the night is a time for magic; it lends itself to magic in a way that is like a dancer, the moon moving slowly, sinuously across the sky, the stars on their round, the campfire on the ground, the lanterns shining a warm but weak light that is lost for the fire. in the circle of light a dancer weaves in worship to the night sky. you are an observer, nothing more, you may not even be here in this strange night where a solitary dancer pays homage to Selene, queen of the moon. she is the world’s child, for she has never been a child of anyone; perhaps she was not born, but simply appeared, to sing to the night, the stars, the horse quietly cropping grass, so quiet you can hear its mouth tearing up grass by the roots. Loneliness is a stranger to the girl; she has been lonely all her life; and her soul contains fortunes told and fortunes soon to tell. Her name is Alvita, and perhaps she has been cursed to wander the world alone forever, time without end.