On a cold November night, David parked the car in a lay-by and walked to the woods along the narrow road before turning onto the bridle way which led to the clearing. It was clear and cold and the moon was shining with a pure white light, clearly delineating the trees and the rough track.
At first he had not been sure which day she meant or whether she even really intended keeping her promise to him, so he had called her and heard her deep laughter again, mocking him. But finally she had made it clear that he had a definite assignation, although of what nature he was uncertain and somewhat nervous.
And then, after taking a few steps through the trees, he saw the trail. There was white dust shining in the moonlight and he knew she had prepared the way for him. Whether it was flour or chalk he could not tell, but it shone there, just for him.
As he walked, slowly but firmly, the illuminated whiteness called to him, so that he soon lost all fear of walking in the dark and trusted only the path that had been sketched out before him. He became acutely aware of every crisp leaf and even the rhythm of his breathing as he let the moon show him the way and the soft rustle of crushed leaves spoke to him. Gradually every tree, every branch became clear to him in the bright silver light which sketched out a monochromatic landscape in charcoal and chalk.
When he reached the clearing, where he had once thrown himself down and screamed with frustration, the trail ended but the glade was defined with a large circle of the white powder. He stood, waiting, wondering what he should do next. Then suddenly, he heard a rustling and an apparition whispered to him in that rich voice he knew so well.
to be continued January 14