nascent winds spoke to the smoothed surfaces of the stones, a hollow howl everpresent and reverbial.
the flat stone that made her altar, the sharp rock that formed her knife, the oozing blood that dripped down into a bowl. this was her ritual site and her ceremony, the witch made her name known to the invisible hand of night that stretched down from below the moon, and shadows sang to her the secrets of life.
the clawed thing that now held the blood of the earth invoked the astral stellinae and called down into the bone clad effigy the vengeant hexarthe. silence broke the spell, and stillness invaded the air as the wind was murdered by shadowed miasma. in the effigy there came the first noise, and soon the second din, and as it drank the blood of the earth there came the silent screams of ghosts long forgotten, now stirred to fulfill the summoners wishes.
those spirits took up their old clothes, rotting and broken as they were, and shambled out into the woods, theyre footsteps marked by the snarlish laughter of the hate crowned crone.