Nim watched as an orange leaf floated lazily to the ground. Autumn had arrived in Ovandale, and she could feel it in her bones. The air was crisp, carrying a sweet musky scent as the wind picked up as it ever did through the rolling farmland.
Several wagons stood empty, parked near the front of her home. The nine witches of the conventicle arrived not long after she took her midday meal with Sana. Gareth and Lorna were due to come back on the farm that evening. Nim didn't worry, though. She knew no real conversation about the future would occur this night, which was for the better due to more than one reason.
