It spiraled heavenward - an ashen beacon for all manner of revelry, funneled through break in canopy's branches. An ushered celebration for midsummer's eve brought forth merriment, audible, from within season's leaves. Song, and drink, and dance - vivacious, archaic. Heads and horns, crowned with flowers aplenty - woven, lopsided, but beautifully scented. Lit by the glow of roaring flames there danced, silhouettes, possessed by melody and spirits unknown. Flowed freely liquor: scarlet, sanguine, amber and chestnut. The voices carried were risen in song, engulfed yet by passion and rampant in pleasure.
"Child of Summer, she wishes to try!" bleated cheer, cut through - overlapped, but no less resounding. Euphony continued, drums thudding beat within cavities caged, roused from earth with chorus of holler and whoop. There parted bodies; forged of wood, and others of fur, of leaf-cladden flesh or otherwise bare. Made way they, for maiden, no taller than thigh; her eyes dark as ink and hair a cascade, free, from hempen tie. Not unlike they, but not among either.
Small hands clasped tight panflute woven of reeds, the girl lifted down from atop the goat's knee.
"Come now, dear one, night's merely begun!"
"A whisper, dear sister - our wish? Astonish, astonish!"
Amidst the chaos there lifted pipe to soft lips and brought with it shriek - undeniably, undoubtedly, out of tune. Laughter, sung jovial, resounded from all those bore witness, locks of lavender from atop horned crown mussed with affection. The child's cheeks darkened with sheepish hue, pale ebony tinted a dusky rose. Once more she tried, before larger hands came to aid; an adjust of minute fingers over flute's smaller holes. With tilt of bound reeds, re-positioned against delicate maw, there found she new beginning. Off-key, at first, but uncaring - unrelenting in newfound joy. A note, lost in three, stirred within she; kindle to fire. Spirit set soar.
A third then, she played, under careful instruction. A fourth, unbid, stumbled over goblet discarded.
The fifth served as herald for vermilion tongue, risen to blanketed solstice from effigy, burning.
Bare feet, kissed lovingly by dirt, carried she around fire with sway of hip and dainty skip. Tail, feathered violet, trailing in follow of flowing fabric and bright woven bramble. Twirled the child through limbs and hooves given to reckless abandon; ashen skin highlighted furthermore, artistically, with decorative soot, and the longing caress of flickering light. Color and sound mingled in blur, old magic: arisen - panting, preening, chanting and cheering.
Thus were it so, night of nights, 'til came early: first morning light.