The blue witch looked up at the cottage, it was large but homely looking, with warm light twinkling in its windows and a snake of smoke rising from the chimney. The chill of the May night rested on the air, but she hesitated at the gate. She had heard there was a coven here, but as she cast her eyes over the markings on the door, her heart sank. They were the unmistakable symbols of The Green Coven, and she could not guarantee a welcome. She faced a choice. She could knock the door or return to the lonely road where hunger ate at her youth and lodgings turned her away. Taking a breath she passed through the gate and hand shaking she tapped on the door.
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