A bit of smoke gets in your eyes and you mutter wiping your stinging eyes for a moment.. and before they clear you seem to see a form out beyond the scribed circle that was chanted upon and strode around and gestured at by the wiccans in forming their ritual space. You blink and look again.
You see the glimpse of a wizened old man as dark as the evening just before night. He has a wide boned face with a large fleshy nose. His eyes are like black gimmets that twinkle at you. He is gaunt and you can trace his bones by the contours they leave on his body. He is wearing a woven string cloth. His body is swirled with ochre within which are dots and dashes that seem to expand and draw you. You notice he has scars inscribed on a couple of parts on his body,, yet when you try and focus they drift away. You hear a chanting voice in your head that rises and falls , you dont understand the words .yet you feel the desert landscape around you.. taste the dry red dust. Feel the parchedness on your throat. The heat on your head. The dry hot smell. His feet seem to swirl and he does a slow dance that at moments you seem to see him shift and change into the form of an emu. . the flightless bird of the desert with piercing eyes and a sharp beak and long legs. He swirls around the sacred space pushing and poking with that cheeky bright gleam in his eyes. A thigh bone appears in his hand and glows. He points it towards the black draped area from which the music is coming from. You remember this man as the one you encountered earlier as his smile still transfixes you.
You come back to the ritual and notice that there are several wiccans standing around chanting and gesturing you hear the music start speeding up and slowing down erratically and then it slides drunkenly to a stop. A couple of dark robed accolites hurriedly go over to a black draped area and you hear clicking and fiddling.
You look back and see the wizened man smiling slightly. His arms raise and he puckers up his cheeks and blows. One of the cauldrons starts billowing out smoke that sends the acolyte with the book stumbling backwards. The other smaller one goes out completely, while the large one starts spluttering and the flames go larger and smaller.