Micheline smelled the smoke long before she saw the fires.
It drifted up the path from the Enchanted Grove to meet them, a sharp, resinous scent of split cedar and burning pine that mingled with the cold, damp breath of the mist until she could almost taste it on her tongue. The sun hadn't set yet, but it had already slipped behind the mountains, and the light that remained was thin and grey, filtered through the fog until it felt more like dusk than late afternoon.
"Do you hear that?" Charlotte asked, tugging her hood a little tighter around her curls.
Micheline nodded, though she didn't speak as she focused on navigating the trail. Few people were allowed to visit the Enchanted Grove, and tonight's gathering was something of an exception. The path saw very little use, and there were treacherous patches of ice that she was careful to avoid.
