Hey folks. I am so sorry this is so short. I hurt my hand at work and have been unable to type properly! I will survive, the show will go on, but I may be a bit slow...sigh. Anyway, enjoy. The poem is Yates, per usual.
Green grows the holly
And so does the ivy
Though winter blasts winds na'er so high -Calexico
A burst of wind came barreling around the corner of the little cottage. Sarah could hardly catch her breath as the cold ripped through her, tugging the scarf from her neck. The red streamer fluttered out into the night violently.
"Sheesh." She pushed the heavy curling mass of her hair back over her shoulders. The scarf was gone as was the sudden wind. All was quiet around her once more.
"Silly nitwit." Sarah said to herself as she turned to retreat back indoors. It only took her a moment to realize that all the lights were out in the house.
"Curiouser and curiouser!" Sarah stepped lightly toward the door. Firelight from the hearth flickered eerily along the walls as she pulled the door open gingerly. Clove and the crisp scent of evergreens filled the air.
Cautiously, Sarah moved toward the flames, her moccasined feet barely making a sound. Morgana rested on the warm flagstones, her heavily lidded eyes reflected the light. The smell of pine needles increased as she stepped further into the room. Hair stood up on her arms and the back of her neck as her pulse quickened suddenly. Sarah jumped, turning to look over her shoulder back toward the door. All was quiet.
"Bolt and bar the shutter,
For the foul winds blow:
Our minds are at their best this night,
And I seem to know
That everything outside us is
Mad as the mist and snow."
Sarah muttered the poem aloud, listening to her own voice echo through the cottage. With a sight she skipped over to the light switch and gave it a violent flip. There was a flicker, but nothing more. Once more the fresh scent of evergreens assulted her, but this time there was the tiniest hint of cinnamon.
"I'm not crazy," she insisted taking a deep breath, tasting the spicy scents. Goosebumps ran up her arms as the wild wind picked back up outside the windows. The trees waved their frost heavy branches in the fickle moonlight.
The raven haired woman looked slowly over her shoulder, her neck twisting elegantly. Her warm green eyes locked instantly with a pair of cool blue ones.
"You smell just like Christmas." Her voice was barely a whisper.