8. Chapter Eight
She stood there for a moment, bathing in the silvery moonlight, still as a shadow. With astonished eyes Rowena watched as the magical villagers formed a circle around the foot of the sycamore tree, and one by one, vanished. How are they doing it? She thought to herself. When the last person had disappeared, Rowena cautiously crept towards the tree. Is this a trap? She thought. I guess if it is, it's too late. She continued to walk towards the tree, her gown streaming behind her and her eyes open for a sign of danger. Then she slipped. She was falling, she waved her arms hopelessly, but then suddenly as it started, her feet hit the damp underground of the earth, and she stumbled forward to land on all fours. Coughing in the cloud of dust that erupted around her, Rowena straightened herself, brushed off her dress, and looked around as though nothing had happened. That was fun, she concluded. Her attention was suddenly caught by the steady stream of voices quietly conversing in a small room to her right. Rowena gathered her dignity, held up her head in a curious way, and marched through the doorway.