It’s cold as she follows Luna through the forest. The ground is damp beneath her bare feet and she feels every rock, blade of grass, and twig. When they arrive at the clearing, she watches Luna. The moonlight casts her in an ethereal glow and, for a moment, Ginny wonders if this is just a dream.

Warm hands move over her shoulders and her robe falls to her feet. Neither of them speak as she takes Luna’s hand and walks closer to the small fire. They begin to dance beneath the stars, and Luna’s voice is soft and reverent as she chants, Ginny’s own joining her as forgotten words and stories come back to her mind.

She feels alive, in tune with everything around her from the wind to the grass beneath her feet. Her gaze meets Luna’s across the fire, and she stops twirling. She feels dampness on her cheeks as Luna smiles. The ground is damp beneath her knees as she falls, fingers digging in the dirt as the flames warm her face. Luna dances around her and Ginny swears she can smell strawberries and vanilla in the cold night air.

She closes her eyes and chants, repeating the words her mother taught her as a child. It’s no use. Dawn is teasing the eastern sky and Samhain is nearly over. When Ginny opens her eyes, Luna is gone and she knows. It was just a dream.