hat.

As expected, the two boys were already there, waiting near the fountain in the square. They also had managed to sneak out of the house. They wouldn't have missed the opportunity to humiliate Ferry, anyway. Especially since they were sure Ferry would never get into the house, let alone steal those feathers from Lavender Sky's strange hat.

The two greeted them briefly and, without saying any other word, they started to the northern hills to the witch's house.

It was way past midnight and the whole town was asleep. Except for Billy's parents, who were throwing parties now and then, there weren't many to stay awake that late, in Goodharts. Not even at the tavern which was closing at ten o'clock in the evening, during the cold season.

The five children walked fast as their path was lightened by Billy's flashlight. No sound could be heard in the frozen night. Only their footsteps on the cold, wet slabs. Sooner than expected, the children were already at the edge of the town; and when the last house was out of their sight, the deserted path showed up on their way in the pale light of the flashlight. Just as soon, as if time seemed to run faster, they were already in front of the curtain of climbing plants.

When they crossed on the other side, they all felt the shift in the air. Everything around turned to life. The trees were rustling. The night birds were singing. The fireflies were piercing the air in small sparks. And yet, the children were shivering at such a wonderful, yet strange sight. Who's ever heard of leafy trees and insects that time of the year?

"We're here," whispered Ferry.

Billy and Danny were quiet, watching in awe the cottage in the middle of that charming murmur. Finally, Billy's body shook like in a dream and then the boy started towards the house. He stopped near the fence full of flowers, waiting.

"Now you have to go in, Donovan," he said. "Unless you're scared. You can always change your mind, you know," he continued, forcing a smile; but the smile froze on his lips.

"I'm not afraid," said Ferry half-heartedly. "I'm going to bring you those feathers and you will leave Ben alone for the rest of your life."

"You have my word," whispered Billy. "A Pride never takes his word back."

Once more, the two boys shook hands; then, Ferry jumped over the fence and headed towards the house with big steps, carefully watched by four pairs of eyes.

At the front door, his courage vanished. He touched the door through the gloves. It seemed entirely invaded by ivy and swollen because of the moisture, as if not opened for years and years. Ferry built a plan in his mind. He was to enter and scour all the rooms on the ground floor hoping he would find the hat hung on the peg, right next to the door. He hoped that the witch was asleep somewhere on the second floor, where no noise could reach to her old ears. But first, he had to find a way in. He also observed the windows. They were also locked. It looked like an abandoned house, deserted for years.

That's strange... thought Ferry. I wonder how she's going in. Unless she's... flying! But that meant she was a real witch and that was hard to believe, even for him.

Walking against the house's cold, moist walls, he reached the back of the house. He couldn't see the others from there. He felt sorry he didn't take Billy's flashlight. He thought he might have woken up the old woman. But then again, how well could a hundred-year-old woman see?

When he reached the backyard, a wind blast started out of nowhere, just like earlier in the afternoon. And a door ─ a different door ─ opened with a long creak. With his heart racing almost to jump off his chest, Ferry went in.

He couldn't see much inside except for some shadows which he suspected of being old furniture. He decided he should go against the wall so he wouldn't turn over something in his way. And he was beyond words with amazement when he discovered that plants were covering the inside walls, too. A moist smell, like wet soil, floated everywhere inside the cottage. Nevertheless, the house seemed warm and hospitable.

Walking against the walls, Ferry found all sorts of furniture in his way. Coffee tables, chairs, shelves, even a ladder. He carefully avoided them, hoping to find the peg, but nothing looked like a peg. In the darkness, the furniture had the strangest shapes. He must have been in some kind of living room. He thought about going back and asking for Billy's flashlight or else he had no chance in finding that hat. But a plant coiled up his leg like a rope and Ferry fell, face down. The noise wasn't that loud, and he didn't even get hurt. He expected the floor to be hard and rigid, made out of wood or stone. But no. The floor was covered in... moss! The softest, finest Ferry ever felt. He slowly got up trying not to make any noise.

"You can take off your gloves," he heard a voice somewhere in front of him, which made him freeze. "There is no iron in this house."

The voice seemed soft, clear and... young. Ferry then thought perhaps Mrs. Sky didn't live alone. She must have had grandchildren or even great-grandchildren living with her.

He turned around, as slowly as he could, towards the corner the voice came from. A tall figure was standing somewhere near the window. She wasn't moving. She was waiting. She has been probably watching from the darkness all this time.

"The feathers are on the table in the middle of the room, five steps on your left," said the voice. "You can have them. They are my first gift to you."

Like in a dream, Ferry walked five steps and reached the table. He found a bundle of something, and without thinking whether they were the feathers, he took them and hit the road, dashing out the door.

He passed by the other children so fast, they barely had the time to see him.

"Run!" he shouted without stopping.

The others didn't wait to be told twice. They broke into a run and didn't stop until they reached the square in the town. After catching their breath, they could finally observe the most wonderful feathers they have ever seen; shining in the most amazing colors under the light of the flashlight.

I hope you liked this new chapter. If so, please vote and comment. It would mean a lot. Thank you!