“Witch?” the green-skinned brute asked businesslike, sizing me up as his gaze ran over my long motley skirt and silk blouse. “To the coven? For a sabbath?”
It wouldn’t have occurred to me to call a meeting of writers a sabbath. But the girls really sometimes—just joking—called themselves witches. And it seems that very joke grew into the idea unfolding right before my eyes.
“Uh-huh,” I let it come out vaguely, deciding not to be surprised and not to twitch about.
No, I didn’t consider myself a witch. But I also wasn’t going to barge in from the doorway with my own rules in someone else’s monastery—meaning, in a tavern that’s supposed to be a boarding house… It wouldn’t take much to get completely confused.
Can trouble turn into luck? In my case—easily! Though the opposite option, of course, hasn’t been ruled out.
Going on vacation to attend a gathering of writers and ending up in another world? Easy—We know how. We practice! Now the only thing is to figure out how to get back.